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"Hi Guys," Bim said to the other TMB editors as he entered the room.
"Hey Bi—-" Started the rest of the guys, but were unable to finish for some reason.
"What?!" asked a suspicious Bim.
After a few minutes of silence, Coco asked "Something you want to tell us Bim?"
"What?"
"Well, there's something different about you," Steel volunteered.
"So what is it? Do I have a booger hanging out or something?"
"You wanna tell us why you have Pau's balls on your forehead?" asked Mordo.
"Also, Pau!" exclaimed Baddie.
"Oh right," said Bim sheepishly. I was hoping you guys wouldn't notice.
"I told you they'd notice," I told Bim.
"Yeah well, they wouldn't have if you weren't such a fat fatty! Fattie!" Bim retorted.
"Who are you calling a Fattie, Mr. I-Smell-Like-Ballsac-After-Showering?" I shot back.
"THAT'S WHAT YOUR MOM SAID MOTHERFUCKER!"
"YOU'RE THE MOTHERFUCKER!!"
"THAT'S WHAT YOUR MOM SAID!"
"Guys CHILL!" interjected Fritz. "You're upsetting Baddie!"
True enough, Baddie was visibly bothered. His eyes were already red, and his bottom lip was quivering.
"There, there Baddie," said Bim as he kneeled to come face to face with Baddie.
"Ba—ba—baddie hates fighting," stuttered Baddie.
I handed Bim a handkerchief which he used to wipe Baddie's tears away.
"Blow your nose Baddie," said Bim gently as he held the hanky to Baddie's nose. "We're sorry Baddie. It's just hard work carrying a naked Pau on my head for the whole day. I got cranky. We won't shout in front of you again." Bim started to scratch his head.
"Don't do that," I cautioned Bim.
"Oh sorry," apologized Bim as he started to get up.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" I howled.
Coco stood up, alarmed. "Why? What's wrong?"
"BIM'S STEPPING ON MY DICK!"
"Holy Crap! I'm sorry Pau!" Bim jumped, flinging my cock towards where Fritz, Coco and Mordo were sitting. Luckily, the three ducked in time, avoiding serious injury by way of cock whippage.
"GET ME BACK MY DICK! WHERE IS IT?! FIND MY DICK!"
"I think it's under the sofa!" said Mike and Ade in unison. They were always to be counted on to keep an eye on my dick. I'm just amazed how they were able to pay attention when they were busy putting on lipstick and fake eyelashes on each other.
"FIND IT PLEASE!"
Right then, Bim accidentally stepped on one of my pubes, which made him lose balance. He started to spin around which caused my penis to follow suit. I heard shelves being ripped from their places on the wall, the TV exploded, and there was a mess of blood where Mikey's left eye used to be. Right before Bim fell down and made the both of us lose consciousness, I heard Baddie crying again.
========
"Pau wake up!" It was Mordo who was shaking me. I saw Steel and Ade attending to the injuries incurred by Mike, and the rest taking turns comforting Baddie and getting some ice for Bim.
"Sorry dude. Is everyone alright?" I asked Mordo while rubbing my head.
"They will be. Can you tell me what the hell were you guys doing?"
"I'm sorry, it will never happen again."
"Ok, no biggie."
"Actually it was a very big biggie," I said with a wink.
And everybody laughed at my clever joke and they all helped rolling my dick back up.
THE END.
As promised, here's my second video for all of you.
For some reason, everything gets out of sync when streaming from Youtube. For that I'm sorry. I tried editing it to compensate, but no dice.
Anyway, thanks to Midori, Coco and my wife for all the help.
I'm sorry:
I started to approach the Human Resources Officer to hand in my resume, but I stopped in midstride before I got too close to him.
Sensing my apprehension, he approached me and asked if he could help me.
"Um….no. I think I've made a mistake," I stammered.
"What do you mean sir?" he asked while glancing at the resume I held in my hands. "I see you're here about our job opening?"
"I —gotta go. I gotta do something."
"Wait sir, is anything wrong?" said the HR officer as he reached to stop me.
"GAY your hands agay from me!" I blurted out.
The HR officer was taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"
"Look, I don't want any trouble. I know of your kind, and I think you're alright. But I just don't gay that gay. Maybe tomorrow, but not TOGAY!"
The HR officer looked mildly annoyed, but immediately regained his composure. "Sir, I don't know where you are getting your information, but I assure you I am not a homosexual."
"I'm so sorry for this mistake. I don't know what to gay. I hope we can put this behind us. I'll just leave and wish you a nice gay. O-Gay?"
"EXCUSE ME?!"
"Also, all this excitement's gotten me thirsty. Tell me, where can I buy a bottle of GAYtorade?"
"NOW Listen here! I will not—"
I glanced at the TV in the lobby which was tuned into HBO. "Gay, isn't that Tom Cruise?"
"That's it. Get the fuck out of here. GUARD!"
"Is your favorite President GAYbraham Lincoln? Who is your favorite Muppet? Is it Kermit the FAG? Aw come on, don't be like that, let's go to the bar and I'll buy you a couple of queers. Seriously, let's be friends. I'm actually bending over backwards to be nice to you," I said as I was dragged away by the security guards with their huge nightsticks.
