The Bastard Prince in ‘Fuck you Chris Hanson’

tase

So my mom doesn’t like it that I’m single. “Oy vey, she says, I’m your mother, I worry. You’re out with those boys all the times, doing your improvised street theatre. It’s no life for a meylekh mamzer.”

And she’s right you know. I’m almost thirty three years old, I’m unemployed, and I’ve never had a serious relationship. I mean, I try. There was this one chick… But she was like way more experienced and besides, she had this whole weird-ass fetish going on. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as G.G.G as the next guy, but if you’re going to take a damp squib to my pinkies you better have an MD, if you know what I’m saying.

So to please mom, and to dispel those rumours in Damascus that JC is ‘a Thespian’, and you know, as a last ditch effort to solder off the silver ring thing, I decided to find a girlfriend.

I asked the guys from the troop, and it turns out Paul has this sister in advertising – who they tell me is busty, smart and tasteful, and a big fan of Him, always a plus. Word is she likes skinny surfer types – score one to team JC. So I’m like ‘Paul, show a brother some love’; and he’s all ‘She’s my sister man’, and I’m like ‘Dude you know I’ll treat her right’. Next thing, blind date.

jesus3
Lookin’ tres sweet

First warning sign is she wants to eat at a Roman place. I know, I know, but bitches dig Italian food, so I’m like O…K. Right away, even though they have that bloodshot bistro lighting, I can tell this chick’s reputation exceeds her. It doesn’t seem appropriate, so I don’t ask about her funky bristen. Got tsu danken she catches me staring. ‘Botched reduction’, she says. I’m sorry, botched reduction? Which part of that makes sense? And Paul was not kidding when he said his big sister liked Carbonara. One word – Moo Moo.

aaaaaaah
So I took her home OK, es hot zich oysgelohzen a boydem!

So next thing I decide to try the internet. Yeah, a-rite it’s a little sad and everyone’s a furry, but think of the little guy, he doesn’t get out much. So I find this great site with tonnes of yiddishe zoftig, and JC is like more than ready to forgive the fact that most a these bitches are anything but kosher. This site is great and all, and your savour gets endless mileage from the old MySpace Emo polaroid; but Jerusalem is not Manhattan, and I drive a Fiat, not a beamer, so things take a while. Eventually JC gets hooked up on the MSN with this one chick ‘DangerKitty14’, and man is this girl a wild child. Pretty soon we are cybering and shit – which, let me tell you, is no mean feat when all you’ve got is a 3G dongle, and you live in a tent with twelve dudes (at least two of whom are statistically certain to lust for the old hannukia).

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So hawt, you should see the upskirts yo

JC is like ‘Fleshmeet IRL babes?’, and this chick is all ‘We’ll have to wait till my parents are asleep so I can sneak out,’ and I’m like ‘WTF babes, your profile says you’re hot to trot?’, and she’s like ‘Soz, want to meet tonite cutie?’. Well ChrisDsun32 is all Natalie Imbrulia and shit, cause like on the one hand this babe is total jailbait, but boiling the other kettle of fish, we probs have about the same level of experience, you know? So a couple of weeks go by, and I’m being all strong and shit, and she goes and PM’s me some upskirts and I’m like F this, Ich hob es in drerd! Mistake numero uno.

chris-hanson
JC being this like, badass black bloc dissident, spreading Ja’s righteous teachings throughout Babylon n’ shit, he cannot be too careful. So I bring the boys along, thinking – if this turns out to be some three hundred pound vigilante fuck, and shit kicks off, kid’s ‘ill have my back. Mistake number two.

The hour comes, I wake the fellas, pile em into the Punto and head over to Gethsemane park. Man, we’re not in that fucker two seconds when who walks up but, you’ve guessed it, that ganef Chris from Hanson. I’m all like “You better be looking for an autograph mofo”, and he’s all “Do you know why you’re here?” And I’m like “Yeah bro, to meet a fine ass bitch, ain’t that right boys?” Then he’s like “Hold it hippie, there’s cops all over this place”, and “What have you got in the bag?” And I’m like “X-cuse me?” I mean, so what If I brought lube and condoms to the party – the J man is responsible, and hung yo.

Then Pete starts yelling “We don’t know this homie, we don’t know this homie, we don’t know this homie,” fucking schlemiel. In miten drinen JC’s on his fucking tod, and Hanson’s like “Yo you have to leave now”, and I’m like “You bet I’m leaving beotch. Also could you tell this Dangerous Kitty chick the J Man said hi?” Fucking mistake numero trois. The moment Christ-O-Fo-Cumupyo-Ass leaves the park there’s like eight pigs after him, and I’m all ