Totes Rando

The initial reason why I queued this film up in my Netflix account was to improve my performance in bed. Three minutes after I pull into the barrel and I’m drenched with sweat and throwing up. So I thought to myself, “Surfers look like they could pound ass till dawn patrol. Maybe if I’m more like them, I won’t have to lock myself in the bathroom and cry while my girlfriend threatens to call my parents.”

When the film arrived I got changed into my workout clothes and drank a glass of water. It began with a nice little warm up session to loosen my muscles and get the blood flowing. I adapted this part to fit my own personal physiology by opening a bottle of wine and packing a lip. Scott (the Narrator and Instructor) suggested that I run through his warm up before any surfing session, which was easily translated to meet my own personal agenda. (personal note: baby, if you’re reading this, the next time you see me do side-lunges you might want to brush your teeth and change into some clean panties)

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A few months ago I was blessed to be present at an invitation-only screening of MXP: Most Xtreme Primate, the magnum opus of virtuoso director/producer Robert Vince (Air Bud, Air Bud: Golden Receiver, Air Bud: Seventh Inning Fetch). Now, you’re probably saying to yourself, “Bobby Vince? Working with chimps? Pretty sure he’s a dog man.” Rest assured, gang. The $80,000 that I dumped into film school taught me many valuable secrets of the industry, but perhaps none more valuable than this one: when you “break in”, you start with dogs. Then, you graduate to chimps. If you can prove yourself worthy, you get promoted to humans. You’re welcome for saving you 80 large.
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I’m in a Trader Joe’s (a place white people shop for groceries) the other day (typically when I do things that later I will tell stories about) with a friend, who we’ll call Hitler, and we’re standing in line waiting to check out. The line is long, in fact, all of the lines are long, the place is packed and checking out is taking forever. I’m like “Hey Hitler, how about this line, huh?” Hitler’s like “yeah, tell me about it.” Hitler and I have shitty conversation almost all the time. So I’m like “fuck, I don’t even want to talk to Hitler anymore. I guess I’ll just look around.” So, I’m looking around when suddenly something catches my eye.

Wait a second. Did I just see what I think I saw?

I look again.

Jackpot!

I saw boobs.
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To my neighbor,

In response to your long and detailed letter, I have decided to respond in like terms. We are both adults and should be able to settle any incongruities in our living arrangement with words, not angry letters. Let’s be friends.

Let me first address the claim that we “stay up until all hours of the night playing loud music and smoking cigarettes and drinking and partying…” These are not parties. Parties involve professional DJs and ice luges. Me and fifteen of my closest friends drinking Busch Light and listening to Kanye West does not count as a party, okay? Let’s be civil here. It’s just a hang out.
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Just wondering.

I’m sorry, did John McCain just say something about “Baruch Obama”? He’s a JEW terrorist now!

But wait! There’s more!

“I hope you win enough money to pay for all that PTSD therapy, son! Now watch this drive.”

AA doesn’t work!

Some people might not appreciate that sentiment, but guess what? I’ve been going to AA meetings for a while now, and I still drink all the fucking time, so I think I’m being pretty fair about things.

My first AA meeting, they started by reading the ideas behind AA, then someone got up and talked about problems alcohol caused him, then it opened up to just kinda general discussion about alcohol. Then they said a prayer and everyone left. Guess what? I left that meeting and got fucking shitfaced! Unbelievable.

At meetings they also ask if there are any new-comers. At the first meeting I didn’t say anything, and just sat in the back. But later I thought maybe because I didn’t do it right is why I drank after the first meeting. So THIS time, when they asked if there were any newcomers, I got up and said I was. They gave me a hug to welcome me, and gave me a “chip”. Then after the meeting a few people walked up to me, and one of them gave me a used copy of what they call the “big book” with all the rules to quit drinking in it.

One of these people was this guy Jim, and Jim offered to be my sponsor to help me stop drinking. He seemed pretty cool, so I was like “yeah, sure, thank you” and we went and got a cup of coffee and he told me all about his life. It turned out he was a pretty great swimmer, and even went to the Olympics, but then later in life he drank too much and went to jail for awhile and now he’s trying to just see his kids, but his ex-wife won’t let him. He gave me a lot of advice about sobriety. After coffee with Jim I stopped at a bar and drank like seven shots of whiskey. The bartender wouldn’t even serve me after awhile, because I was being really loud and getting pretty aggressive with this one waitress. Way to go Jim! You fucking moron.
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Friends, it should be no secret to any of you that this great country of ours is heading towards difficult financial times. Much like yourselves, I have been playing the denial game for far too long, pretending that my personal deficit was due to extremely irresponsible spending and heavy drinking. How could we all have been so blind?

The first beacon of impending doom had to have been hearing the news that, due to rising food costs, some McDonalds’ are changing their Dollar Menus to “Dollar Menu & More!” Am I concerned because I won’t be able to afford the “More!”? Hell no! I’ve GOTS money, plebeian. I can even afford ordering an entire value meal from time to time. But I was hoping that McDonald’s, ever the changing symbol to look toward when a country is either on the upswing or in decline, would have been a little more direct with its customers. Instead of saying, “Hey sorry bros, we can no longer afford to charge you next to nothing for this shit-meat between shit-buns,” they should have said, “Hey hungerfucks, you’re even poorer now! What can we sell you that even YOU can afford?”

So, as the way things would have been in an alternate-but-equally-depressing universe, I present to you the McDonald’s 25 Cent Menu. I’m No Longer Emotionally Capable of Lovin’ It!
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When I was growing up, I always thought Mick Jagger (and thus also the Rolling Stones) and David Bowie were weird, cheesy, and sorta gay. David Bowie did all that sexually androgynous looking stuff (and Labyrinth), and I just didn’t get his song and voice style, or should I say wasn’t really exposed it. Mick Jagger on the other hand had less reason to make the young me not like him. I think unconsciously I accepted the awesome Stones jams I heard on Oldies 103 without putting a band name to it really. But then something happened that tattooed the brand name of the Rolling Stones on my mind forever. 7th grade: My middle school had a lip sync contest and this fat annoying looking girl did “You Start Me Up”, prancing around the stage like a jackass, wearing a Stones T-shirt with the lips and tongue logo. From then on, every time I saw Mick Jagger singing and doing his dance moves all I could think was, “I hate these guys”.

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Sexual Predators are everywhere. The only way to protect yourself and those close to you is to stay informed. Now, unfortunately the news media has left stories of sexual predators largely unreported. In fact, studies with fancy charts have shown that while the number of sexual predators has increased 500ish%, coverage devoted to sexual predators is at an all time low. Is it possible that media has something to gain by ignoring this story? Is it possible that child molesters have infiltrated the media?

Probably not. Regardless, it’s clear that we can longer rely on traditional media to protect us from this silent fondler. Which is why, this week, Totes Rando will make it our mission to inform you about the dangerous Sexual Predators who may or may not be lurking around every corner.
First off–
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