Totes Rando

Last Friday I went to Floyd’s Barbershop in Santa Monica and told the stylist that she could do whatever she wanted.  While the tattoo laden stylist distracted me with an interesting conversation about the health risks involved in anal sex she managed to give me a haircut that later garnered references such as - a fighter pilot, Hitler and the guitarist from Interpol.

Later on that night, an Amazonian cougar drunkenly swaggered over to me, showed me a dinner menu and asked me if I was on it.  She was about three inches taller than me and there was a decent chance I would find a dick under her skirt, so I politely walked away.  As she attempted to grab my ass a friend with slightly lower standards gently nudged his haunches in the path of her gorilla hands and let her feel his goods.  I watched in horror as he stuck his tongue down her throat and proceeded to lift up her shirt exposing her (prosthetic?) breasts.  This wasn’t a dive bar by the way, it was a high class restaurant on Main Street - the Vatican is presently in debates to determine if it was a miracle he wasn’t promptly removed from the establishment.
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Dear Patron In The Stall Next To Me,
I know you’re there. I can see your penny loafers under the stall.  It’s a shame they don’t go all the way to the floor; oh well.  So I’m here waiting, waiting for you to let loose.  Come on. You know you want to.  That guy who was taking a piss is washing his hands.  He’ll be out the door in less than thirty seconds.  Don’t make me unload first, I’m shy.  It’s an emotional problem, okay?  My father never hugged me, my mother never loved me, my sister died in a terrible tricycle accident.

This is starting to get awkward, I saw your nervous two-step.  Pitter patter pitter patter—this ain’t no tap dance.  Let it out buddy.  I’ve got a meeting to get to, just trying to loosen the burden before I spend twenty minutes talkin’ about our underserved Asian market.

What’d you eat last night, Taco Bell, TGI Fridays?  Yeah, you’re a Bloomin’ Onion kind of guy.  Listen pal, I’ve got an extra large four-dollar coffee, lotta cream, lotta sugar, under my belt and I just smoked my last Camel Light.  You ever stuff a turkey ‘til it busts?
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 The following is a B-Sides collection of historical quotes, compiled by the Brother of Heart.

“I wish I were born Asian.” – Malcolm X

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In case you haven’t seen this ridiculousness already, I just wanted to share the sheer idiocy of the Human Tetris craze that is currently sweeping Japan like reefer madness.  (While you’re watching this video, just keep reminding yourself that the Japanese score fifty times better than us on educational tests, their economy is flourishing while ours is floundering, all of their cars are cooler than ours, and we play all of their super cool video games… Also, Jesus likes them more than us, and they shit world peace).

Just to give you a brief rundown of what you’re about to watch, apparently Human Tetris is a game that’s hosted by a businessman and a milkmaid who have convinced a group of idiots to swathe themselves entirely in aluminum foil.  Then, a wall opens up, and giant sheets of Styrofoam move on a conveyor belt toward the aluminum-garbed retards.  Now here’s the fun part, on the Styrofoam sheets are cutouts of various, ridiculous shapes that the aluminum people must try to morph their bodies into.  If they can’t get their body to make the right shape, they’re pushed into what I can only assume is a pool of urine.

Take a gander:

(Continued after the jump)
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Dear Garden Party,

I heard that you guys are offering $250 for an outrageous “Hollywood” story, is that true?  If so, I’ve got one that’s really going to top the charts…

I moved to Hollywood from Ohio about three months after graduating high school.  I was the wide receiver on our High School’s football team (we were first in our division three years in a row, some may say thanks in part to a couple plays I made).  I was on top of the world - great friends, supportive parents, a job opportunity at Wellis & Jacobs Real Estate and last but not least my beautiful girlfriend Cindy.  I dropped them all because a stranger once told me I looked like a young Harrison Ford.

My High School Graduation Pic

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The following is a paid advertisement from the Ad Council, starring Rando Rando Savage, Rando Calrissian, and a non-TR contributor. See if you can guess who is who!

The original (almost as funny but unintentionally so) ad, after the jump.
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Hey it’s me, Dean Cain, remember me? The adventures of Lois & Clark?  From the 90s? I was Superman!  Anyways I wanna start off by saying that I’m definitely NOT jealous of Mario Lopez.  I just don’t really know where he gets off stealing my niche.  That’s right, MY niche. I may not know how it’s pronounced but I know what it means: a position particularly well suited to the person who occupies it.  And MY niche is “hunky Latin-ish not especially good but passable television actor/personality”.
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Shit, piss, cocksucker,
My mother is a mother fucker.

My Mother Fucking Mother

Labia, labia, get a scabia,
On the planet of tit fucking mania.
Penis in, and penis out
Tell Ben Franklin not to tout that Gout.
Asshole lickers, fruit pickers
Smother my car with bumper stickers.
Obama for President, Obama for Resident
Like black Jesus, Obama’s Heaven-sent!
Got no reasons, got no rhymes,
I’m too busy boning bitches in their hymens.

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SILVER LAKE, CA—Dozens of hipsters gathered at the Silver Lake Reservoir today to protest what they call the “disturbing trend” of gentrification in the areas of Los Feliz, Silverlake and Echo Park, also known as the “emo-fecta” region of Los Angeles.

Despite the 100-degree heat, these concerned citizens marched around the Reservoir in a uniform of skin tight black jeans, checkered Vans and ironic t-shirts for a full 10 minutes.  Sporting an asymmetrical haircut, lead organizer F.X. Randall voiced his concerns over rising rents in the area.  “Before, I could survive on what I was making just jammin’ out with my music,” he said.  “But now I have to put my time in, working for ‘the man’ at Coffee Bean.  I work, like, almost twenty hours a week!  In addition to my music!  And I’m still barely able to make ends meet.”  When Diego Juarez, his landlord, was questioned about Randall’s ability to pay rent, Mr. Juarez rolled his eyes and explained that he receives a wire transfer from Randall’s father’s checking account every month.

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