Richardland Blog

Mangos are everywhere now. And I can’t fkkn take it.

I washed my hands and noticed the orange soap with the little exfoliatie beads in it is mango.
My mom picked me up a gillato on the way home and got mango.
My only clean shirt left was a sleeveless orange mango color.
Someone sent me an SNL skit online of Chris Ketans male stripper character named Mango.

Ever since my mango blog, they’re everywhere. they are every. where.

Dude. I can’t handle this. wtf.

Now I have to kill. Its the only answer. Blood must be shed. This is a sign. The mango must have blood. BLOOD!!

nah, jk. I’ll just have a banana instead.

The first time this happened was August 06 at Wheelers house. Sleeping on the ratty futon mattress he keeps in his guest bedroom, I fell asleep on one of my arms or something. I don know, but I woke up flipping the hell out cuz I couldn’t feel it. Too tired and running only on the shot of adrenaline that woke me up, all I could do was stand go “huuah… HUAHHH!” and look around panicked for a little bit until I realized feeling was coming back to my limb and it had just fallen asleep and I would be fine.

Then October 07 I was ill and took some Niquil (store brand Niquil knockoff if we wanna be precise) and while waiting for it to kick in I was stretching on my bed. Well, the effect snuck the eff up on me I guess, cuz I fell asleep laying down with my left leg bent behind me so that the bottom of my foot was on my back. 20 minutes later, it was dead enough to force me awake with the same shock and fear.

Now, just a few minutes ago I woke up and it happened to something else. But I don’t know what. It’s so late and I’m so tired at the time I’m writing this (2:59AM) that I can’t remember if it was my arm or leg. Dammit. This blog is useless now. I should have written this experience first and then gone back to the others. Stupid. What was I thinking? Stupid, stupid STOOPID! Gawd.

Eff this blog. Not just THIS blog. The whole thing. I’m shutting it down. This is stupid. How annoying.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I like mangoes. They’re not all that tasty, but I jus like em. So back off.I only get to eat them when I’m here at my parents house in Texas though cuz I can’t cut them myself (so my mommy has to do it for me). And since I can’t cut them, when I eat them I just skin them and chew. Which is bad. Because mangoes have trace amounts of urishoil oil in them (the poison in poison oak & ivy) or something like that. And I didn’t know that. So last year when I discovered I like mangoes, I developed a clown mouth that was really annoying and lasted kindov awhile. Red, raw itchy rash around my lips. It was less fun than it sounds.

But back to the main point: If you wanna chill some time over a bowl of Mang, then call me up, cuz I’m down.

Mangoes are an odd fruit to eat. I remember years back this chick I met in Hawaii emailed me at some point when I announced I was going back next time and she said “eat a mango for me” and I was like “go to hell bitch”. I was partly offended cuz my Hawaiian fruit of choice is Papaya (though we had to break up after I discovered Mexican papayas), but also part cuz who the hell eats mangoes? Just plain mango? Eff off bitch.

Not anymore though. They’re good. I like em. And after seeing Geraldo Rivera talk about his new book called HIS PANIC (hispanic) about America’s alleged paranoia toward latino’s on O’Reilly last night, it makes me think of mango as Man Go.

Go where? Over my house for some mango munchin good timez that’s where.

Oh, beware though, cuz apparently they make you shit. But I’m immune to that stuff or something cuz my favorite snack at home is mixing macadamia nuts (also mild laxatives) and dried mangoes and my [rest of this sentence edited so I can end on a note that doesn't switch the focus to how good mangoes are to how good my bowel movements are].

Stupid Oscars. “Oh, we’re givin out little trophies if we think u done good with ur moovieees. Everyone better come make a big ass deal about it!”

It’s 12 hours long and for what? To hand out gold statues of naked men to actors and film workers. oooOOooo. Big flippin deal. Oh, you’re the BEST because the Academy said so. Ooooo. The Academyyyy. Wow. Die.

I don’t ever want to be nominated for an Oscar. I don’t ever want to win an Oscar. I don’t ever want to make a “thank you” speech because I’d have no one to thank.  I did all the work. Hellooo. Give the award to my mom, my wife, my coworkers or my dog if they were sooo intrigal to my getting it.

And yes, unnamed entertainment/hollywood show, I DO still feel this way. So don’t think you’re all bein cute by digging up this blog and asking if I’ve changed my mind now that I’m a bigshot nominee. You know I’ll be gracious about it. But I’ll still feel the same. I don’t care about ur stooopid statues. So bitez me.

My adoring fans are asking what happened to my face and why I have a Band-Aid on in my breakfast smoothie lollipop jam-out video that was a surprise hit.

Obviously some injury, but what? Slice myself with a knife? Finger nail clipping accident? Tree branch? Others have hypothesized that perhaps I was just covering up a n unsightly pimple.

