Phone Sex

"Good evening. This is Jasmine with the Department of Health. May I speak with the second oldest male in the house?"

That's ME!!!!!!! (feigned excitement. feigned age.)

...

"Uh, yes, the reason I am calling is because your number has been randomly selected..."

Randomly? How can it be random if this is the fourth time you called us? I mean, you guys already called us three times before this. How can it be random?

"Um... That's because we're doing a survey and it's really important..."

Hey Jasmine, you're with the Department of Health. Is high blood pressure unhealthy?



"Um, I'm not sure."

You know, it must be. High blood pressure damages the capillaries; wears out the organs. Yeah. It must be bad for your health.

"I guess so."

So why are you trying to give me high blood pressure, Jasmine?

"I'm not trying to."

But you are, Jasmine. You guys called before, and each time we said we didn't want to participate. Yet you guys insist we must. You guys try to coerce us.

"We're not trying to coerce anyone. It's just important that we do this survey..."

Do you get a commission on each completed survey?



"Uh, no I don't."

I was just wondering since you seem so adamant about me taking this survey. I mean, telemarketers aren't this pushy.

"I'm not trying to be pushy. This is a very important survey..."

That important huh? You would think that on a survey that important, you wouldn't want uncooperative people participating. I mean, if the survey is that important, you wouldn't want to compromise your data with some false information. Hey Jasmine, how about I agree to take your survey then lie on all my answers. Would that be ok?



"Why would you do that?"

Because, Jasmine, as I was saying, I... don't... want... to... participate... in... this... survey.

...

"Have a good evening, sir."

You too Jasmine. You have an excellent evening yourself. Goodbye.

Road to Recovery

It's Crash-Day +2. We got high wind warnings, so I'm staying off the motorcycle. It would be asking a bit much to ride with a hurt shoulder and bad weather. So I have nothing to do but play video games and watch YouTube.

These videos helped cheer me up. At least I'm not the only one who crashes.

Use a Condom, or Protection

Take it from Mozilla. Always use a condom. No wait. Make that, "always use protection." That should be less ambiguous for my two readers.

Today's secret word is: Protection.

As usual, I went mountain biking yesterday on the mountain. It's a great activity to help you keep fit and active, and to experience the great outdoors.



I pee on the trail too.

But mountain biking can be dangerous. You can wipe out on steep downhills. I've done it several times.



Or you could get your wheels stuck on some gnarly terrain. You can get up close and personal with the terrain you're riding on. I've done it before.



I took a really bad spill yesterday. I was going faster than I should have, on a section of trail I've never been on. Big mistake. The last thing I remember was my front wheel falling into a rut and me flying head-first toward the ground.



I think I actually went unconscious for a while. Notice that my being unconscious, and later being unable to get up, did not stop my so-called friend from taking time out to photograph the scene.

I woke up totally dazed with some memory loss and a jacked up shoulder.

The fun thing about suffering a memory-loss inducing head trauma is that the rest of the day feels brand new. Or better yet, the rest of my day felt like an old computer rpg. I was on a quest to figure out the events of the day. And just like those old rpgs, the npcs I talked to weren't very helpful and my chat interface sucked. I think I was babbling.

Nonwheezer: How did I fall?

Riley NPC: The Riley has nothing more to say.

Nonwheezer: How did I get down here?

Riley NPC: The Riley has nothing more to say.

Nonwheezer: Wow, you kind of suck.

Riley NPC: The Riley has nothing more to say.



Once I figured out that I indeed could not remember things, I decided I would use sheer brainpower to muscle through the problem. I figured since I was smarter than most, my brain kung-fu would come out victorious. It would be like using a Cray, or maybe NASA's supercomputer to balance a checkbook.



Turns out, it doesn't matter how big a computer you have. If the lights are out, you ain't figuring out shit. No matter how hard I tried, I still drew blanks.



Eventually, with time, most of my memories came back. However, there's still a thirty minute blank spot after the crash. Luckily my motor skills weren't damaged and I rode down the road to the lookout just fine. I just couldn't form any memories during that time. Weird yet cool.

At the lookout I was still in babble mode. I can remember bits and pieces here and there, but it felt like I was really drunk. I do remember this one nursing student friend who checked if I had a concussion.



