Do Do Fun Coffee? Dick Shoes? Distractions to my western eyes.

Spanky, I believe your claim that Bich Nga exists. Your post inspired me to share a couple photos I took while I was in Changsha (Hunan Province), China in 2001. Coffee or shoes, anyone?


Yes, I prefer my Do Do to be fun.


I didn’t go into the above store. I was a bit apprehensive that I wouldn’t know how to make proper use of the products they sold.

Stooge’s Worst Day Ever

This being my first Soupy post, I’ll share an email I recently wrote to a friend.


Man I had the worst fucking day ever. I woke up and started sneezing up a storm in the bathroom. I have really bad allergies so this is not uncommon for me, but we’re talkin like 20 back-to-back sneezes. Pretty crazy. So after I finished the hurricane of sneezes I found that I was having trouble breathing. This also is not uncommon for me seeing as I have asthma. Anyway, I reached for ye ole inhaler and took a couple of hits. To my surprise, the inhaler did not help. This is very uncommon. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. Within a matter of seconds it got to the point where I was struggling to even get a small gasp of air. I was having an acute attack. It was the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced (except for seeing Spanky’s slime tonker once, but that’s a different story). Needless to say, I started panicking, which only made things worse. With my last bit of strength I called 911 and wheezed out what was happening. The paramedics came pretty quickly.

They tried to calm me down and gave me some type of vaporizer thing, which didn’t really do much. Then they put me in a weird orange chair that looked like it belonged on GUTS. I sat in that monstrosity and they strapped me in and carried me down the stairs. Now I’m being hauled down the stairs by 3 fat ass paramedics with their cracks showing like plumbers while I am gasping for air. Not cool. So I’m thinking, “Calm down Stooge, they’re here, it’s not going to get any worse.” Boy was I wrong. Three super hot babes from next door that I had been macking on the previous night just happened to be outside at the time to see me in my goon-like state. Looks like my chances with them are over…but that was the least of my worries. Now I’m lying on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance that is probably going to cost me more than taking an hour long ride in a pink limo with three naked hookers. The five min ride felt like 2 hrs. When I finally got to the hospital, i looked to my left and saw a Shug Knight looking character in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit being escorted into the ER. “At least I’m in good company,” I thought.

Then the wheeled me in and gave me more of the vaporizer thingie. My ER bed had another one just like it directly to the left with a cloth partition separating us. While the cloth provides a great visual barrier, it does next to nothing for blocking out sound. As i puffed on my vaporizer, I began to feel better. My breaths were getting deeper and I was calming down. The relief was short lived, however, when I began to hear what was going on past the green divider cloth. Here’s a tasty sample:

Old woman: OOWWWW . WWAAHH

Young attractive nurse: I know it’s cold but it shouldn’t hurt. It’s just soapy water. I really need to clean your vagina.

Old woman: OOOWWWWW

Young attractive nurse: ::silence::

Old woman: ::silence::

Young attractive nurse: Lift your knees.

Me: gross

So I just sat there for about an hour and inhaled that shit. I was feeling better and actually getting a little bored. Then I heard the old lady’s husband talking to the doctor:

Old dude: Yeah she’s starting to be a lot to deal with.

Foreign Doc Probably from India: Is she incontinent.

Old dude: No

Foreign Doc Probably from India: What is the problem?

Old Dude: She doesn’t know when she is, you know, going to the bathroom.

Foreign Doc Probably from India: So she is incontinent.

Old Dude: No, she makes it to the bathroom, sits down, goes, but she doesn’t realize that she has “went” so she just sits there all night waiting for it to happen

::Old woman enters on a stretcher::

Foreign Doc Probably from India: ::to old woman:: what is today date?

Old woman: ::mumbles inaudibly::

Foreign Doc Probably from India: Who is the president of the United States?

Old woman: ::inaudible::

Foreign Doc Probably from India: What city are we in?

Old Woman: IOWA CITY!!!

Old dude: ::to doc:: she is a handful. It’s a full time job cleaning up her feces.

Me: gross

Then I noticed a giant clear shield mounted on the wall ominously. I asked the nurse what it was for.

