Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Evan Writes Twilight

Keeping in mind that I know nothing about Twilight outside of it having vampires, teenagers, and is genuienly considered to be garbage. I have seen the trailer once or twice and have heard accounts of the movie itself from a few friends who have seen it, but generally don't know shit about the overall plot/characters etc, so I thought I'd take a swing at writing a chapter or two. Here we go:

Twilight Chapter 1: The Twilighting

Susan McAverage stepped out of her dad's Toyota Chevy Hardcore Truck, loaded to the brim with pictures of the United States and bottles of Jim Beam. Today was her first day of high school at the sleepy town of "Mysteryville" and as she was the first member of her family to attend a school of any kind, the responsibility of bringing the McAverage name into the light of day fell on her.

"Don't worry Dad, I'll make you proud."

Susan's father shoved her out of the truck and threw her backpack out of the opposite window, watching it tumble quickly down a nearby hill. He then took a swig of a bottle of Jim Beam, slammed his foot on the accelerator and began playing Ted Nugent's "Wango Tango" as loudly as he could.
"See ya later boner!" was the last thing he said before peeling out away from Susan and hitting a nearby lamp post. Susan smiled knowingly.
"That's my daddy." She thought as she brushed herself off and arose to her feet. The prospect of a new school was exciting to Susan, but she was nervous that she wouldn't fit in. What's a new girl with a size two dress size and a 36 double D chest supposed to do when everyone already knows each other? Susan was getting more nervous. She would need to do her best to fit in.

"Hey new girl!" Susan swung around with a big smile on her face, ready to accept the challenges of her new school, staring at a group of cheerleaders whose arms were crossed and looking directly at her. "Where are you from?"

"I'm from Mysterytown."

"MysteryTOWN? Uggghhh. That means you're from the country! Countrygirl! We instantly hate you! Right girls?" The cheerleaders nodded in unison, looking at each other and shaking their pom poms in unison. "You are such a loser. You should wear a bonnet on that perfectly proportioned head on top of that dead sexy body with no real imperfections to speak of."

"Stop it! You're so cruel." Susan wept openly, the cheerleaders chewing their gum and laughing in unison. Susan, in her confusion, tripped like a person with Down Syndrome on a nearby ledge only to witness an oncoming delivery truck hurling straight toward her. The driver was too busy reading Des Cartes to notice that Susan was there! Oh no!

"So the meaning of life is perpendicular to the meaning of the soul and.....OH SHIT BANANA!" The driver yelled out as he tried to spin the delivery truck around but it was too late, Susan was done for. Or thats what she thought until she noticed a figure dart in front of her and place his hand over her shoulder while also extending out his arm, stopping the truck instantly.

"Are you all right?" The figure asked as Susan gazed deeply into his cold, black eyes. His hair stood up straight like a penis ready for some action, his breath smelled like flowers and other shit that girls like, his strong hands felt like they had been making sausage in an abandoned warehouse with a meat grinder for the better part of the day.

"I'm....fine. Wow, you stopped that truck with your hand!"

"Ain't no thang." The figure stood up and brushed off his shoulder, before giving the driver the evil eye and walking away.

"Wait! I need to know the name of the man who saved me." Susan cried out as the figure stopped and walked back toward her.

"My DJ Vampire 'n Shit." DJ Vampire 'n Shit instantly put on his Berkley sunglasses and snapped his fingers like it didn't matter at all. He began walking away as Susan followed.

"DJ Vampire?" Susan asked.

"'N Shit Bitch! 'N Shit! Damn! Making a mother fucker repeat himself twice like. God damn! Ain't you got no sense of timing and dramaticy" DJ Vampire 'n Shit lit up a Newport, took one puff and threw it on the ground, just because he could.

"Sorry. My name is Susan. Susan McAverage."

"Well McAverage, if you want to survive in the town of Mysteryville, I would suggest you watch where you be steppin."

"Good advice, tee hee." Susan bit her lip and began playing with her hair, realizing that she would be late for school but not really caring. "So uhhhmmm do you like go to school here or anything?"
"I go to the school of the damned. I play kickball in the nether regions of human darkness and sorrow. I eat lunch in the cafeteria of longing and pain. I dissect frogs in the science lab of despair. I go to the prom in the gym of nihilism. After school I get picked up by my mom in the minivan of degradation and sin."