When that memory came back, I was in awe. Honestly, I did not expect such skills from this student at this time. I figured she would need a couple more years of study to reach the level of nurse-fu I experienced. She greatly exceeded all expectations. I was ready to become her groupie. In my clouded head, she was one miracle shy of sainthood. I was really close to hero worship and I was already planning which of my students I would use for human sacrifices.



"Oh, I thought you were lying so I was just checking to see if you were bullshitting."

Hahaha! Reality hit me as hard as my head hit the trail. God, I must have really been out of it.

Right now it's about hour 22 of the 24 hour concussion watch. I haven't slept for more than three hours at a time, yet I feel alert and wide awake. My body hurts like hell though. I do need to thank Riley once again. He woke me up at 4:30 AM (farmers don't even wake this early) by sending me a pix message on my phone. I couldn't ignore it otherwise my phone would beep all night long.



Now I'm not sure what he was trying to say by sending me a pic of a Trek Session 7. I know he was trying to convince me to ditch my Haro X6 (with upgraded fork and brakes) and buy the Trek, but if he was trying to insinuate that a better bike would have prevented my fall, then he really needs to cut back on the pot. I was on a Session 77, and upgraded Session 7, when I fell.

Anyway, it's now the day after. My upper body hurts, and I probably can't ride my motorcycle even though it's a holiday weekend. On the bright side, I have an extra day to recover before having to face the evil spawns of Satan- my students.



Wear your helmet! Probably saved me from an ambulance ride to the hospital.

Eargasm

I have this friend who constantly rags me about the music I listen to. He thinks my taste in music is weird. Heck, most people on my island would think my taste is weird. On my island, 99 and 94/100 of the population listen to hip hop. Doesn't even matter if the song is any good or if the performer has any talent. As long as the music has a redundant, loud beat, or if it has profanity, it's an instant success here.

My friend is one of these lemmings. He sings the same hip hop song over and over. I think he wants us to think he's extreme. It almost worked too since he rides a dirtbike, hucks huge on a mountain bike, drives a 200+mph dragster, and owns a supercharged pickup truck. However, it turns out he's a bit gay when it comes to music.

His current favorite songs come from the Legally Blonde soundtrack hehe.




It's like that Harold and Kumar Go To White Castle movie.



In the movie there's a bunch of extreme sports punks who grief Harold and Kumar and everyone else they run into. But then when H and K steal the extreme punks' bronco and turn on the stereo, they find Wilson Phillips.



So what was the song that drew my friend's harassment? Modest Mouse's Float On.



Hey, I like the twangy sound and the interesting beat. I also like the message in the lyrics. At least it's not as gay as some of my other favorite songs.



Of course, all that music can cause waxy build up in the ears. And if there is one thing I love, it's cleaning my ears. It ranks way higher than picking my nose.

Amateur ear cleaners would most likely go for the Q-tip as their weapon of choice. Lame.



The true connoisseur would use the mimikure. Oddly enough, when I tried to find a picture of a mimikure on the internet, I couldn't find one. I found them under the name "mimikaki." I'm guessing that the word "mimikure," is a different dialect than the standard Japanese. It could be a word from southern Japan since my family came from there. I'm absolutely sure it's the right word too because when I was in Kyoto, I asked a shop keeper, "mimikure desuka," while pointing at the ear cleaners and she responded in the affirmative.



But who cares what the name is. This sucker is pure bliss.

Ailments, Aging, and Androgyny

There were no real big topics that popped in my head this whole week. I did have a few mini-topics, but nothing really worth sitting down to write. Then I noticed that I haven't written anything in a whole week. Guess I'll just jot down my little minis into one post.

About a week and a half ago, I got a cold sore. No, it's not genital herpes. I would have had to eaten some bad clam to get that, and unfortunately, I haven't eaten any shellfish in a while. This sucker was on the inside of my bottom lip, right in front of my teeth. If I used my mouth for any reason, it hurt. Brushing, eating, ventriloquism, they all hurt. It put a damper on my nightclub routine.



And just to make life more interesting, right when the cold sore no longer hurt and was disappearing, I got a pimple right on my nose.



It wasn't any old pimple too. It was the grand-daddy of pimples. It was the sebaceous cyst! It's the orca of acne.



