Aaaaannnnd…You’re Done 2: The Return.

Dr. Cox [||]

Where do you think you’re going, Priscilla?

So as some of you may or may not know, I have recently joined the ranks of the Laid Off. It’s taken me a few days to filter out some of the Emo to be able to post on this here blog. My MySpace blog–home of the real, real emo stuff–has been rather busy, but I’ve been neglecting my people here.

To give an update for my e-friends, I’m doing quite alright. I’ve been spending time with my friend (practically my brother) Maverick, his fiancee The Dizzle, and their son Patronus. (code names–duh). I filed for unemployment and am waiting on my determination (how much I’ll get), and for the most part trying not to get too depressed. Even tho’ I’m happy overall I still possess the amazing ability to go from “Kanye! Fall Out Boy! Hooters!” to “Someone please put me in cryostasis so I can hide for a hundred years!” in about 14 seconds.

Anyway, I’m back ya’ll, I’m back ya’ll, I’m backety back cuz I’m back ya’ll. Here’s the second installment of my “Aaaaannnnd…You’re Done” series, inspired by the master of pissing people off, Dr. Perry Cox. [||]

And just for the record, “House MD”? Yeah, it’s Scrubs meets Law and Order, because Dr. House is just Dr. Cox with a limp. (Do your homework).


ReyTheHussein’s Class Reunion- So the MySpace page for the Class of 1998 reunion has been put up. I, of course, accepted the friend request for the same reason everyone else did. “I wonder who’s on that page.” I oogled some of the girls, laughed at some of the guys, said “Who the hell is that?” about 23 times, and went back to whatever Mi Espacio ‘sponsitilities I had. Funny thing is, the more I went back to that page to see new people who signed up, the angrier I got. Now, I had a blast in High School. We didn’t go to a thugged out school. We didn’t go to one of those White “TV” High Schools with popular kids and nerds and cliques and junk. Fact is, thru the bands, sports teams, and honors programs, the nerds and jocks and band geeks all kinda got stuck together, so the Caste system never took place. The one thing that irritated the fuck out of me tho’, was how fucking serious the kids in my class took themselves. I know I’m a bit of a square–sheeit, I’m either the coolest dork or the dorkiest cool kid anyone will ever meet–but those fuckers were on some “We totally have cars! We totally have part-time jobs at the mall! We totally drink on the weekends!” shit, and I couldn’t stand it. So now it’s reunion time, and some of those motherfuckers might honestly expect me to shell out $80-something for me to go and hang out with them. Fuck that shit. By the end of my senior year I was hanging out with kids in the grade right below me, or the grade 2 years below me. Ya know why? Cuz they didn’t walk around in slow motion while “I’m in with the in crowd” played. Fuck you, High School Reunion. I didn’t like the majority of you assholes then, and I sure as shit don’t like you guys now. Of course, should I somehow make a ton of money and become famous before then, I’ll totally change my mind. Don’t think I’d turn down scooty from a chick that wouldn’t have given me any 10 years ago. I’m ranting, not stupid.

“Strong Island”- Look, I’m proud of where I come from. I’m from the same area as EPMD, an area where Redman, Craig Mack, Keith Murray, K-Solo all rep. The General Manager of the Los Angeles Lakers graduated from my High School. The program director of Power 105 (NY’s #2 Hip-Hop station) graduated from my High School. I’ll rep the Green’n’White all day long, that’s not the issue. The problem is, My town is on Long Island. “Strong Island” is a corny nickname given to us to try and make it sound as cool as the “Boogie Down Bronx”, “BK/Brook’Nam”, “Money Makin’ Manhattan”, “Harlem World”, “Shaolin”, and “QB” (Queensbridge, yes–but also Queensborough–sidebar, why does 50 Cent pronounce “borough” as “berrow?”–rhymes with “hello”?). Look, we appreciate including us at the grownup table with ya’ll, but “Strong” the fuck “Island”? No thanks. It sounds kinda cool when rappers and DJs say it, but when people have it in their fuckin’ Mi Espacio profiles? Um, No. That’s just silly. We’re the ‘burbs, and it’s really okay. What’s next? “True Jersey”?