"Radical. I'm from the country."
"Pssshhh shit bitch, quit tripping all over my words like you got down syndrome." DJ Spoke as he brushed off his shoulder.....TWO TIMES!
"Sorry about that. So, how did you stop that truck? What are you?"

"I think you know what I am. Say it!"

".....Are you a Frankenstein?" DJ Vampire slapped himself in the forehead. "Oh no I know. You're a mummy. That's why you're so pale."

"I'm a vampire bitch! DJ Vampire n Shit. God damn! You got a case of the stupids or something?" Susan looked at him with a confused look, causing DJ to roll his eyes. "Man whatever. Listen you want to go hit up my car and do the deed 'fore you got to be a bitch and go to school?"

"But if you're a vampire who's a million years old, wouldn't that be considered pedophilia?"


"DJ VAMPIRE N SHIT!" A booming voice burst through the night air, because it was night now for some reason. "WE MUST HAVE WORDS!"

"WHO THAT IS?" DJ Vampire responded.
"IT IS I! YOUR BROTHER! "Gotta Be Fighting Them Hoes Off With My Fangs 'N Crap"!"

"Oh shit, my brother Gotta Be Fighting Them Hoes Off With My Fangs 'N Crap." DJ Vampire 'N Shit was astonished to see his brother Gotta Be Fighting Them Hoes Off With My Fangs 'N Crap. The two brothers were almost exactly alike, but Gotta Be Fighting Them Hoes Off With My Fangs 'N Crap was bigger, stronger, hair was taller, and was all around better looking than his younger brother.

"We must settle our age old conflict. After countless eons of struggle, this age old battle must end and only one of us may survive the night, which it is now......which makes complete sense."

"But how can we settle that shit?" DJ questioned.
"The only way we know how. By playing baseball....with our shirts off!"


End Chapter 1

Monday, July 20, 2009

"Shaq vs" Oh the humanity.

Shaq is a rich man. Shaq is a man who can play a great game of basketball. Shaq is not very good at other things, but believes himself to be, which makes for a pretty entertaining time whenever you watch him do....well....anything really. This is why I am really looking forward to the newest show that Shaq has in the works which is appropriately named, "SHAQ VS."

Shaq has decided that all who oppose him will be crushed, but not only crushed by either him pummeling them to death with his mighty fists or him schooling them on the courts in basketball, oh no, in order to dispense justice, Shaq will own all fools in their God given talents. Shaq will compete with Michael Phelps in a "Who can swim the fastest competition" Oh I can just see how this is going to go.

Future competitions will include: Football against Ben Roethlisberger, Tennis against Serena Williams, Beach Volleyball against Kerri Walsh, boxing against Oscar De La Hoya, and the ability to create life against God. Shaq may actually be able to wreck Oscar De La Hoya in boxing if you think about it and I bet God is quaking in his boots on the life thing.

I say to Shaq, why stop at sports and deity competitions? Why not show your dominance in all walks of life? Take on the greatest teacher in the world and teach HIM knowledge on the world of Shaq (which includes the Superman Symbol, Kazaam, and DUNKING SICK BASKETS!). Take on Barack Obama in a presidential contest by balancing the country's budget....BY DUNKING OVER HIM! There's an old woman across the street from me who says she can macromai herself a sweet tea cozy, beat her at her own game.....BY BRINGING IT TO HOLE! While we're at it, why don't you show Elton John that....

I was actually going to say beating him in a piano playing competition but good effort Shaq, eye of the tiger! I look forward to your future endeavors, and hope that when you, Shaq, become president of basketball, you'll remember the little people who made it possible, like me, writing this blog entry.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Green Lantern is a racist!

Wow. What an asshole that Green Lantern is. SO racist. Every time I see him, all I can think of is how he uses his ring at clan rallies and Republican conventions. We all seem to be missing out on the real threat here, which is those fucking purple skin assholes. Man, they are always getting into my business like, "Hey, I have purple skin. Back off! What you want man? Just mind your business. Just mind your business."

