Showing posts with label Holyjuan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Holyjuan. Show all posts
Archived HolyJuan Stories and Thanks
In January of 2006, I started HolyJuan. It was Lia that said, “You should start a blog,” and I did.
My first story was a work related trip to Chicago and how I ended up spending the night at somewhere that was not my hotel room.
Since that story I’ve created 1,289 posts. Some stories. Some lies. Some rants. Some terrible cartoons. More lies.
Sadly, I am a much better story teller than a webpage person. Many of the wonderful HolyJuan stories are buried deep within the tubes of the internet. Someday, when I am famous and I thank all of you for getting me there, I’ll find a way to make the archives a bit more accessible. Until then I am going to begin dredging some of them up and reposting them at the top of the website. While many might call me lazy for reposting old stuff, I hope a few of you might appreciate some of my dustier memories.
I’d like to thank you for your continued readership. You e-mails and comments let me know that you all love me almost as much as I love myself. I’m always accessible by e-mail at holyjuan@gmail.com. I usually reply within a few days. Some of my best posts are Ask HolyJuan e-mails. Try me sometime.
Thanks again.
HolyJuan
My first story was a work related trip to Chicago and how I ended up spending the night at somewhere that was not my hotel room.
Since that story I’ve created 1,289 posts. Some stories. Some lies. Some rants. Some terrible cartoons. More lies.
Sadly, I am a much better story teller than a webpage person. Many of the wonderful HolyJuan stories are buried deep within the tubes of the internet. Someday, when I am famous and I thank all of you for getting me there, I’ll find a way to make the archives a bit more accessible. Until then I am going to begin dredging some of them up and reposting them at the top of the website. While many might call me lazy for reposting old stuff, I hope a few of you might appreciate some of my dustier memories.
I’d like to thank you for your continued readership. You e-mails and comments let me know that you all love me almost as much as I love myself. I’m always accessible by e-mail at holyjuan@gmail.com. I usually reply within a few days. Some of my best posts are Ask HolyJuan e-mails. Try me sometime.
Thanks again.
HolyJuan
Motivational BS Seminar Spam is Good for Something
I'm not sure if you get these types of seminar spam in your mail box. I get one or two a week. Seminars that are held on a daily basis across the State of Ohio in the best Best Westerns they have to offer.
You will note who is on top and who is on bottom:
Upping the ante, I patiently awaited for new ammo to arrive. When it did, I took the mailings to the shredder, shredded them and stuffed the shreddings in his mailbox. I left some dangling out for effect. Josh caught on very quickly when he saw some of my accidental leavings by the shredder. Ever cut into confetti, those obnoxious mailings are easy to pick out from a distance.
Over the holidays these damn things filled half of my mail box. So I, being the eco-friendly employee that I am, shoved them all in Josh's mailbox on top of his gathering pile of spam.
When Josh came back from the holidays, it took him a minute to realize that all that paper wasn't his. So he shoved them back in my box.
And then it was on.
We volleyed back and forth for a day or two, crumbling and folding and tearing the adverts. Some might observe, "Isn't the recycling bin right next to the mailboxes?" Yes it is and that's not the f*cking point.
A few days later I had two friends with nametags in my mailbox:
You will note who is on top and who is on bottom:
Upping the ante, I patiently awaited for new ammo to arrive. When it did, I took the mailings to the shredder, shredded them and stuffed the shreddings in his mailbox. I left some dangling out for effect. Josh caught on very quickly when he saw some of my accidental leavings by the shredder. Ever cut into confetti, those obnoxious mailings are easy to pick out from a distance.
A few days later, Josh inquired if I wanted to borrow a book that he had been reading. I accepted the book from across the cubicle. He noted that there were several sections that he had thought I might find interesting.
I did find them very interesting.
I knew I had to take it up a notch. There was a new unwritten rule that the Spaminar mailings could not just be stuck in the other's mailbox. It had to either be freely taken or deposited in the mailbox by other means.
So when more Spaminar mailings appeared in my box from the company, I took them and stuffed the mailings into an envelope.
On the front, I put a fictitious address in Lancaster, OH. I put Josh's name as the sender with a little note requesting return service.
I put a stamp on it and dropped it in the mailbox.
