Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Beethra VS Rigidzilla: The First Encounter

Featuring Destoroyahjimjo, Mahagodzilla and many others...

I had a very interesting weekend. My neighbors were throwing a wedding and Friday when I pulled into the driveway there was a huge white tarp just in front of the dumpster area. They're fairly well concealed, but I can't imagine sitting my guests down in front of the dumpsters the rose scented flowers mingling with the sent of rotting food. Not very appetizing, but to each his own.

Hollywood ran out of his apartment with Rigid in tow as I walked up to my door. We all ended up checking out Hollywood's new windows and talked about when the FUCK we'd be getting them next. We gossiped about the neighbors...well, mainly they gossiped. It was funny, as I stood there watching them I felt like I was in an episode of Desperate Housewives: The Ghetto Chronicles.

Still we knew what we would all be in for the next day. Screaming children, people everywhere, music blaring and someones fucking Aunt singing really bad Karaoki. Perhaps we'll get to hear about all the wonderful presents the bride will get. Last time I heard someones Aunt announce each and every single lovely mother fucking gift....one....by....ONE. I wanted to fucking kill that bitch. I wanted so badly to hurl a frag in her direction. Plans were made to leave for the day.

We went out for lunch and even though I didn't really expect to be out all day long I prepared to be out walking all day long. Good thing I did because that's exactly what we did. They had me try on so many shoes that I actually started to break a sweat. We also eventually made our way to yet another jewelry store. That's where I found a message from an unknown number.

"949? What the fuck? Who do we know in the 949 area code dude?" I said to Rigid.

"949? What? I don't know. Sounds like Orange County or Laguna Hills probably."

"How in the FUCK would you know that Dude? Seriously. HOW?" still staring at the number on my phone I began to check the voicemail. Rigid's check was almost touching mine as he stared at my phone in wonderment transfixed the by magic of phone dialing.

"Dude, back the fuck off man! Your fucking crowding me. Anus." I immediately recognized that raspy voice. The voice of a man who's probably smoked one too many cigarettes or...like, crack or sumfin'. "It's Dirty! Dude...I can barely hear him. Something about a BBQ?"

"Ah, cool call him back."

I dialed the number, but another call came in. It was the DirtyeffinJimjo inviting us over to his palatial estate up over yonder in them there hills where they have running spring water, horse trails, super premium cat food and your very own cell phone tower in your back yard that people pay YOU for allowing them the privilege of keeping it there. We made plans to take the 42 mile drive up to his gaming palace. Actually Rigid made plans for us. I gave up trying to understand Jimjo. I kept switching from ear to ear in the desperate hope I'd be able to make out what he was trying to say, but my the cell phone cutting out every 10 words and the ADD cutting out every other 5, the blaring noice in my left ear was deafening and the my right ear feels clogged so he ended up having to repeat himself a lot and then I wasn't sure when to interject. Simply put, I may as well start learning sign language.

I felt a little awkward actually. That usually never happens to me. I mean okay, I might not find it all that easy to fart in front of someone, but I don't think I would freak the fuck out you know? It's Rigid's farts that freak me out. Mine smell like roses remember? Well, I let the awkwardness fade away with the phone call. After all, I'm pretty sure he's heard me bitch about my ear problem before and fuck it.

We ended up staying out so late with our neighbors that it was actually dinnertime by the time we left so of course I had to get the genius idea to eat at Claimjumpers. Rigid would finally have the chance to prove that he could shove the Motherload chocolate cake width wise into his mouth all at once. You should have seen his face when we showed him the cake. I mean, you have no idea how many times we've tried to explain that it's not a small 7 layer cake. It's MASSIVE and what he was proposing was impossible. He refused to accept it and I finally challenged him. The fucking retarded mongoloid bastard STILL refuses to accept defeat. He won't even recant!

Damn him! Still, we had a lovely evening. After dinner it was drinks and movies at Hollywood's. We couldn't even hear the wedding with the new windows and since they had a DJ all of the announcements were made by him and not that stupid lady that always hogs the mic.

The next day we headed over the Jimjo's up over yonder in them there hills way over there, but first I made Rigid wash the Dodge. (I bet your wondering why this is titled Beethra VS Rigidzilla aren't you? You'll have to wait like everyone else you fucker. Dirty's laughing 'cause he knows the story." Getting Rigid to do anything he doesn't want to do is like getting me to do something I don't want to do. It ain't gonna happen without a fight. I'm better at it because I have excellent reasoning skills. Rigid pretty much loses every time. Poor thing doesn't have a chance against me. So he mumbled and grumbled and washed the car down after I hosed it. Rigid now, we can't afford to spend money on car washes. I figure anything we can do ourselves will be done...usually by Rigid. The Mighty Maharet has spoken.

The drive wasn't actually as long as I thought it would be and it was so easy finding his place. Rigid and I argued about his lack of singing ability half the way up there . Try as I might I can NOT get this guy to understand the concept of tone. Still, this time around we actually managed not to "fight" unlike the last time he took me to meet his xbox live pals in Newport Beach. We've become quite the social butterflies latley. I'm not sure how I feel about this.

Have you ever had that funny feeling in the pit of your slimy gut when you're about to meet someone new? Yeah, I don't really get that anymore. Apparently neither does Jimjo. I don't think Rigid's has even so much as a vague concept of that either. We all happened to pull up to Jimjo's house at the same time. Jim jabbering away on his cell phone much like the rock star that he is, me fixing my shoe and Rigid waiting patiently for Jim to finish his call.

Before you knew it we were escorted to his private suite, shown countless Youtube video's of he and his friends crazy antics, given a tour of his place and got a first hand look at what goes into the making of a Gamerclip.

Maha's not finished yet...tomorrow: Bethra VS Rigidzilla: (title pending)

no time for spell check! lmao!

TUNA TIP: If you don't have a gamerclip you should get one. Not just to lend moral support one of our great pals on GTP but simply because it's a product that is plain old easy to assemble, simple to use and incredibly sturdy. Back in 2004 a shit load of us bitched about not having a way to walk away from our console without having to leave our controller and head set behind.

As soon as we went wireless we bitched about not having a way to hold the controller to our belts as we washed the dishes or took a nice happy shit. Well, bitch no more my friends. The gamerclip has arrived. Hand made, hand painted and handy as all living fuck made for gamers by gamers with love.

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