But Evan, you say, Green Lantern isn't a racist just cause that guy says so. You're right, he's a racist because he fights "villains" who are committing "evil" deeds. "Villains" like the aptly named "Black Hand".

Man, what a raw deal this guy got. All he was doing was looking for his car keys using lit up dildo he found in his grandmothers closet. He wears the costume with an arrow on the mask so he remembers how to put it on. Yes, not only is the Black Hand representing his pride in another race, he also has down syndrome. Wow, Hal Jordan just takes pot shots at everybody.

And when Black Hand couldn't find his keys to drive Mr. Green Lantern to the store to get a pack of smokes, what do you think Mr. Jordan did?Yep, he burned his hand off. Oh the irony is delicious and wrong.

But you know what Black Hand is going to be all right. He's an optimistic guy and surely the loss of his hand won't deter him from achieving his dreams. Right BH?


Listen, if you're offered a power ring that turns you into a space cop, do the right thing and don't let the power go to your head. And also don't be a small infant.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Evan vs. The Metro

Welcome to the District of Columbia Metro system, the fifth circle of hell for traitors and thieves. We will take you where you want to go, but get ready to be crammed into a sardine before you get there you hopeless bastard! Muhahahah!

Ok, maybe thats a little much but you get the general idea.

I've been taking the Washington DC Public Metro ever since I started going to high school at Gonzaga in downtown DC and have continued doing so for a good portion of my life and let me tell you, the metro is a gift and a curse rolled into one abominable package. Recently its been more like the fucking Bumble from Rudolph the Reindeer before getting his teeth kicked in.

Now recently, a really horrible accident took place in the Metro which was one train ran into another and caused a few deaths, numerous injuries, and an overall "holy shit, everytime the metro squeaks and creeks, that's probably rats eating the brake cables, thus ensuring our untimely demise".

In response to this, or possibly the fact that metro has a less number of trains due to crashes and lack of money, there is now one train that is running for all of DC. Ok this is an exagerration but what isn't an exagerration is that there is basically one train coming every ten minutes for everyone. Every. Ten. Minutes. This is during rush hour mind you. I have never EVER seen or been in more cramped quarters than the ones that have been created now due to this accident.

When will this clear up, when will more trains be acquired, and when will we get more than one train every lunar cycle? Who knows. All I know is that I'm getting into work thirty minutes later every day, crammed against everyone and that isn't exactly thrilling.

Life taught me to love, the metro has taught me to hate. Here are things I now hate thanks to the metro:

1.) Backpacks/luggage/etc.

Ever since they started putting wheels on all bags and luggage, everyone has decided to wheel their shit around behind them at all times. I guess this is the next step in human evolution as we begin to move further and further away from doing......anything really. These little nightmares have become such a hassle for everyone who is not carrying the actual luggage. This luggage now makes one person turn into the equivalent of three, pulling it behind them and causing people to trip and crash into the side of metro walls. We're getting off at Metro station people, I don't see an airport! Why are you carrying that friggin thing?!?

2.) The "Voice" of the Metro

You know, the "voice", the woman who robotically and unemotionally tells people on the metro what steps to take when it comes to drinking soda or not getting your legs chopped off by an out of control train car. I have heard, "Step back, doors closing *Bing bong*" so many times that I hear it when I go to sleep now, its carved into my brain. Not only that but the "voice" also tries to feed everyone paranoia every once in awhile. "Excuse me, is that your bag? Please ask someone near a bag this question." the voice says as I'm waiting for a train. I roll my eyes as the "voice" apparently thinks that places like Adams Morgan and Van Ness are constant terrorist hotspots where unattended bags are harbingers of death. You have more of a chance of being killed by bees than terrorists, so why doesn't the "voice" tell me to watch out for bee hives or shark attacks or falling coconuts?

It would be way more easy to swallow a lot of the "voice's" advice if it were actually a cool voice like the voice from the movie trailers or Curly from the Three Stooges. "Hey! Make sure your baby doesn't fall on the third rail or else goodbye baby!......Yuck yuck yuck."

3.) The Metro Drivers.