I thought its inclusion in the video was obvious, but I guess I have to explain.
I was being badass like Nelly… The rapper. Duh.

Apparently I know so little about popular culture that the Nelly Band-Aid thing was years ago and no one remembers cuz he doesn’t do it anymore. Is he even still alive?

He was my neighbor in Lake St Louis ya know. Jimmy played basketball with him.

So see? I know stuff…

Well whatever. Here’s a screenshot of the part where I swing the camera around with an exposed cheek. I forgot to put it on then. You can see I am uninjured, but thanks for your concern.

Watch the video here >>
Even though you’re totally dumb if you didn’t know the link at the begining of this post was a link to the video. Idiot. Why you gotta make me repeat myself like sum chump? Go to hell.

I made a dentist appointment for today, because as I mentioned in December, I thought I had a tiny little cavity in one of my molars. I thought that because when I brush it at just the right angle it hurts and feels like the bristles are entering and tickling my nerve endings.

During the cleaning, the girl told me I was “doing a really good job at home” since she barely was able to scrape any plaque off and my gums didn’t bleed during the flossing. I’m doing a really good job? SO not what I wanted to hear. I wanted to be a plaque ridden bloody mess. I wanted her to say “dear God, its good that you finally came to the dentist after 4 years since your last check up!”. But no. I was doing as good a job as they would do, at my house, for free.

The dentist comes and chats with me for a little. I tell him that in addition to my suspected cavity, something is wrong with some of my molars. Probably a filling that is leaking. Cuz when I eat gooey or gummie sweets, I get pinprick pains in them. So he taps around my teeth a little with his mini Captain Hook hand and nothing hurts. Then he tells me I have a small cavity where I thought I had one, except on my upper teeth.

What. the fuck? Neither of my two pains yielded real life results, but one that I’ve never felt before exists? Umm. Die?

Well, I wasn’t gonna argue with the guy with the X-rays in his hand, so I said alrighty and was processed out at the front counter.

The bill was $150.

I just paid people $150… to brush my mother effing teeth.

Phone call transcript:

Girl: I wish that Dinosaurs were still alive
Me: Huh?
Girl: Dinosaurs
Me: umm… why?
Girl: Cuuuuzz. That’d be awesome. Have dinosaurs all walkin around n shit

Because they’re pimp, yo. And plus I was just kidding about being better than you because of them. Its not cuzza that. psh. I’m better than you for a million other reasons that have nothing to do with my vastly superior eyeware. But this sure doesn’t help your case. Bitches.

Whatsamatter wienies? You intimidated by my awesomeness? Clearly so. Cuz over the last 3 months, five female friends I don’t talk to often or haven’t seen in person in awhile (or ever) on Myspace and Facebook have made passive aggressive comments about how my main pictures are missing shirts.

Ya. They sure are. So wuts it to ya bitches?

They’ll say things like “put a shirt on!” or comment a fully clothed picture with “didn’t know you owned any shirts!” (yuk yuk), but what they really want to say is that “I hate that your body is better than mine and that you’re not ashamed of flashing it around like I am”.

You can try and intimidate me into falling in line to behavior you’re more comfortable with allz you want lay-dies. But it ain gon have no effectz on meh.

Cuz what you have trouble understanding my dear children is that I don’t post pictures like that for any of your pathetic little reasons you do/have/ or would.

Not to get attention or impress the ladies.
Not to show off to my fellow males or earn respect.
Not to reassure myself that yes I AM sexy (”I am dammit! right??”)
Not to chronicle and boast over recent improvement in my appearance.

I post them for one reason and one reason only:

Because I’m a vain motherfucker.

And I like the sight of my own gloriousness.
And nothing. NOTHING. you say. will ever. everrrr. change that.

It is MYspace int it? Facebook is a page all about yourself still, right?
Ya. I thought so girls.
See ya around.
Good day…….

I don’t so much remember Sexy ever leaving or being absent, so how can anyone bring it back?

I hate that I have to do this, but I’ll feel like I’m dating this post at the expense of future generations not privy to this phrase. So for you, people of the future: its a Justin Timberlake song that has spawned other people to make the same claim that they too are coaxing sexy to return.

So what’s going on guys?

Did I not notice that sexy had left, because, sexy came to ME perhaps? When people bring it back, are they taking away from MY sexy to re-distribute it among the commoners like some sick sexy Robin Hood? Are you thieving communists deciding by some flipnut leftist process that sexy has been in exile too long and its now all of a sudden YOUR job to bring it back?

Well screw you guys. Sexy and I have been living together happily for about 9 years. We’ve built a life together. We like things the way they are.

Just who in the HELL appointed you the sexy judge and jury? Hm? Assholes.

Back off and leave us alone. If sexy wants to pay a visit, its free to do so any time it wants. It doesn’t need your help.

You’re a jerk. And you’re not sexy. Go to hell.