I have a bit of a situation here.

A friend sent me a text with a video attached of a woman's ass shaking to the beat of a rap song, moving each cheek to each beat.  Then the person turns around to reveal a young white kid who says "Oh, you're gay as hell!"

I responded with what I thought was "Looks like Bieber is having fun in jail."  Because the kid looked just like Justin Bieber.  Not my funniest joke, but whatever.

But what autocorrect sent was "Looks like BELIEVER is having fun in jail."

A number I didn't recognize called, but because I was expecting a call from the rental car place, I picked it up.

An angry Black man was on the other line.

Him: "You call me?"

Me: "Uh, no."

Him: "Well someone texted from this number."

Me: "Maybe I responded to a group text or something?"

Him: "Uh huh.  Yeah, right."

And he hung up.

Then I got two calls from another random number.  I didn't answer.

You see, this friend of mine texted that video to tons of people, and my response went back to all of them, and it seems that on some of their phones, my response came unconnected to the video text.  So these Black fellas are wondering who in the hell I'm talking about that is in prison.

I responded to JUST the sender and said "I mean Bieber" but it's already too late.

Damn you autocorrect and phones that don't group responses of texts together, or whatever.  And damn you Justin Bieber.  Why do YOU get a pet monkey and I just got angry Black guys all over Chicago that want to kill me.

This Has To Be One of My Best Accidental Texts Ever

So, this text just went out to Mrs. Noisewater:

"Have I told you lately how proud vCard am of you?"

As you may know, a V-Card is something you cash in when you lose your virginity, but it had nothing to do with what I was trying to text her tonight.  Truth be told, I just got my first smart phone after years of whipping open my flip phone like Captain Kirk all these years.  And I'm not to accurate with it, as you may see.

Still, did protective text really try to sneak a V-Card into this conversation?  That is unbelievable.  

Mrs. Noisewater's response?

"No.  You've never told me how proud you are of my V-Card."

My girlfriend and I finally made it through the two years of a long-distance relationship while she was in graduate school.  I picked her up the other night from the airport, and we moved her stuff into my crummy apartment that is now our crummy apartment.

This morning I woke up and thought of something funny to text her, and while reaching to my right to grab my phone, I saw that she was right there to my left - next to me in bed.  Forever.

I pulled her in close, she scooted her behind in close to me, and we went back to sleep in each other's arms.  

I forgot what I wanted to tell her.  I'm sure it wasn't important.  

Hooray! A New Gross Phrase . . .

My good friend, Big Business, and I just came up with a new fun phrase for the Urban Dictionary.  Big Business works terrible, terrible hours and raises his brother's two daughters, so I like to text back and forth with him a few times a day to make him laugh and keep him doing what he's doing.  I guess he does the same for me, come to think of it . . .

In any event, here it is:

1. The Pert (Plus) Spirt:
(n) When you squeeze the shampoo bottle right at climax to stimulate a monster load.

I damn near emptied the whole shampoo bottle with this morning's Pert Squirt! 
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Something wrong about using this pic, but whatever.  It's all wrong around here.

*It turns out there is already an urban dictionary definition for a pert squirt but it's stupid and doesn't make much sense.  All future additions should be approved by Big Business and the good Doctor . . . 

Hit Me Up!

I haven't posted in a while, but here is the thing, I usually wait until I get at least one comment before going to the next one.  Eventually, I had to face the facts that no one cared to comment on Kerry King in Japan or platonic man love.  Now, you would think that would deter me from the topics that yielded zero results, but along comes another man-love post.  Just read the parenthesis if you care to know what in the heck we are talking about in these texts:

Doctor Ken: I am thumping you 16 to 7. (That is a fantasy football score.  I am so rarely winning so thought I would live it up until Sunday).  How is the in-law Thanksgiving?  Buffalo dip? (His wife makes this unbelievable buffalo dip and when she brings it, the container is practically licked clean and nothing else is even close to being done).

HLP: Just got under way: Forgot to make the dip.  How was Thanksgiving/Roadhouse? (I was texting him on Thanksgiving how I was flipping between football and Roadhouse and how I never felt like such a man)

Doctor Ken: That was going swimmingly until my dad demanded football only.  And right before the throat rip! (In "Roadhouse," Swayze, portraying a bad ass bouncer,  rips out the throat of an unruly bar patron.)

Doctor Ken (again): "Who is Mike Jones!"  That just came on.  Great disc.  So many vodka Redbulls back then, like we were subject of some diabolical science experiment. (Back when we were roommates we would listen to a lot of Built To Spill before going out.  There was one disc by this brilliant Idaho band that we got an early leak of where to keep it from being a full on bootleg before the release, the bootleggers would throw in some rapper named Mike Jones pipe in with boisterous "Who is Mike Jones?" every few minutes, usually right at an epic part.  This was annoying for the first few listens, but now he and I actually prefer it that way.)

HLP: "Hit me up!  281 . . ."  That vodka Redbull period took years off of my life expectancy.  (Mike Jones would often leave his phone number in his songs for fans to hit him up, as it were, as you can observe below.)



Doctor Ken: Hahaha.  Yes.  Our hearts are even more pissed off than our livers. (This is when people first started ordering drinks with alcohol and energy drinks, and we thought, because they made us feel so good, that we should just drink them all night.  We only figured out later that you should just have one, maybe two, through out the course of the night when you start to get sleepy.  When you knock those back all night, when you come home, your whole body is super tired except for your heart which has serious palpitations all night long). 

That concludes this texting conversation.  Hope you enjoyed it.  Hey, readers, do you have a friend who makes you laugh out loud consistently when you get a text?

The Biz VS The Ken

Here's a text message conversation between myself and my good friend, Big Business, with topics ranging from the Chicago Bulls, cheerleaders, balls, and all kinds of other great stuff.

Dr. Ken: Watching the game online. Lovables r all grenades. They make up for their thunder thighs with their beat faces.

The Lovables are the Bulls cheerleaders.

Big Bizznazz: No. I like chunky chicks a lil' bit.

DK: I suppose I like them the way they r. That is just a little Midwest winter weight. I'd cuddle them all.

BB: Chubby ones tend to pay more attention to ball than skinny ones. Maybe the heavy ones feel like they have to?

BB: Like they sit and listen to their skinny friends say shit about not touching their boyfriend's nuts, and they figure if they do, they can get guys cuz skinny chicks aren't paying attention to the balls.



DK: Most attention to balls seems fleeting, just to say they did it, but I really like the ones out there who love a good bean bag.

BB: Oh yeah. The ones that treat it's a waffle cone and ice cream is dripping out of it.

BB: Like they move the wang out of the way just to get to the balls. Now, that's dedication to the balls.

DK: Haha! These girls got a lot of ass in those shorts. Like you can pull the shorts down slow and booty pops out of there like a magician's flowers.

BB: They're chunky, indeed. Like you can hear the shorts come off.

DK: Big Sexy used to pork 2 in the showers nightly. Both Bulls bigs had 15 or 16 boards.

Kurt "Big Sexy" Thomas played for the Bulls last season (seen below).

BB: Yeah. Double doubles are in recognition of the cheerleaders' behinds.

DK: Haha! In remembrance of Big Sexy's postgame shower ritual.

DK: He has Old Spice ejaculate.

BB: Big Sexy definitely ejaculates solid deodorant sticks.

This last part of the convo gets a little weird, but I know I laughed my ass off.