On the front, I put a fictitious address in Lancaster, OH. I put Josh's name as the sender with a little note requesting return service.
I put a stamp on it and dropped it in the mailbox.
Days passed. I waited.
Then our Prodigal Post came home.
Here's' Josh after retrieving the mail.
That photo was taken right before Josh realized that I had actually sent the letter out and had the post office boomerang it. He thought I had just stuck it in an envelope and faked the front. Once he realize the length I went to, he was a bit more impressed.
Here's the front. I was sad there were not any "RETURN TO SENDER" stamps on this.
I can't wait to see what Josh comes up with next. I have one up my sleeve, but I need a refrigerator box. Let me know if you have one I can borrow.
Here's' Josh after retrieving the mail.
That photo was taken right before Josh realized that I had actually sent the letter out and had the post office boomerang it. He thought I had just stuck it in an envelope and faked the front. Once he realize the length I went to, he was a bit more impressed.
Here's the front. I was sad there were not any "RETURN TO SENDER" stamps on this.
I can't wait to see what Josh comes up with next. I have one up my sleeve, but I need a refrigerator box. Let me know if you have one I can borrow.
Christmas with Allen and Lacey
Lacey was in town for the holidays and Caroline, Allen and I got together for a drink. Caroline wisely bailed before photographic evidence could be gathered.
Good times. Good times.
Good times. Good times.
Lotion
A video from around 2003. Dave and I helped to host the talent show and we created video filler material. This was one of the bits.
And I was thin in this video.
And I was thin in this video.
A HolyJuan Family Christmas
The HolyJuan clan wishes you a very merry Christmas and a happy new year. May we all be able to afford our own holiday cards next year.
Thanks for the Discount
Dave, his two brothers and I went in together to give money to a charity. I paid on my credit card and all but one of those jerks has paid up. Here is a close up of the check for $37.50 that Dave sent me.
HolyJuan Disclosure Policy
This policy is valid from 26 October 2009
This website is a personal website written and edited by me. For questions about this website, please contact holyjuan@gmail.com.
This website accepts forms of cash advertising, sponsorship, paid insertions or other forms of compensation.
The compensation received will never influence the content, topics or posts made in this website. All advertising is in the form of advertisements generated by a third party ad network. Those advertisements will be identified as paid advertisements.
The owner of this website is not compensated to provide opinion on products, services, websites and various other topics. The views and opinions expressed on this website are purely the website owner's. If I claim or appear to be experts on a certain topic or product or service area, I will only endorse products or services that I believe, based on my expertise, are worthy of such endorsement. Any product claim, statistic, quote or other representation about a product or service should be verified with the manufacturer or provider.
This website does not contain any content which might present a conflict of interest.
All content, materials, photos, writings, cartoons, and basically everything you see on www.holyjuan.com is copy protected. Contact me at holyjuan@gmail.com if you want to borrow my stuff. © 2006-2023 HolyJuan All Rights Reserved
To get your own policy, go to http://www.disclosurepolicy.org
This website is a personal website written and edited by me. For questions about this website, please contact holyjuan@gmail.com.
This website accepts forms of cash advertising, sponsorship, paid insertions or other forms of compensation.
The compensation received will never influence the content, topics or posts made in this website. All advertising is in the form of advertisements generated by a third party ad network. Those advertisements will be identified as paid advertisements.
The owner of this website is not compensated to provide opinion on products, services, websites and various other topics. The views and opinions expressed on this website are purely the website owner's. If I claim or appear to be experts on a certain topic or product or service area, I will only endorse products or services that I believe, based on my expertise, are worthy of such endorsement. Any product claim, statistic, quote or other representation about a product or service should be verified with the manufacturer or provider.
This website does not contain any content which might present a conflict of interest.
All content, materials, photos, writings, cartoons, and basically everything you see on www.holyjuan.com is copy protected. Contact me at holyjuan@gmail.com if you want to borrow my stuff. © 2006-2023 HolyJuan All Rights Reserved
To get your own policy, go to http://www.disclosurepolicy.org
HolyJuan interviews John: The Trip to Pensacola
(Author's note: This is an unedited interview between myself and the first funniest person I know, John, concerning a recent trip and associated conveyances.)
HOLYJUAN: Hello John, I understand you took a trip to Florida recently.
