Wednesday, May 23, 2018

What Chewbacca Probably Thinks About While Trying To Fall Asleep


Ahhh. It’s so nice to have my head on a nice soft pillow. Man, what tough day.

Well done today buddy. You really shone in hard circumstances. Great work. Seriously. You were amazing.

Sure I didn’t get a medal, or a reward, again. Or get to be the center of attention. But I know that I was JUST as heroic and important to the mission as the others, and if I know that, then that’s enough right?

Hey if I risk my life and just survive then even THAT’S enough right?

I don’t do it for the plaudits. I do it for what’s right. And to save the people I care about. To be honest, in some ways, not being one of the ones honored in the end is maybe even a BIGGER honor. I wasn’t personally rewarded, so no one can EVER say that I was only in it for the rewards right? I risked MY life to save OTHERS. Period. No other end game. I don’t need to be remembered. I don’t need to be the one getting applauded. I just did it. That’s real heroism.

Still, an award would be nice. Remember when at school that Guidance Counselor said if I didn’t start applying myself and lift my test scores then the most I could hope to amount to would be to become meathead nightclub bouncer or something? Well I DIDN’T apply myself, and flunked biology AND woodwork, and I’m going to end up helping blow up the Death Star! Twice! Man if I DID have an award I would so go stick it right in that Guidance Councilors stupid face. That would be sweet.

But still it’s not WHY I do it. I can’t think that way.

Cause, man. I could have died today. Wow.

You forget in the moment. But I really could have DIED today.

That’s big.

I wonder what would become of me. Would I get buried? Or burned? Would I just disappear like Ob-Wan? Oooooh I hope I end up becoming a rug in a log cabin. No no no, in a Ski Chalet! That would be sweet. Near a fire. Maybe with someone’s pet kitten or Ewok curled up asleep on me. That’s how to spend eternity. I’ll probably end up just a coat or something though right? I wish I wore clothes. I bet I could rock a pair of leather pants. Although I bet if I tried Han would just mock me. For a guy that seems to wear the same damn shirt every single day, he sure is judgmental of other people’s fashion choices.

Anyways, stop thinking about it Chewie, you know you never get to sleep when you go down these paths, and besides I’m sure you’ll risk your life for nothing again tomorrow, won’t you big fella, so you can save these thoughts for after THAT adventure.

Wake up. Get blasted at. Blow something up. Watch Han get the rewards AND the cute dates. Go to bed. Start again. That’s your lot in life.

No no no. Don’t do this to yourself. I can’t get bitter. I have to stay positive. And I have to sleep. I HAVE to. I need to sleep if I’m going be fresh enough to survive anyway. Come on Chewie. Stop thinking about every damn thing and just sleep.

Maybe I should count sheep or something.

“One sheep. Two sheep. Three sheep. Four…”

Oh screw it. That’s doesn’t work. Now I just want to chew the sheep’s faces off. Oh man, how good is chewing faces off!

You know I never asked my mom what a Bacca is. Man, I must’ve LOVED chewing them as a kid to get named after them. They must have been YUM. I probably just shoved my face into bowls of them and chewed them like some sort of animal. Not even waiting for the table to properly be set. Like…


I just had an idea.

I just thought of something.

Yes, yes, yes!

It’s the best line ever.

Next time I see someone eating something just with their face I can yell out...

“Use the forks!”

Lol. That’s brilliant.

Wait no, even better. I could yell it when I see someone struggling with chopsticks

Lol. Genius.

“Hey buddy (tee-hee) instead of struggling with those… USE THE FORKS”.

YES! I’ll bring the house down. Now THAT will get me remembered. YES. Goddamn YES!

Man, I hope Han’s up for Chinese food soon.

Ok, ok, ok, I have to plan this right. I can’t just suggest it, can I? I can’t make it clear it was my idea, or the joke won’t seem off the cuff.

But then again Han hardly ever suggests Chinese.

Oh man. How can I get him to think about it on his own.

Maybe I can just like play around with the hyperdrive or something, and when he says “what the hell are you doing in there Chewie” I can be all like “just NOODLING around”.

Or or or, I can like clean out the toilets and ask him “should I just DUMPling this stuff into a pile of space junk and hope the Imperial Green Police don’t catch us, or is that too big a RICE..SK”.

“Just risk it Chewie” Han will probably say, “say for some reason I suddenly feel like Chinese food, want to go to Ming Koks for dinner” he’ll ponder my way.
“Chinese? That’s out of the blue Solo, let’s do it”, I’ll roar nonchalantly, while casually preparing the Falcon for the jump into light speed.
“You’ve been manipulated again Solo”. I’ll think with a chuckle.

Wait, I just realized something. Solo? He doesn’t even NEED that second name. It’s redundant. Otherwise he’d be Hans plural. Han singular leaves the Solo implied for damns sake. I don’t have a second name. Man, Han just get’s fucking everything doesn’t he?

Wait, wait, no no no. Did I just hear him in the other room saying “I’ve got a bad feeling about this”?

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fall asleep now and pretend you didn’t hear it.

Come on buddy fall asleep.

Now please.

Come on.

You can do it.

Just stop thinking.

Sleep away.

Come on damn it.

Oh fuck I think I just heard the deflector shield get activated.

Here we go fucking again.

Well this time, if Han nicks my Bowcaster again, and takes all the plaudits again, then I am TOTALLY gonna make him shout the Chinese Food! Suck on that, Solo.

Friday, May 4, 2018

Signs your shirt would make a poor plane (Don’t read this naked; well bottom half naked is ok)

 Congratulations, you did it, you put on a shirt today (please ignore this congratulations if you have instead put on some different form of top side of body practical clothing option. For YOUR personal congratulations please wait for the appropriate blog to reach your beautiful eyes shortly, or longly, depending on your top side of body clothing choice of choice). 

But is it a good shirt? I don’t know. I can’t see it. But also, of course it is. Shirts are ace. I wear them frequently. Sometimes even when I’m asked instead to wear a spray of tiny cut up pieces of glass. Which is, at best, only my third favorite type of top side of body cover. 

So let’s just brass tax this bad boy out down to the facts Jackson - shirts are awesome. 

Yet. YET. Would this kick ass shirt your wearing have made it so close to the top if it had have taken on a different profession? 

Probably, right? If you’re good at stuff you’re probably good at other stuff too. Like I’m good at writing random made up words which don’t fit the gulupital nature of the current sentence. So it stands to reason that I’d also be great at hiding giraffes under air conditioning vents, right? So I’ll probably just do that one day, and be honored for my contributions in helping giraffes live in homes without paying market rent. 

Still, I’m here to tell you, it’s not ALWAYS the same deal with your shirts. 

The point is, obviously, that before you reassign your shirt to be an airplane, here are some signs that this shirt in particular may, shock horror, make a BAD airplane. 

1. None of the buttons hold the current Federal Aviation requirements in regards to jet-fuel. 

2. The sunglasses dangling off the v-neck are NOT aviators.

3. You ask for a lift to the airport and the response is anything other than 'fuck off, it's my ONE day off'. 

4. Less than 80% of its seats armrests host working headphone jacks. 

5. If you spill poop on it, it doesn’t just suck it into the engine with a mighty force that seems to come from as deep as hell and then spray it all over the Atlantic. 

6. It’s sixteen tones of geniusly crafted steel and advanced computer technology, but shaped more like a boat than a plane. 

So there you go. 

If you ended up with a good plane congrats! Kaboom.

If not bad luck, but at least be thankful you didn’t end up wearing a spray of tiny broken up pieces of glass, you got a shirt damn it, and shirts are ace!