Now this can be 50/50 for the most part, but a lot of the time, doesn't it seem like they're sitting up in the front and fucking with people? I remember one day recently there was a report that people were getting sick on the train which was causing delays and I noticed why as the train proceeded to start moving, then stop, then start again, then stop, then start again, then stop, and again and again and again before even reaching the next platform. Its like a roller coaster.....of boredom and depression.

4.) My nose.

The horrifying smells of people is amplified when you're trapped in a car with everyone and can't even move. I never really knew what depression smelled like until the Metro. Someone literally farted right next to me this morning and my soul started to cry.

5.) People.

Nothing makes you appreciate humanity more than being squeezed to death by the masses on a speeding bullet. Its kind of a test of your humanity in a way when you're on the metro in trying to beat the "pack" mentality of it. Its a rough thing to say but its true in some ways. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people SPRINTING to get on a train only to be caught in the doors, causing them to stall, swing open, then slam shut again as the person wiggles their way into the car. Charming. Even before the accident and the trains, people would do this ad nauseum. Yes, we all want to get where we want to go, but honestly, can't you just wait for the next car, it'll be there in a few minutes.

One instance, I was crammed into a car in the morning and the doors swung open and a man in a suit stood outside of the car. Now, the man did not believe there could possibly be no room for him in the car, even having seen the evidence that everyone was to the point of not being able to breath and proclaimed, "Could everyone just move in so I could get on the train?" People kind of shrugged after he said this, which caused him to get red and the face and say, "Yeah that's right, don't say anything!" as he stood there tapping his foot against the platform. "Unbelievable!" At that point, I wanted to take the business suited man and cram his face into the armpit of the fat old lady next to me and yell, "HERE YOU CAN HAVE IT!" Oh sweet justice.

So for the record, until this whole mess is cleared away, I would highly recommend taking your car into work cause the metro is fucking clownshoes at the moment.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Evan's Lessons from the Weekend!

Good morning Tales of a Gangly Bastard readers. Hope everyone had a nice and good weekend. Mine was quite long and relaxing for the most part. It was also very informative. I learned a number of things.
1.) The last thing that you ever want to say to a police officer is, "I'm going for your weapon!" This is the best way in the world to get choke slammed. Now keep in mind, I myself didn't do this but outside of a bar on Thursday night, I was witness to someone yelling this as he got taken to the ground. The kid was either so drunk or so hopped up on adrenaline, that when they started tasing him, he shrugged it off and yelled, "ITS FEELS GOOD! YOU'RE A BUNCH OF BITCHES!" It was funny and sad in the fact that the guy was literally one step away from me on the sidewalk and I forgot to take a picture. It reminded me of the "Don't tase me bro!" but in reverse. And no, thats not me in the picture, but a strange facsimile.

2.) The Angus burger at McDonald's is fan-fucking-tastic. I know I've been on the recent health kick recently, but when I heard that they were starting to serve these here in the DC area, as they do in NYC, I was giddy. Go out and try one of these at least once.

3.) I know where the Real World house is now. Its true. I visited it in a drunken stupor and actually spoke with one of the cast members. I asked him, "Hey, is this the Real World house?" he looked at me sadly and nodded his head, almost as if he didn't originally know what he was getting into. Jungo knew though. Jungo always knew. Here's a picture of the house by the way, pretty damn nice.

4.) Dead Set is an amazing show about zombies that was made by the BBC. It was about six episodes long. Watch it when you get the chance.

5.) I don't know what the story is behind this picture, but I NEED to. The dog looks like his brain is about to shoot out of his nose.

6.) I need to stop writing Thor so damn much and start writing standup again. I have the problem of being too much of a perfectionist though. Current new material I'm working on:

The Stork, Sarah Palin joke (wow how original), Dad fights a bear, and about a zillion other things I have brewing in my head that need to be put on paper. I also need to just debut Archibald F Trousers already.

7.) I am so torn on whether or not I should see Transformers 2. Half the people I know say it is the worst movie ever made while the other half says it is awesome. You can see why I am torn.

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Evan Answers Questions

For today's blog, I thought I'd get some questions from my Rogues Gallery that I could answer. Feel free to keep throwing questions and I'll update accordingly.

Our first question is from Christopher Brooks and he asks,

"Dear Evan, Why don't you get a haircut?"