JOHN: Hi, HolyJuan. I did just travel from Ohio to Florida, but nothing about my trip was ordinary.
HJ: I know you are a well seasoned traveler, so you would have purchased a direct flight. Probably first class.
JOHN: Well, that's what made this trip so extraordinary - the sheer mundane nature of my travel attempts. I did, in fact, try to purchase a direct flight from Columbus to Pensacola. But, due to the unavailability of direct flights between those two airports, I was forced to purchase a flight with a layover in Memphis. And, due to a pronounced case of hyperclotholavaphobia (fear of hot towels), it was necessary to fly coach. I was lured into a false sense of security when the first leg of my flight occurred without incident. However, when I arrived in Memphis, things took a turn for the worse.
HJ: Explosive diarrhea?
JOHN: Explosive diarrhea? No, not this time. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get through Customs in Houston when you have two agents sifting through your boxers trying to separate the "flora" from the "fauna"?
No, when my flight arrived in Memphis, I took two trains, rode nine escalators, flew a hang-glider and hitched a ride with 27 Guatemalan immigrants in a '96 Hyundai Excel, all to arrive at my connecting gate just to hear that the second-leg of my flight to Pensacola had been cancelled.
HJ: I'm assuming that the airline paid for a night in a seedy motel / hot tub hotel and you caught not only syphilis, but also the next flight out in the morning?
JOHN: Well, yes. The airline did offer to fly me out the next morning and pay for a room that night at the 1/2-star Memphis Crampton Inn Menses Suites hotel. I declined on reasons of faith. I then spent the next 90 minutes working with airline representatives on finding alternate airport destinations that were reasonably close to Pensacola ("reasonably" being defined as within two time zones or 13 Postal Zip Codes). The closest I could do was Memphis - Pensacola via Bialystok, Poland, which was unacceptable - no duty-free shopping. Just as I was contemplating going to Graceland and committing assisted-suicide over the King's empty grave, something miraculous occurred behind me at the airline ticket counter.
HJ: Your introduction to the Memphis 0 Mile High Club?
JOHN: In hindsight, I would have much rather been inducted into the Memphis 0 Mile High Club, even as an "unwilling / forced-entry" initiate. When I turned around, I witnessed what could best be described as a ruckus. I saw three red-faced men, blustering and gesticulating wildly. I heard them speaking, in what I first thought was a foreign language, and quickly realized was a thickly-accented Southern drawl. The conversation went something like this:
Guy 1: "Whtchall mean, planbecancel?"
Guy 2: "Slap weasel sloop, we'sfukednow. Mysister-wife ain't gonna be none toopleased"
Guy 3: "I gotta takeashit."
I was fascinated. I stepped closer, so that I could hear more. What transpired over the next 30 minutes, as these world-traveling idiot-savants identified, and subsequently rejected, option after option for getting home, was a formulation of a plan so crazy, it just couldn't fail.
HJ: Were these business suit types or coveralls with boots? Would you say they were squeezed into their clothes or did they just step out of the gym fifteen minutes before the flight was canceled?
JOHN: Here's the recipe - toss Malachi from "Children of the Corn" into a time machine for 20 years and rough him up a bit, add a slightly-larger-than-average "Deliverance" banjo-playing cranium, throw in a hint of Skoal aftershave, season to taste and simmer for 23 hours in the same clothes. Repeat twice.
Drawn as I was to the spectacle unfolding before me, it was only a matter of time before I had to insert myself into the proceedings by way of providing airport information to this motley crew. And just like that (well, after one question was appropriately responded to in the negative - "Yous ain't nokiller, is yuh?"), I was officially part of the Southern Comfort Stranded Travelers' Club. I felt the unwashed hand of fate on the small of my back, carrying me along as the plan was put into action.
HJ: Wait... so you ended up in a hotel with these guys? Did you rent a crop duster?
JOHN: Fortunately, I was sober, so the hotel option was not discussed. A vehicle was rented, however. An eggshell-white Mercury sedan. It was into this conveyance that the four of us newly-formed and tightly-knit friends piled and proceeded to DRIVE, from Memphis all the way down to Pensacola. Let me clarify - I rode, for all intents and purposes, captive, in a car with three complete strangers for 450 miles (travel time required - 9.5 hours, which included stops at eight convenience stores, six fast-food restaurants and one closed-for-the-night petting zoo with really poor security). Along the way, I learned about sales, tractors and the increased need for birth control when sleeping with any relative closer than three-times removed. But, as if that was not enough, there was a kicker.