Attitudey Bar Chicks- Oh, I’m sorry just-turned-21 year old SnowBunny hanging out with your friends, all wearing dresses or tight jeans or capris (girl capris, not the suspect B-More fashion statement–jk, billz’n’J88), with your boobies out. See, I forgot that at places like bars with dance floors and blasting music that actually trying to dance with one of you gals is only second to pushing your grandmother down a flight of steps on the Offense-O-Meter. (that happened to my buddy DTMJ–I’m way too chickenshit to try that, plus I can’t dance–he asked 4 different chicks about dancing, 1 pair were lesbians, and the others all had boyfriends—-who weren’t there) I must also apologize for having the audacity to stare at your breasts as you walk by. I didn’t realize that you were wearing a sensible, modest top when you left the house, only to have said sensible, modest top disintegrate in the car, thus leaving you with whatever backless, low cut, push up “emergency shirt” you had just laying around in your backseat or trunk or whatever. I’m truly a cad for staring at your breasts that are pushed up 2 inches below your chin. I must be from some bizarre tribe where the men in my village are actually aroused by the breasts of the women in our village. Weird, I know. Look, ladies, you’re at a motherfucking bar. Everyone’s drinking. There’s good music playing mad loud. The band is launching into “Don’t Stop Believing”. I’m in a very happy place, and checking you out–oogling, if you will–is making that place even happier. Don’t get mad that I’m admiring. Don’t get mad that my boy DTMJ wants to dance. Be glad that we’re not Tall White Boys With Bad Hair, White Dress Shirts, and Long Sideburns only interested in the Smash’n’Dash. Be glad that we appreciate your thickness, whereas those pretty Caucasian fuckholes are calling you fat and labeling you “the grenade”. Re-the fuck-lax and enjoy the 2-for-1 Cosmos.

Girls and their “Types”- So me and DTMJ are coming home from the Applebees last nite and we get to talking about girls. It’s what we do. We philosophize and then bitch about the girls we know, and then we bitch about girl-kind in general. We get to talking about types, and I had an epiphany. I’ll explain. See, I have a type. If there was a catalogue to pick out a wifey, on the physical side, she would be brunette, thick, big boobs, a squishy stomach, with a cute face and pretty eyes. I go gaga for those chicks. (see: Rey’s crushes on Winnie Cooper, Katharine McPhee, Anne Hathaway, Katie Holmes {before}, Kelly Clarkson. Kelly Kapowski, Neve Campbell—-girl next door types). But! Just because those are my preference doesn’t mean that a cute redhead girl couldn’t get sized up for the Powderblue Rocawear Suit and the white nikes. It doesn’t mean that a tall thin blonde girl couldn’t earn that coveted spot in my full-sized mattress with my dog F.R.E.D. sleeping next to us on the flo’. I’m equal-the fuck-opportunity. Girls? Ehh, Not so much. It seems that girls have this model of the kind of guy they want and therefore should wind up with, and if you don’t fit that ideal, you’re shit outta luck. It doesn’t help that 9 times outta 10 that type is some white rumple haired sarcastic fuck straight outta some Godforsaken MTV show. It doesn’t help that 11 times outta 20 that type is some goofy lookin’ “Older Man”caveman lookin’ type. It doesn’t help that 21 times outta 30 that that type is some superskinny socially retarded type, or some smirky spanish guy who’ll declare his undying love for you just to cheat on you with your best friend, or the black guy who’ll knock you up and ruin your credit. (yeah, all races got ethered–don’t get pissy). No sir, these chicks have their type and by crackey, that’s what they’re sticking with, regardless of what makes sense. Case in point: My friend Joy–very cute chick, fun, smart, likes the Knicks–likes the aforementioned DTMJ. DTMJ, however, isn’t interested. They’ve sorta made out a couple times, but that was it–no spark or whatever. Now, me and this girl are actually friends. We text, we talk, we blah blah blah. When she gets down I build her up (note-this doesn’t happen often enough for me to be Captain Save-A-Ho/the “gay best friend”–so we can skip that in the comments section). So what does she do? She pines after DTMJ even tho’ he doesn’t show any interest. He’s not an asshole or anything, he just doesn’t really check for her like that. See, something in her insane brain says “DTMJ is the kind of guy I should end up with, therefore, I will only consider him or him-types for the role of Boyfriend/Husband/Whatever.” I’m not sure what kind of female readership I have here, but I’d love this theory expounded on. Some of you will try to argue, but don’t you dare front on Uncle The Hussein. The guys I know have all had preferences, but have also deviated from said preferences time and time again. The girls? Ehh, Not so much.

So that about wraps it up.

To the Class of 1998 Reunion Organizers, People who condone the use of–and who actually use–the phrase “Strong Island”, Attitudey bar chicks, and Typecasting Girls: Aaaaannnd…You’re Done.