Me: What’s that shield for?

Mildly attractive nurse: sometimes we have people here who are really drunk…well actually we often have people here who are really drunk but sometimes they throw things.

Me: Gotta keep them in line. Show em who’s boss.

Mildly attractive nurse: yeah ::fake smiles, turns, and leaves (showing her disproportionately huge ass)::

Me: gross

I puffed for about fifteen more minutes and they gave me some pills and let me go. I walked into the waiting room to check out and realized that I didn’t have any shoes, my hair looked like ace Ventura, and I had a HUGE hole in the crotch of my jeans. The hole would not have been a big deal had I been wearing any undies. I walked into the room maneuvering my charlie browns so they faced away from all of the jokers in the chairs.

Then I signed a few papers, and they let me loose on Iowa City, barefoot and confused. I called my roommate Slime and he picked me up.

Me: thanks

Slime: What happened?

Me: I had an asthma attack. It was the worse day ever….blah…blah…blah

Slime: So that firetruck was for you? I was sleeping at the time and thought about going on the balcony to see what was going on.

Me: gross

Your Pal,


Define Fine

I was told a story tonight that I find pretty funny. The story lasted for about 30 seconds and I laughed for probably just as long. This brings the level of content to laughter to about half as much as the movie Friday… simple math.

The story involves a waitress that looks like a carp and sounds like a dying animal, and her exchange with a table one evening.

Carp: “How is everyone doing tonight?”
Table: “We are doing alright. And yourself?”
Carp: “I’m fine.”
Table: “Don’t you think you ought to go look in a mirror then come back and answer that again?”

Carp to Coworker: “I’m not sure if they were kidding… that was mean… I know I am no beauty queen, but I’m not that bad.”

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Spandex. A Priviledge, not a right.

There is a time of year this year where in the state I live, there are fairs during the month of October. These fairs bring out the most evil and odd varieties of rednecks there are to be seen. My case in point… if I had a picture, it’d be so much better, but I did not want to destroy a brand new digital camera.

Some, grotesque freak of nature, part Jabba the Hutt, part Sta-Puff marshmallow man. arge Marge, 300 pounds of backwoods, “Deliverance”-type man-beast, woman-kind. Spandex… god, that just give me frightening chills like I just watched the Faces of Death series for the first time.

She has “frontal-ass.” When you think some force of nature had taken the ass and just wound it aorund to the front. To top it off, it had a moose knuckle, but it looked like a wedgie/granny panty line. In spandex nonetheless.

Someone once said to me, “Spandex is a priviledge, not a right.” How fucking true this is. Of all the fair food I ate. Fries, Italian Sausage, ice cream, pork sandwiches… it all came back almost to haunt me.

Ladies… if you’re a tad on the large side and you have spandex or tight fitting clothing that accentuates that blob hanging off your midsection like a turtlehead poking out of your ass… burn it, throw it away, give it away, just do not wear it. Save the general public the horror show and get rid of the shit.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to slice my skull open and clean it out with a steel brush and some kerosene.

Splendor in the Ass

As I was explaining to Pumpkin the other night, when I saw that ‘mudbutt’ category, I had to explain my mudbutt story. So to take it short, I’ll post the Cliff Notes version.

In a restaurant, ready to leave one night, the waitresses wear these 50′s waitress uniforms that look like candy striper uni’s. Sort skirt right below the asscheek line, one waitress is reaching over the counter, when I go back to my table to get my car keys, her bulletproof granny-sized underwear is exposed with the worst case of mudbutt/skidmark ass I have ever seen in my life.

Now, considering it was “that time of the month”, a) because of the granny underwear, and b) because of the red blotches that were mixed in that made the ass crack of her underwear look like either a Jackson Pollack painting or a Leroy Neiman signature painting… I nearly lost what I had consumed at this fine establishment.

This is forever burned into my memory… like a bitter break-up, it has scarred me for quite some time. My therapist says soon, it will be a distant memory, but that red/bown paintball splatter haunts me. I need some tequila.