So I got two choices now. I could try and schedule an appointment with the ONE dermatologist on the whole island and maybe get to see him by April, or, I can wait it out. Gonna be a long month.

*****

Lately I've been seeing signs of aging. I noticed that it takes me much longer to recover from colds than when I was young. I seem to take about a week now which can suck because I managed to get two colds this year. I was planning on getting a flu shot at the start of the flu season, but then I got the flu. So I figured I was done for the season. Then I got another bout a month later. I am so awesome at foresight.

As I age, I keep an eye out for gray hair. I usually have a mop-top head since I'm too lazy to get a hair cut. I used to Flowbee my head rather than take time to go to a salon. But my hair still remains black like usual.



Except for my chin whiskers.



How is it I can have a gray beard but black hair? It gets worse.

The other day I looked down "there," while I peed. Next to my penette (a penis, only smaller) was a gray pubic hair. WTF?



I didn't even know that could happen. I plucked that sucker out. (The hair, not the penette.)

*****

I was on the phone with a female friend.

"I'd like to see you get really mad for once," she said.

"You sure? Because I would punch a girl."

She seemed taken aback by my statement. I guess it does seem misogynistic and violent.



Don't get me wrong. I don't condone violence against women, or any violence at all. I'm not suggesting that I would go out and randomly punch a woman for kicks.

Donkey punching is still subject to negotiation.

I just believe that if anyone attacks or intends to harm me or my charges, I would use everything in my power to eliminate that threat. Doesn't matter if the assailant is male or female.

You see, I'm not advocating battering women. I'm advocating gender equality. Equal rights and all that jazz!



I'm progressive like that.

Aren't You Glad I Didn't Say, "Banana?"

It's time for another installment of Nonwheezer's Movie Reviews!

Let's just jump in with both feet:



Tough guys push hard to get their balls through the rim.



A bunch of sailors and divers take it in deep.



Kungfu tough guys whacking and beating each other.



Teenagers do a hole a day.



Women are nuts.



Ichabod checks out a chick's hollow while a hessian goes out and looks for head.



A genius nerd is thinking about entering a hole.



Some guys go down and some chicks get eaten.



Some high schoolers play in a friend's hole.



A couple spend good money to play with tools in the privacy of their home.



A bunch of young fire-eaters wait for their chance to get into someones hole.



Farm girls use a well to create dykes.



Two guys tie the knot, then break up.



A preppy and an outcast fight for a girl's valley.


***See? It's not all penis humor. I hope you saw the connection.

Truth in Advertising: Willy

This is going to be crude.

Today's topic for Truth in Advertising is a young man named Willy. It's an appropriate name. Willy has a big willy. He's a bull.



This is Willy. Quite the stud eh? He's a seventeen year old high school student, and one heck of a mountain bike rider.



You may have seen him co-starring in a short movie called Playground.



Now here's the thing. Willy got himself a big tool.



A hammer, if you will. And he uses it to nail, and pound, and hit anything with a vagina and two legs. And I think the girls can either sense it, or they can pick up his genitallic scent because they're rushing for a chance to ride his baloney pony.



I'm not kidding. Girls are literally throwing themselves at him. He's one of the few guys who can do the "smell my finger," routine and have three different punchlines at the same time.



It's lucky for Willy that Cosco opened a store on this island. He can now buy his condoms in bulk. It's also lucky for Malaysia since their GNP rose 8% just on the rubber sales.



If you watched the video, you'd notice that Willy rides with jeans. He has to. Three weeks ago he tried to ride without jeans and his donkey cock kept flapping in the breeze.



One silver-haired granny saw him ride past and remarked, "oh deary my! I haven't been this excited since Nimitz issued shore leave."



Calling Willy's willy a donkey cock may not be all too fair. A more apt description would be whale dork.



I'm serious. In fact, today he was following me on the downhill ride and I felt him tap me on the shoulder. When I looked back, he still had both hands on the handlebar. I never pedalled as desperately as I did today.

I also heard that Ron Jeremy is secretly paying Willy to not show his penis on any public media.



I know some of you reading this are thinking that I'm jealous. Truth be told, yes I am. Willy is such a selfish fuck! How the hell is a mild mannered micro-cock supposed to get any play when Willy's hogging all the chicks?



I'm seething. grrrr.

Even Riley is dumbfounded at the size differential.