18 Responses to “Aaaaannnnd…You’re Done 2: The Return.”

  1. Phuque Says:

    >>or the black guy who’ll knock you up and ruin your credit.


    That’s a silly stereotype…I quit doing that somewhere around the time “baby mama number 3” had “baby number 6”.

    I love ’em & all, but if they keep tearing up my rent-to-own furniture (which is out of my budget – and in BM #2’s name), I’m going back to prison.

    Nice post Rey.

  2. reythehussein Says:

    LMAO.. Thanks Phuque.

  3. green eyes Says:

    lol @ phuque

    great post rey.

    in defense of girls…you all have plenty of “types” yourself. but w/e.

  4. reythehussein Says:

    Baahhh… We have “preferences”.. Ya’ll have TYPES!

    (still luh yoo gurrrllll)

  5. green eyes Says:

    i luh yooo too

  6. EnglandRepresent Says:

    What is this Greenie/Rey flirt action thing goin on? I turn my head for one second and find Greenie up in this piece givin Reymundo the old come on. Feckedy fecking feck. Back off Reymond, and Greenie, close your legs woman.

    Nice post Rey. Regarding women, my problem is I’m way too fussy. And then when I do find one I like and spend about 3 months with her alarm bells start ringing and I leg it. I’ve got issues.

    And I’m not in to that whole school reunion chat either. Bollocks to it is what I say.

    I still have’nt heard that Kanyizzle Rey Rey, I think I need to have a word with myself and sort my shit out (Nh).

  7. thoreauly77 Says:

    rey- man, you’re upset. you might want to reconsider those statements. i thought i hated highschool and now i communicate with more of the squares than all of the peoples that i chilled with in HS. anyhow, you never know how much we all have changed. i mean, if you haven’t changed, you haven’t grown, and if you have, who’s to say someone else hasn’t?

  8. green eyes Says:

    lmao.. dammit eng. go back a few posts– i was talking about you and me having to make it a blockbuster night earlier!

  9. EnglandRepresent Says:

    Good drink for you then chief.

    Snakebite and Black

    Half pint of strong cider
    Half pint of lager (Stella Artois)
    Topped up with blackcurrant cordial

    4 of those and you’ll be off your tits.

  10. EnglandRepresent Says:

    Ooooooooh Blockbuster night Greenie, I’m all over it. Fuck yeah. I’ll get the candles and the massage oil, you get the chocolate body paint and the strawberries. I’m in.

    *slams door of Itain’tthatserious*

    *flicks the middle finger at Reymond*

    *Grabs Greenie’s hand*

    Laters fuckers, I’m gonna get my jiggy on like I’m Michael Flatley outta Riverdance (Nh)

  11. ReyTheHussein Says:

    It’s too late and I’m too buzzed to give you all thoughtful replies.

    Just know I appreciate you all.



  12. reythehussein Says:

    @ EngRep– I swear, all me and Greenie did was cuddle. Matter ‘fact, she actually called me “England Represent” right in the middle of said cuddle. Definitely check on that KanYe, you’re really just hurting yourself at this point. *rey ponders an intervention* –>I don’t know if I’ll be able to actually get that drink, but if I can, by garney I’ll have one for you. [||]

    @ Thor– You make a really good point. I didn’t hate High School so much as I wasn’t in a hurry to “grow up” the way the rest of them seemed. I’m sure that’s as much a commentary on me as it is them, but I’ll take what you said into consideration. Thor, You are the stick thru the spinning spokes of my Ranting.

  13. green eyes Says:

    Matter ‘fact, she actually called me “England Represent” right in the middle of said cuddle.

    ^* dies *

  14. State of Grace Says:

    You know when boys are young and they act like they’re not interested in girls until some incredible girl comes along and changes all that? Kelly Kapowski was that girl for me. And fuck being cool, I’m in with the out crowd (c) JAMC

  15. reythehussein Says:

    @ S of G– I made the Out Crowd amongst the peeps I know!

    Kelly Kapowski was great. Tell you what though, both her and Winnie had a No Danged Good streak in ’em. Winnie cheated on Kevin Arnold, and poor Zack Morris pined for years over Kelly, just to have her dump him for the manager of the friggin’ Max.


  16. pockets Says:

    ahhhhhh TRUE JERSEY STAND UP!!!!!!!

  17. reythehussein Says:

    LOL.. You silly bastard. When are you gonna write something for me? [||]

  18. So… (A Series Of Riffs) « It ain’t that serious Says:

    […] Aaaaannnnd…You’re Done 2: The Return. […]

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