HJ: A kicker? Do tell! Did these fine gentlemen of the south expound upon the current health care debate or possibly their concern about the unemployment levels?
JOHN: The only topic upon which they expounded in any detail was their marked displeasure at the current state of race relations in the US, which they feel has progressed entirely too much since the "glory days" of 1860. No, the piece of information that they failed to divulge to me earlier in our trip, was that they didn't actually live in Pensacola, but rather "close," which translated to an hour north of the city limits. This required me to, at 4:30 AM CT, have my girlfriend drive 50 minutes to pick me up on the side of the Interstate. I spent those 50 minutes at a gas station restocking the shelves, taking out the trash and fending off the romantic advances of Horatio, the night cashier.
All's well that ends well, I suppose, but in hindsight, I would have been better off cramming myself into an URGENT - OVERNIGHT envelope and FedEx'ing myself to Florida. Or, maybe doing what other, ummm, more rational folks would have done, and simply waited for the next available flight.
HJ: Can you, with your elementary math skills, calculate the number of times, if any, they used the N-word?
JOHN: 3.97351680636005e+28 times (my calculator ran out of digits). What amazed me more than the sheer number of utterances was the inventiveness in which the word was used. Did you know that it can be used as a modifier (both adjective and adverb), a conjunction, a verb, even as the object of a preposition? I remember a sentence where the word was simply repeated seven times, with verbal inflection being the only clue as to what message the speaker was conveying.
HJ: What type of food did these guys eat and did they offer you bites after they had taken the first?
JOHN: Does Skoal Wintergreen backwash count? If so, it was an all-you-can-eat tobacco buffet on wheels through the entire state of Mississippi. Aside from that, there were a couple of routine stops at McDonalds and Krystal (White Castle for the South). There WAS something unusual, however. At 3:20 AM, I was awakened from a light doze when we pulled over to the side of the road. Two of the gentleman opened their doors and ran back behind the car with forks and napkins. It was dark, so I couldn't see what happened back there, but they came back to the car five minutes later wiping their mouths and mumbling words like "stil wawm", "shitlicious" and "whoo-hee."
HJ: One last question: given the opportunity, would you have done anything different?
JOHN: Not a thing, n-word…
HOLYJUAN: Hello John, I understand you took a trip to Florida recently.
JOHN: Hi, HolyJuan. I did just travel from Ohio to Florida, but nothing about my trip was ordinary.
HJ: I know you are a well seasoned traveler, so you would have purchased a direct flight. Probably first class.
JOHN: Well, that's what made this trip so extraordinary - the sheer mundane nature of my travel attempts. I did, in fact, try to purchase a direct flight from Columbus to Pensacola. But, due to the unavailability of direct flights between those two airports, I was forced to purchase a flight with a layover in Memphis. And, due to a pronounced case of hyperclotholavaphobia (fear of hot towels), it was necessary to fly coach. I was lured into a false sense of security when the first leg of my flight occurred without incident. However, when I arrived in Memphis, things took a turn for the worse.
HJ: Explosive diarrhea?
JOHN: Explosive diarrhea? No, not this time. Do you have any idea how long it takes to get through Customs in Houston when you have two agents sifting through your boxers trying to separate the "flora" from the "fauna"?
No, when my flight arrived in Memphis, I took two trains, rode nine escalators, flew a hang-glider and hitched a ride with 27 Guatemalan immigrants in a '96 Hyundai Excel, all to arrive at my connecting gate just to hear that the second-leg of my flight to Pensacola had been cancelled.
HJ: I'm assuming that the airline paid for a night in a seedy motel / hot tub hotel and you caught not only syphilis, but also the next flight out in the morning?
JOHN: Well, yes. The airline did offer to fly me out the next morning and pay for a room that night at the 1/2-star Memphis Crampton Inn Menses Suites hotel. I declined on reasons of faith. I then spent the next 90 minutes working with airline representatives on finding alternate airport destinations that were reasonably close to Pensacola ("reasonably" being defined as within two time zones or 13 Postal Zip Codes). The closest I could do was Memphis - Pensacola via Bialystok, Poland, which was unacceptable - no duty-free shopping. Just as I was contemplating going to Graceland and committing assisted-suicide over the King's empty grave, something miraculous occurred behind me at the airline ticket counter.