=========================
"Sorry sir, but you can't be here," the receptionist told me from behind her desk.
"What?! I have every right to be at this job interview as any other job seeker!" I said indignantly.
The receptionist was getting nervous. "I apologize sir, but I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."
"What the hell for?! Is it because I'm black? It's because I'm black isn't it?"
"No sir, you are not black. In fact, you are most definitely Asia—"
"Are you calling me a liar?!"
"Oh dear. I'm sorry sir, that is not my intent at all. I was merely sugg–"
"That's what I hate about racist people like you. You take one look at the color of a man's skin and you automatically assume he's lying. And black."
"Again, I apologize for this, but I assure it has nothing to do with race. If you look closely, you'd realize that I'm of African descent while you aren't."
"……….."
"……….."
"Then why don't you want me to interview for your job opening?"
"Well sir, it's because you aren't wearing any pants."
"……….."
"……….."
"So a black man can't go to a job interview without his pants?!"
"GUARD!!!!!"
=========================
"Excuse me sir? Are you finished with your application form? I've been asked to collect—NIGGER FULL OF RABBITS! WHY ARE YOU SHITTING ON THE FORM!? AND FOR GOD SAKES, PLEASE REMOVE YOUR PANTS IF YOU'RE GONNA SHIT!
"My pen ran out of ink. By the way, I'm gonna need more paper."
"GUAAAAAAARD!"
=========================
JOB APPLICATION FORM
Q: What's your greatest strength?
I could probably kill you with my thumb. But I won't. Because I'm a team player. Also, I don't pick on fags.
Q: What's your biggest weakness?
Kryptonite
Q: Talk about your greatest achievement here.
I can't go into details because it's classified information. But let me just say that the human race, and dolphins owe their existence to me. You're welcome.
Q: Person to call in case of emergency?
Me
Q: Who do you talk to when you find yourself in a difficult situation?
My fists
Q: If hired, what will you be able to contribute to the company?
Check out this handstand:
HUP!
Yeah, I could do this bitch for hours.
And no, you can't touch me.
=========================
"How's the job search coming honey?" my wife asked me as she entered our pad.
"Oh you know, it's crazy out there!" I said as I played with my XBOX 360.
The day started out just like any morning. I woke up, checked my mail and then I headed off to the shower. It was then that things started to bad.
"Honeyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!" I screamed from the bedroom.
"What?!" my wife poked her head through the doorway to find me holding and staring at my shampoo bottle and my deodorant stick.
"They went too far this time! Too fucking far," I said while shaking my hands at her.
"Who did?"
"Look at this!" I told her, as I handed over my shampoo bottle and my deodorant stick.
"Okay. Why am I holding your shampoo and your deodorant?"
"Don't you see woman?! THEY'RE BOTH EMPTY!"
"So?"
"AT THE SAME TIME!?!?"
*SIGH* "Do you have a point? Because the chicken's burning."
"Fuck the chicken! And no, I'm not talking about what I did last Christmas. I was drunk dammit, drop it! I mean the neighbors emptied my shampoo and used up my deodorant stick! Once again, our neighbors have slapped our faces with the gauntlet of un-awesomeness."
"Pau, for the last time, our neighbors don't have a secret passageway to our place," my wife sighed while picking up most of the sharp objects within my reach and putting them under our bed. "And even if they did, why would they go through the trouble just to use up your shampoo and deodorant stick?
"U-huh, you do have a point. Except for the fact that our neighbors are totally evil! And Korean! And you are always wrong. Being a woman and all."
I brushed past my wife and headed straight for the kitchen, opening cupboards and drawers as my wife vainly tried to reason with me.
"Pau, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Aren't you getting sick of running out of shampoo and deodorant when you least expect it?" By this time I had 5 pieces of eggplant, 3 cans of SPAM, an old T-Shirt I wore yesterday, and a lot of other things that I never cared to learn the names of.
"What? No. You're talking crazy again. Haven't you ever considered the fact that maybe you just have a huge head?" she asked hopefully.
"That's what your mom said. Booyah!"
"Please Pau, whatever it is you're doing, please stop. You scared away the rest of the tenants in our floor, and the Quongs next door are the only neighbors we've got. I need to talk to other people aside from yo—"
"Be quiet woman! I will no longer suffer their insults and torture. We have been nothing but good neighbors to them. Not to mention we dedicated our whole lives to being non-Koreans. But does that encourage them to stop being Korean?! Hell no! This means war!"
"But Pau, you've already declared war on them. Remember when you stuck your CD player up their dog's ass?"
"It would play 'Who Let The Dogs Out?' every time the dog farted," I giggled. My wife continued to reason with me. Then she started begging. Maybe there were tears as she started to pull out her hair in clumps, but I didn't notice. I was too busy mixing together all of the things I collected in my cauldron which I specifically ordered for an occasion such as this. Somewhere in the mixture, I spot my pair of Wizard of Oz ruby red slippers which I thought I lost during the robot wars.