Sub Shop Cup Etiquette

How many times do you go into a deli or sandwich shop, order a sandwich and a drink, then have to remind the register jockey to hand you the cup you just paid for? I just had this happen at a Jimmy Johns and it really does happen to me quite frequently at this and other establishments. Subway over the last few years has developed a better system in most of their locations. They have a cup dispenser at the end of the counter that you can grab yourself. In those particular restaurants ou even have the luxury of filling up while the food is being prepped if the conditions are ideal.

The cashier neglecting to give you your cup leaves you in an ackward spot where you have to step up and ultimately feel like a douche for asking.

“e hem e hem, excuse me, sir, um may I have the um cup for my soda please? You can make it a small if you like, it’s all ok. You know what, never mind, I didn’t really need it anyway.”


You can do the other route. “Listen Bro…Can I get that cup I just paid for? Let’s be serious. Did you really already forget?”

Maybe I am the only that knows what I am talking about on this one?

Taking the Show On the Road

The Pumpkin has been buried thigh deep in work and has regretfully been absent from the wonderful world of the trumpet. But now he’s back. [end third person references]

Last week I managed to go to St. Louis on Saturday and Atlanta on Sunday. The first of the two trips was a driving adventure that’s brightest moment came when I tore down a Lion’s Choice combo meal prior to the baseball game. I went to the baseball game for one reason, and that was to see Barry Bonds play. Leading up to this game I took a ton of heat for believing the guy and the more I think about it, the more I realize that these irrate people are conditional speculators. Therefore I am not likely to discuss this any further until the truf comes out. (not a typo, that’s just how Method Man says to treat the “th”) Furthermore there was a debate, or people lecturing at me, via email leading up to it. I have to give old “5head Tagoooch” props for starting the dialogue, he meant well. I was surrounded by 1000′s of one kind of person all booing together as one each time Barry Ballgame stepped to the plate. The flipside was standing ovations for former players and the guy that fixed the sign in centerfield. Needless to say, those people have a good grasp on reality…….YUCK. If you want further details on how weak the tea was in that park, just let me know.

The food situation can be summed up with 4 nuggets.
1) Lion’s Choice was cash and was enough
2) I couldn’t locate the meatball subs
3) I made no food purchases at the park (a first, but NO regrets)
4) I saw a guy with cheetos sprinkled on a nachos grande

The next day however was far more amazing on all levels. First my husky counterpart made us late to the point where the plane was held up waiting on us as we ran through the airport. We asked people to cut in line, most ignored us, and the people in their 20′s hooked us up. The most notable was an older woman that looked at us as if we were homeless people asking for money and then looked dead ahead as if that would just make us go away. We’ve all done it, as we mumble “sorry, no money… all have is credit… mumble.” She pulled that on us as we had 3 minutes to make a plane and old gravy leg had another hour or more.

The airline proudly serves Dasani. That’s pretty much the only highlight of the plane rides other than the guy hitting his baby’s head on the ceiling and apologizing to it like he bumped into a stranger in a busy crowded elevator. The airport was cash. I did ran into someone in the Atlanta airport that lived directly behind the mothership for years. That’s odd, but not as odd as watching three elderly people fall down as the transport train took off and getting scoffed at by one of them as I handed them their dropped luggage. Needless to say, at risk of sounding like a jerk, once they got off we (and another) busted out laughing. Another train ride involved the svelt guy with me falling into the conducter’s room as the train took off and he crashed through the door all husky-like.

The football game was beyond amazing and the food was cash as well. I did hit a snag though. There is a secret spot that I have been going to for years to talk to the players before the game and this year there was a little heightened security and was denied. The persons doing the denying were probably there on some kind of “give back to the community program” that helps people with less than average smarts. No exaggeration there, if anything it is being understated politely. The lady told me the reason for the rejection was because of “9/11.” I asked her if she meant “as in Monday? Or as in 5 years ago?” I’m guessing as in Monday because for virtually those 5 years since 9/11 I have been in that same spot prior to most of the games I have ventured to. I kind of laughed it off and made my connections instead inside the dome.

