How wimps get all the snatch...

Apr 22, 2005 00:00

When Juliya from Uranium asks me who my three main influences are, I will have no choice but to say Hegel, Anakin Skywalker, and Masuimi Max.

The latter is the only reason I would go to an event like Hot Import Nights. Here’s a dramatical story told out of chronological order for the sake of climactic purposes on how I got to meet her.



Sure, there were a bunch of little Asian dolls prancing about all skimped out and scandalized
, but there was only one person worthy of a second look. Well, a third one at least. And finding Waldo would’ve been easier than finding her. We sure could’ve used his help.

DJ Lady Tribe was there, both bored and boring, on a stage playing other people’s music and somehow maintaining a frontwoman status. On each side of the stage was a skimpy glow-in-the-UV-light outfit swirling and twirling to its own rhythm, and AnTheorem found new inspiration. So we left, continuing our search for the Max, and came back full circle to the stage, where some fashion show was taking place. The girls with the most naked southern-hemisphere got the loudest applause. The others, well, I don’t think that crowd cares about any other part of the body. This little event was hosted by the most annoying “MC” this planet has ever uprooted.

“Eyo, eyo! Looka dis! Guhrl, what’s yo name, guhrl?!...Destiny? You’s my destiny, Destiny! Givitup f’Destiny y’all!”

All damn day. But for reasons we care not to admit
we stayed till that particular show was over.

“Eyo, eyo! Now we gots a special guest f’y’all tonight! Hailing from Houston, Texas, givitup fo’-“

Woohoo! Here she comes!

“-Slim Thug!”

Who?

Apparently there’s a new upstart rapper guy named Slim Thug.



As big a fan of hip-hop as I am, I know I certainly had never heard that name before, and it seemed like no one else had either. So, the welcoming cheers he received were more than adequate for someone of prepubescent musical stature. But what limped out onstage was a caricature of a caricature with no more charisma than an earthworm, who mumbled something into the microphone, turned around and limped back offstage.

MC Crunkhead was actually a refreshing sight.

“Eyo, eyo! I just got word from Slim Thug’s management that he ain’t gon’ come back out till he hears y’all call out ‘Slim Thug! Slim Thug!’ as loud as y’all can possibly do! So givitup yo! Slim Thug! Slim Thug! Slim Thug!”

I certainly didn’t expect as many people to join in as they did. Rather generous, I thought. But apparently ten people weren’t enough.

“Eyo, eyo. That wasn’t good’nuff, y’all. He ain’t comin’ out.”

In less than a minute, the crowd dispersed, not at all disappointed.

Still, no Masuimi.

Now, being at an import show, it became apparent rather quickly that by “import,” they’re really talking more about the cars than the girls. And for you ladies out there that don’t know, there are only two types of Guy: those who dream about having cars and those who dream about being comic book superheroes. I am well on my way to achieving the last one. All I need is this:


Dave, on the other hand, is a car guy. He would break his finger for a car. Here’s a picture of him in a car:


The tongue is for all you ladies out there. The right-hand driver’s side is for all you guys into that sort of thing.

But, for those too Americanized to grasp the concept of right-hand driver’s sides, like me, who would drive one of those things and can’t help but feel like you’re going in the opposite direction of your destination, this one’s for you:


After having journeyed from one end of the Convention Center to the other multiple times, battling many a foe, conquering many a land, and securing ourselves a spot in Hot Import Nights history, we eventually found what we came for. And she was sitting right next to Waldo.

But before I continue, let me go back to then I was in deep infatuation with Olympic Gymnast Dominique Moceanu.
At the time, she was my age, so it wasn’t really weird. Anyway, she came to the Fashion Square Mall to sign autographs, and when I found her, it looked like the line to meet her was super-short. So I tried adding myself to the end of it, only to be halted by a cop who showed me where the real line was and how it had been cut off because she was only minutes away from leaving. Devastation galore, but it ultimately ended happily.

However, I was brought back to that moment when I looked and saw that there was absolutely no line for the official Hot Import Nights spokesmodel. I didn’t mean to be rude, Masuimi, I promise, when I asked if this was the line for you-pointing of course at no line whatsoever. All the other less-dressed whores were flooded by horny-corny Linkin Park look-alikes.

Therefore, I have pretty much determined that making fetish pinup model Masuimi Max the official spokesmodel for Hot Import Nights is like having Zao headline the Grammys. It’d be cool, yeah, but only for the elite few of us who actually know what it means to be cool.

So we met and everything else rocked. Here’s proof of how perseverance pays off:



The chick on the right is so much hotter. Hey, it’s my girlfriend!

Now, few of you know that I am actually an outstandingly gorgeous man. My dashing good looks have been known to tear down tyrannical governments and free slaves, propelling me to near sainthood. However, standing next to Masuimi Max, everyone and anyone would inevitably look like this:



Now, let us analyze this a moment:



Verdict: I do rock that much.

But wait! It looks like I’m not the only one who found what I was looking for!



Now go here. www.iamtrouble.com
Yes, girl, you are trouble. Triple-W dot com.

And here. www.slimthugthaboss.com
Yeah dude, you are tha boss.
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