"Pau, I don't know what you're doing. And as always, I don't want to know, but please, in the name of all that's good and Holy, I ask you to—-WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET A WIZARD'S ROBE?! AND HOW WERE YOU ABLE TO CHANGE INTO IT RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES?….AND WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?!"
Ignoring her, I continued mixing my concoction while muttering the age old incantation passed down to me by the wisest of all philosophers:
"You don't want no drama,
No, no drama, no, no, no, no drama."
By the 96th repetition of my mantra, the mixture started to swell and spew smoke. It rose up three feet and swayed from left to right. As it started to shake, my wife started to scream. By the time the mixture reached the ceiling, my wife passed out in the middle of the kitchen floor. Too bad she wasn't able to see my creation spew out what can only be described as a penis. As I stared at the 18-inch monstrosity, I can't help but marvel at how it was exactly a third of the actual size of MY penis.
"GAZE UPON MY CREATION! BEHOLD! A SATAN!" I shouted over the deafening roar which seemed to come out from the Satan's penis. The sound was reaching critical levels and the ground began to shake. For some reason, things began flying around; most of them dangerously close to my face.
The last thing I remember before our flying toaster hit me on the head which caused me to black out was my Satan exploding and our front door flying off its hinges.
EPILOGUE
Thank Lord Satan (the real one, not my culinary concoction), nobody was hurt. My wife and I woke up from our coma 3 days later. And approximately 36 kilometers from our home. We were surprised that the Quongs were uncharacteristically kind and helpful in nursing is back to health.
Apparently, when My Satan exploded, their dog proceeded to eat what was left of it. This prompted a diarrhea attack which made it shit out the CD player I stuck in there. The Quongs assumed that my concoction drove out the evil spirits which were making their dog's ass sing and they credited me as their savior.
We've since made amends and I realized they really had nothing to do with my disappearing shampoo and deodorant stick. Go figure.
Anyway, we're having them for dinner tonight. Guess what I'm serving?
Fig 1. What was left of my SATAN
The other day, on The Man Blog forum, we have been asked to give pointers on how work out. And as is usual, we took a picture of my butt and sent it to that person's grandmother with a letter that says
Dear Mrs. N00b's Grandma,
We're sorry to tell you that you have a growth which we in the medical field like to call an 'ass tumor' growing at the back of your neck.
Sucks to be you,
Dr. Scientist.
Booyah.
Anyway, the other day I realized just how I wanted to be able to tell my wife some interesting stories for a change apart from the usual ones that always seem to start out with:
"Today I learned that our neighbors' car alarm actually works."
or
"Today I learned that the phrase 'over my dead body' is not meant to be taken literally."
or
"Today I learned that crime does not pay."
So I decided to actually be of help to some of the monkeys who hang out at our forum and see if I can whip up a set of tips to ensure a safe, and productive work out regimen.
So I guess the first step is to look for good work out clothes. Seeing as how my wardrobe is made up of clothes mainly used for raping and saving young orphans from orphanage fires which I secretly started so I can rape them afterwards, you can see how this poses as a dilemma for me.
Fig. 1: Rape Clothes
So I approached the situation the way I did with any other problem in life: I went home and punched my driver. Because he's just so fucking stupid. Stupid people should always get punched.
Fig 2. This picture does not contain boobies
Tip #1: Choose a work out activity which you enjoy
I stopped punching Alan just before he loses consciousness because I realized he hasn't finished washing my car yet.
Tip #2: Pace yourself. Don't overdo your workout especially if you're just starting out
Neither the splatter of Alan's blood on our driveway, or the sound of his bones cracking failed to produce a worthy exercise attire for me. So, being the "glass is half full (of awesome)" person I am, I decided not to let this momentary setback affect me.
So I told myself to proceed with this exercise of awesome and move to the next item on the list of things to do which was to kidnap some children from church.
Tip #3: Look for the right exercise equipment
Seeing as how it was a Sunday and the church was filled with kids, it was hard to choose which ones were right for me. Of course, they had to satisfy a short list of criteria:
You have to make sure to adhere to this set of criteria in choosing your kid; otherwise regret, and quite possibly, the cops will be on your back like Donkey Kong on my birthday.
Don't ask.
Unfortunately for me, and very unfortunate for a certain driver, no such kids fit the criteria, so I'm left with no choice but to call it a day playing one of my favorite games "Getting Homeless People To Give You Blood In Exchange for Money." Only instead of money, I use "punches in the neck" as currency.
Tip #4: Mix up your work out. Adding variety in your regimen prevents you from getting bored with working out
It is at this point that I realized just how retarded all of this is. Working out, I mean. You see, I'm kinda hot. So hot, that if I discovered today that I had the power to travel through time, the first thing I would do is to travel back in time to rape myself. And I think I have to travel farther back in time to tell younger me that if he sees older me getting ready to rape me, I must make sure to protest. Because that makes me hot.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, hot. Anyway, considering the level of hotness I possess, working out would just be unfair to other men. So I decided to just give it up and let idea rest. Damn, this pointless waste of my energy really burns me up. Where the hell is Alan?
