The Yogurt Monologues (Part IV 1/2)

Horror of all horrors!

Far scarier than anything else I’ve seen so far this Halloween season was the oriental man I witnessed shaving his nutsack in the member’s lounge at the gym this evening.

There he was: naked and spread-eagled like most of the other old dudes in the locker room, except with razor in hand and in the process of gingerly pruning his pubic hair from the underside of his balls…and on the leather couch no less!

How fucking gross is that? Talk about taking complete advantage of your Members Plus plan!

It’s bad enough that I have to put up with the significant quota of shriveled old man dick that I do in the locker room as it is, but when somebody feels the need to start carving out pubic hair topiaries in full view of God and everybody in the lounge area to boot – well, that’s just going too damn far!

Now, I already knew that oriental dudes are some pretty sick perverted motherfuckers *. They will do twisted weird shit in public that the rest of us here in the reserved Western World would cringe in complete fear over. Perhaps shaving your balls in a public place is commonplace on streets of Hong Kong, but at the local YMCA – not so much.

I literally stared agape at this public atrocity I had stumbled across on my way to the Steam Room. I was dumbfounded. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tear my eyes away either. At first I thought that somebody had slipped acid into my ‘Grape Nuts’ or something. But quickly I realized what was going on.

Was this guy really trimming the hair on his scrotal sack? And for what purpose exactly? Does anybody ever really notice those types of things? How vane does one have to be before they decide they have to primp and preen their pubic hair?

“Hey, Yoshi. Nice do on your nutsack there.”

The questions flooded my brain like the French Quarter levees.

It was wrong on so many levels.

* Hey - I’ve seen some videos and heard a few things, okay?

Ganja On My Mind

In a single vicious stroke for justice, the Louisiana Highway Patrol has managed to successfully gain a all-too-brief upper hand on America’s ongoing War on Drugs.

That’s right, folks! Willie Nelson’s tour bus was finally raided this past September after a routine pull over. The officers at the scene caught a whiff of something suspicious emanating from the vehicle as soon as the driver opened the door where over one and a half pounds of marijuana and a small bag of psychedelic mushrooms estimated at two-tenths of a pound were found. That’s sure taking a bite out of crime all right!

So Willie likes his ganja. Big surprise there, huh?

According to Willie Williams* of the Louisiana Highway Patrol, aside from the 73-year-old ringleader, citations were issued to his sister, Bobbie Nelson, 75, of Briarcliff, Texas; Gates Moore, 54, from Austin; David Anderson, 50, of Dallas; and Tony Sizemore, 59, of St. Cloud, Florida. Sure sounds like one hard-fucking-core gang of wiley dope runners, eh?

Way to go, Officer Williams - you busted a busload of senior citizens.

Boy! Do I feel safer now! Thank God that good ‘ol country boy is finally off the streets.

If convicted, they could each face up to six months in jail--but probation and/or fines are more likely sentences. Pardon? Isn't six months for smoking pot a bit harsh for 73 year old woman? Glaucoma, arthritis, anaemia, constipation, rheumatic pain, jaundice, asthma, muscular dystrophy, epilepsy, excitability - take your fucking pick! Shit, an old woman should be stoned 24-fucking-7! Being caught smoking pot on a tourbus hardly qualifies them for the Helmet of Rats. Shit, why not just cancel their cable subscriptions so that they can’t get their regular fixes of Matlock and justice will just about have been served.

In Nelson’s defense, Williams added: "No one aboard the bus gave any of our troopers any problems. When the search was conducted, they were very cordial and, subsequently, admitted to being the owners of the narcotics."

What else would you expect from a busload of stoned seniors there, exactly, Schwarzkopf? Jeez, consider yourselves lucky they remembered their name.

* What were the chances?

Magaza Strip

A new eating establishment opened up across the street from my place of employment the other day called ‘Magaza’ - an Oasis among a wasteland of fast food burgers and greasy Pizza Huts.

Initially I was concerned about being kidnapped and beheaded should I try and enter the place; but upon closer inspection, I realized that it was not a Jihad kind of thing and so I ventured through the front doors.

To my surprise, it was a rather pleasant European-style deli - a real live healthy, home-cooked fare type of joint. I’m not really sure what a “European-style deli” really is, but from the specials I read on the sign I’m led to believe that is means they love their meat and fresh food. Whatever, the Europeans apparently really know how to operate a deli.

Having just recently considered switching to vegetarianism, this discovery couldn’t have come at a more crucial time – namely in stopping my ass from doing anything drastic such as going vegan. You see, I realize now that I like meat. I mean, I, really, love, my meat (and not in the perverted sense). So much so, that when I go to the butcher’s (or a deli in this case), I believe that I don’t actually choose my cut of meat - my cut of meat chooses me!

I am a happy, dedicated carnivore. My appreciation for fine meat is almost spiritual. I confess.

In fact, I think in order to be done properly, there should be some kind of ‘Compatibility Application’ submitted in advance before being allowed to choose your meat cut. Not just any retard should be able to pick out any ‘ol meat cut he wants so that he can just take it home and wreck the shit out of it on a cheap-ass Hibachi.

No, sir! Why not take it even one step further?

How about some speed-dating type of arrangement where you’re seated with a dozen or so types of meat providing you the opportunity to get to know the meat cut first before being expected to make your final evenings BBQ decision?

Imagine that conversational meet-and-greet:

“So, have you ever done this kind of thing before?”

Pork chop: (silent)

“What kind of vegetable do you see yourself being served with?”

Pork chop: (silent)

“Do you like marinade, or would you prefer a dry rub?”

Pork chop: (begins to sweat)

“What’s your stance on Propane vs. Charcoal?”

Pork chop: (silent)