HJ: Your introduction to the Memphis 0 Mile High Club?
JOHN: In hindsight, I would have much rather been inducted into the Memphis 0 Mile High Club, even as an "unwilling / forced-entry" initiate. When I turned around, I witnessed what could best be described as a ruckus. I saw three red-faced men, blustering and gesticulating wildly. I heard them speaking, in what I first thought was a foreign language, and quickly realized was a thickly-accented Southern drawl. The conversation went something like this:
Guy 1: "Whtchall mean, planbecancel?"
Guy 2: "Slap weasel sloop, we'sfukednow. Mysister-wife ain't gonna be none toopleased"
Guy 3: "I gotta takeashit."
I was fascinated. I stepped closer, so that I could hear more. What transpired over the next 30 minutes, as these world-traveling idiot-savants identified, and subsequently rejected, option after option for getting home, was a formulation of a plan so crazy, it just couldn't fail.
HJ: Were these business suit types or coveralls with boots? Would you say they were squeezed into their clothes or did they just step out of the gym fifteen minutes before the flight was canceled?
JOHN: Here's the recipe - toss Malachi from "Children of the Corn" into a time machine for 20 years and rough him up a bit, add a slightly-larger-than-average "Deliverance" banjo-playing cranium, throw in a hint of Skoal aftershave, season to taste and simmer for 23 hours in the same clothes. Repeat twice.
Drawn as I was to the spectacle unfolding before me, it was only a matter of time before I had to insert myself into the proceedings by way of providing airport information to this motley crew. And just like that (well, after one question was appropriately responded to in the negative - "Yous ain't nokiller, is yuh?"), I was officially part of the Southern Comfort Stranded Travelers' Club. I felt the unwashed hand of fate on the small of my back, carrying me along as the plan was put into action.
HJ: Wait... so you ended up in a hotel with these guys? Did you rent a crop duster?
JOHN: Fortunately, I was sober, so the hotel option was not discussed. A vehicle was rented, however. An eggshell-white Mercury sedan. It was into this conveyance that the four of us newly-formed and tightly-knit friends piled and proceeded to DRIVE, from Memphis all the way down to Pensacola. Let me clarify - I rode, for all intents and purposes, captive, in a car with three complete strangers for 450 miles (travel time required - 9.5 hours, which included stops at eight convenience stores, six fast-food restaurants and one closed-for-the-night petting zoo with really poor security). Along the way, I learned about sales, tractors and the increased need for birth control when sleeping with any relative closer than three-times removed. But, as if that was not enough, there was a kicker.
HJ: A kicker? Do tell! Did these fine gentlemen of the south expound upon the current health care debate or possibly their concern about the unemployment levels?
JOHN: The only topic upon which they expounded in any detail was their marked displeasure at the current state of race relations in the US, which they feel has progressed entirely too much since the "glory days" of 1860. No, the piece of information that they failed to divulge to me earlier in our trip, was that they didn't actually live in Pensacola, but rather "close," which translated to an hour north of the city limits. This required me to, at 4:30 AM CT, have my girlfriend drive 50 minutes to pick me up on the side of the Interstate. I spent those 50 minutes at a gas station restocking the shelves, taking out the trash and fending off the romantic advances of Horatio, the night cashier.
All's well that ends well, I suppose, but in hindsight, I would have been better off cramming myself into an URGENT - OVERNIGHT envelope and FedEx'ing myself to Florida. Or, maybe doing what other, ummm, more rational folks would have done, and simply waited for the next available flight.
HJ: Can you, with your elementary math skills, calculate the number of times, if any, they used the N-word?
JOHN: 3.97351680636005e+28 times (my calculator ran out of digits). What amazed me more than the sheer number of utterances was the inventiveness in which the word was used. Did you know that it can be used as a modifier (both adjective and adverb), a conjunction, a verb, even as the object of a preposition? I remember a sentence where the word was simply repeated seven times, with verbal inflection being the only clue as to what message the speaker was conveying.