Food summary for me
1) Beef Brisket Samich w/chips
2) Fries
3) Post Game Buffalo Shrimp w/fries
4) Spinzels on the plane

Food summary for huskatron
1) All the above
2) Some of my fries
3) Some of my other fries and shrimp
4) An additional nachos grande
5) Additonal crackers on the first flight

TOOL show–Minneapolis.

Taguchi and I drove up to see TOOL last night in Minneapolis. We ignored the evangelicals standing outside the Target Center singing for the redemption of our oh-so-Satanic souls.

ISIS, who opened, is basically Diet Tool. They have some airy, drony, odd-time songs that mostly put Taguchi to sleep (who was very tired). I don’t think he was bored by them–more than likely, they served as little lullabies for the tuckered-out fella to regroup for Tool. On the whole, ISIS is solid, but they seem to lack some punch somewhere.
Tool rocked, as expected. Maynard seemed to have an off-night, for the reason that he stopped singing in a couple of the early songs. He might have been ill a few nights before. Who knows? But Maynard certainly deserves some liberties. Adam Jones, Justin Chancellor, and Danny Carey held a musical seminar. One of the highlights involved a fast drum solo in the normally-quiet middle of “Schism.” “Forty-six & two” just rocked. DC tore up the drum solo at the end, but what did you expect?

The light show started out slow, and one wondered whether it was going to get going at all. Well, it progressively got going, and by the end, it was awesome. The white stage allowed graphics to paint themselves all over it, which was pretty cool. The laser show was nothing novel on the whole, as Pink Floyd had done all that for years. But novelty is not the issue here, Dude. Everyone was transfixed by the spectacle.

Maynard showed his usual dry sense of humor, taunting that “Kansas was louder” during the band’s onstage break–which prompted Minneapolis to deliver a proper retort. The Taguchinator and I were in agreement that it was one of the loudest crowds of which we had ever been part. They hit their crescendo during “Aenima,” singing their balls off to the whole song, basically.

As usual, Tool didn’t move around much. When your music is that complex, your musicianship alone is enough to rock big time. Maynard danced a little and did some strip-teases, but he sure as hell doesn’t need to run around like this douchebag.

We were on the road forever this weekend. So–TOOL–please come to Iowa. We’ll bring some friends. We promise. Love, Spanky “Not Worthy” McGee.

Storm on the horizon…

Weeeeeell, we’ve got the biggest party in the state of Iowa taking place this weekend. I’m only going for the beer and the food (which food?–you never can tell in IC: perhaps AJ’s or Wig & Pen…it’s called planting the seeds; I’m not going anywhere south of Burlington, so Ranchero is not an option…unless they deliver; there also needs to be a run for a Code Red from my homeboy Terrell at the Border; big-ass-tuggeyleg?). The propaganda will be everywhere…it would make Punkin barf.

Hello? Punkin? Are you there? Punkin…calling Punkin…

Vincent: Did you fall in love? Tell me that…you know, I’ll buy that. GIMME ALL YOU GOT! GIMME ALL YOU GOT!”

Kip (in the background): “Let’s violate his ass right now.”

Re: Lolla

All agreed, except for the fact that Hot Chip should be reclassified as the winner of the “Good but not Good” Award. They were jammin for a minute, then they played Enya. Dunno…British music.

You didn’t miss anything with the Flaming Lips…except when Wayne came out in a bubble.

Other awards:

Best food item: corn on the cobb.

Best getup: Gnarls.

The Band you knew would deliver…and did: Gnarls.

Best hookup: Bret Bassi. How does your hair lay down like that?

Funniest moment (by the largest of margins): Billups and the buttgrabbers (you at your finest, Punkin). I kept telling him not to do it but he was like, “I got this, Bro.” He was right.

Best band I only heard for 3 minutes: Particle.

Finally, the winner of the “Extreme Roller Coaster Ride of the Day” award goes to….well, me. Sunday’s antics were classic, including my best Johnny Depp on the walk to the show (arrr…treasure matey) and my run-in with Big Poppa Pump. Plus, I was rockin-out the “Creed Sucks” t-shirt all day(parlayed into a photo op). In the immortal words of Jesse Hughes, “Let’s hear it for me!”