This is a good question. Chris has the ability to ask good questions because he does not have a job. People with no jobs can ask good questions.

Anyway, Chris, I tend to have two different hairstyles that I like to go for. Aside from the nice goatee I have going, which gives me a very Oliver Queen look going right now (Oliver Queen is the Green Arrow, as pictured below):

I usually like to have my hair either fairly long or really short. I've always been kind of "Shaggy" in that respect. At some point, I'll shave it all off again and start the whole process over. When I had my "ultra shaved look", a girl told me I looked like an "IRA Terrorist". I tipped my hat, blew up the bar we were in, and then skipped away. Everything worked out fine.

So basically, at some point in the near future, I'll shave it all off again or clean it up a little.

Our next question comes from Mr. Ben Russell. Hello Ben. His question is:

"What's the strangest thing you've ever intentionally placed in your ear, nose, and/or throat?"

Well Ben, thats a good question. When I was six years old, I was playing with a pile of marbles and beads that a member of my family had left lying around. During which, I thought it would be a great idea to see how far I could jam a bead up my nose and then shoot it out by blowing out air. I crammed a bead up my nose and then tried to shoot it out.....No good. I tried again, nope still crammed up there. I started to panic and went a good 30 minutes before giving up and tugging at my mom's dress.

"Mom" I said. "I have a bead stuck up my nose."

She panicked and was trying to get it out by spraying water up my nose to no success. So off to the doctor we went where proceeded to shoot some kind of gunk up there and used some tweezers to get the bead out. Remember that scene from Total Recall?Kind of like that.

Our next question is from Mr. Chris Piers, editor of the comic books Invincible and The Walking Dead. His question is:

"Where did you first do standup?"

In the upper part of the cafeteria of my college senior year. It was part of an event my school had set up, their own little "Last Comic Standing" competition. The original prize for the winner was going to be "Winner gets to open up for Lewis Black, who will be coming to campus in a few months". Through the urging on of a couple of friends, I signed up for the competition. I took a day off classes and just wrote some jokes.

I can remember a few of them, I know that I wasn't anywhere near as polished as I am now and probably flubbed more than a few words. One joke was about God and Jesus working in an office where they both get hammered at a Christmas party. God of course is bragging about how Jesus is the perfect son and God gives him the ultimate advice of "never stick it in the crazy".

I did a joke, which is now infamous that I have never EVER done since, about the fact that starting off doing comedy amongst friends is probably the best way to go. But the more experienced, you get, the harder the venue should be. I then talked about Jerry Seinfeld doing standup comedy in a cancer ward. Doing a really bad Seinfeld impression and an impression of someone with a robot voice who more than likely had throat cancer.

"Hey, what's the deal with cancer am I right?"
"We're dying!"

Ironically, I ended up winning the competition, unfortunately Lewis Black backed out of having a kid open for him so I got $200 instead. Not too shabby. Unfortunately, someone had taken offense to the joke about cancer.

Immediately after the show, a small girl tapped me on the shoulder and said (I'll never forget this until the day I die.), "You know my dad has cancer, but congratulations on your win, you fucking prick." and stormed off. I sat there, simply stunned and swore to never do standup comedy again. Oh but it didn't end there.

Because a week later, in the school newspaper, the same girl wrote an article entitled, "Last Comic Standing: No Laughing Matter"

In the article, which is real and can be viewed at the following website ( she wrote the following:

"I, for one, had to leave in the beginning of Mr. Valentine's comedic act when he joked about cancer patients. I must congratulate him for a close to perfect presentation of my father during his sickness. Not only did he speak as my dad did (because of his trach-tube) but he also seemed to know that cancer patients need some kind of comedy in their life by pointing out how beginning comedians perform in cancer wards in the hospital. As soon as Mr. Valentine's hand went over his throat to imitate the voice, I saw my dad dying in our family room and immediately had to leave."

Ouch. My soul.

I wrote a rebuttal that was very indepth and well thought out but man, did it cut me deep. Eventually, after college, I started doing open mics in Arlington at the now defunct Dr. Dremo's and met up with a number of comedians and went from there. But I will never EVER forget the controversy and insanity of the first time I did standup, thats for damn sure.