HJ: What type of food did these guys eat and did they offer you bites after they had taken the first?
JOHN: Does Skoal Wintergreen backwash count? If so, it was an all-you-can-eat tobacco buffet on wheels through the entire state of Mississippi. Aside from that, there were a couple of routine stops at McDonalds and Krystal (White Castle for the South). There WAS something unusual, however. At 3:20 AM, I was awakened from a light doze when we pulled over to the side of the road. Two of the gentleman opened their doors and ran back behind the car with forks and napkins. It was dark, so I couldn't see what happened back there, but they came back to the car five minutes later wiping their mouths and mumbling words like "stil wawm", "shitlicious" and "whoo-hee."
HJ: One last question: given the opportunity, would you have done anything different?
JOHN: Not a thing, n-word…
My Scrabble score
You'd never know it, but I love Scrabble. Here's my Scrabble name score:
Pholph's Scrabble Generator        My Scrabble© Score is: 21. What is your score? Get it here. |
New HolyJuan T-Shirt - I am awesome
Here's my newest T-shirt on Skreened.com:
See it and my other crappy designs at http://skreened.com/holyjuan/i-am-awesome-basic
See it and my other crappy designs at http://skreened.com/holyjuan/i-am-awesome-basic
HolyJuan's YankFest Marathon Weekend and a new site partner!
Hello Loyal Readers,
As you all know, this weekend’s “HolyJuan's YankFest Marathon” will be a mastabatorial frenzy of self gratification. During this 48 hour self-manipulating tug and toss, we hope to get at least 80 readers to unleash their inner seed(s). I saw that KY stock went up 15% on the news of this impending, self wankifying event.
While every male is covering his belly in creamy man-onnaise and all the girls are writhing in self glory, I’d like to let you know that we have a new site partner. WELCOME ABOARD TABUP.COM!!
I’m not sure what tabup.com is, but the guy e-mailed me and asked if I could promote his product. I’m guessing he blindly searched the internet and found my site and sent me an e-mail without really doing any site research.
The e-mail he sent said that his product will “strengthen group interaction” so I’m guessing that it will help when two or more of you are enjoying each other’s loins.
So, while you are all giving yourself a raise this weekend, think about me and think about tabup.com –
I’d also like you all to remember not to randomly send out e-mails asking to be promoted on a site that you don’t read.
As you all know, this weekend’s “HolyJuan's YankFest Marathon” will be a mastabatorial frenzy of self gratification. During this 48 hour self-manipulating tug and toss, we hope to get at least 80 readers to unleash their inner seed(s). I saw that KY stock went up 15% on the news of this impending, self wankifying event.
While every male is covering his belly in creamy man-onnaise and all the girls are writhing in self glory, I’d like to let you know that we have a new site partner. WELCOME ABOARD TABUP.COM!!
I’m not sure what tabup.com is, but the guy e-mailed me and asked if I could promote his product. I’m guessing he blindly searched the internet and found my site and sent me an e-mail without really doing any site research.
The e-mail he sent said that his product will “strengthen group interaction” so I’m guessing that it will help when two or more of you are enjoying each other’s loins.
So, while you are all giving yourself a raise this weekend, think about me and think about tabup.com –
I’d also like you all to remember not to randomly send out e-mails asking to be promoted on a site that you don’t read.
New Corporate Branding
Our company is trying some new Branding and changing our work attire is one method of creating a new look and feel.
I was asked to try out the new uniform. I think it looks awesome.
The colors represent sincerity, allegiance and fortitude.
The shirt also keeps my bra flab minimized while increasing the girth of my pipes.
I was asked to try out the new uniform. I think it looks awesome.
The colors represent sincerity, allegiance and fortitude.
The shirt also keeps my bra flab minimized while increasing the girth of my pipes.
Published!
I sometimes pretend that I am a writer. Thoughts fall out of my head, the keyboard clacks and some of these ponderings actually make it into somewhat legible sentences for you to read. But that doesn’t make me a writer. It makes me a blogger. Anyone (and most everyone) is a blogger. To be a writer, you have to get published.
I am now a writer.
Last month, I got an e-mail from Brian Egeston, Editor-in-Chief at Barbershop Digest. BD is a publication that is directed towards barbershop patrons in the Atlanta area. Usually these patrons are black. He said he liked my story about my trip to a local black barbershop and that he wanted to publish my article. I won’t go into the amount of money he offered me to print the piece, but let’s just say it was more than I have even been offered in the past for an article.
I agreed to let him print the story, sent him a headshot and waited patiently for the month to pass.
And now it has passed.
That is not me walking in the barbershop in the photo above, though it almost fooled me.
So please, head over to Barbershop Digest and once there, click on the magazine on the left hand side for the PDF of the September 2008 issue. Of course you should read my article, but also read some of the other offerings. I especially liked "The Pimps vs The Preachers" feature article. Oh... and the little boy getting his hair cut for the first time is very cute.
Thanks for reading everyone. I couldn't have done it without you.
HolyJuan (pimp)* (*Official pimp status not confirmed.)
{EDITOR'S NOTE - I think we killed BD's bandwidth. The link to the PDF does not work anymore. Here's a photo of the article.}
I am now a writer.
Last month, I got an e-mail from Brian Egeston, Editor-in-Chief at Barbershop Digest. BD is a publication that is directed towards barbershop patrons in the Atlanta area. Usually these patrons are black. He said he liked my story about my trip to a local black barbershop and that he wanted to publish my article. I won’t go into the amount of money he offered me to print the piece, but let’s just say it was more than I have even been offered in the past for an article.
I agreed to let him print the story, sent him a headshot and waited patiently for the month to pass.
And now it has passed.
So please, head over to Barbershop Digest and once there, click on the magazine on the left hand side for the PDF of the September 2008 issue. Of course you should read my article, but also read some of the other offerings. I especially liked "The Pimps vs The Preachers" feature article. Oh... and the little boy getting his hair cut for the first time is very cute.Thanks for reading everyone. I couldn't have done it without you.
HolyJuan (pimp)* (*Official pimp status not confirmed.)
{EDITOR'S NOTE - I think we killed BD's bandwidth. The link to the PDF does not work anymore. Here's a photo of the article.}
HolyJuan’s Predictions for 2008
OK, so none of my predictions for 2007 came true except for the “3. Bird Flu will not have an effect on the world’s population… this year,” prediction.
Here is my list of predictions for 2008 and I predict all of them will maybe come true.
1. The world will NOT end on 06/07/08. Unless you count my soon to be cousin-in-law, then maybe you have an argument.
2. Home Depot will change the spelling of its name to Home DeePo so that people start pronouncing it correctly.
3. I will not get caught for cheating on my taxes.
4. Due to some crazy political thing and some weird labor thing and an awful bug infestation thing and a mule slaughter thing, here will be a coffee shortage of epic proportions. Tea people will point and laugh until the tea shortage kicks in.
5. The US Mint will cease penny production. The New(est) Dollar coin will look and feel like 100 pennies taped together.
6. Calculator watches will come back in style.
7. 50% of the US population is going to be upset about the election results. 100% of Ron Paul supporters are going to be upset about the election results.
8. Shit tornados. Everywhere.
9. It will rain on September 26th in Lancaster, OH.
10. Harrison Ford will go into a sex induced coma. He will only awaken when George Lucas swears to God that he will allow someone else to write and direct the final Star Wars trilogy.
Here is my list of predictions for 2008 and I predict all of them will maybe come true.
1. The world will NOT end on 06/07/08. Unless you count my soon to be cousin-in-law, then maybe you have an argument.
2. Home Depot will change the spelling of its name to Home DeePo so that people start pronouncing it correctly.
3. I will not get caught for cheating on my taxes.
4. Due to some crazy political thing and some weird labor thing and an awful bug infestation thing and a mule slaughter thing, here will be a coffee shortage of epic proportions. Tea people will point and laugh until the tea shortage kicks in.
5. The US Mint will cease penny production. The New(est) Dollar coin will look and feel like 100 pennies taped together.
6. Calculator watches will come back in style.
7. 50% of the US population is going to be upset about the election results. 100% of Ron Paul supporters are going to be upset about the election results.
8. Shit tornados. Everywhere.
9. It will rain on September 26th in Lancaster, OH.
10. Harrison Ford will go into a sex induced coma. He will only awaken when George Lucas swears to God that he will allow someone else to write and direct the final Star Wars trilogy.
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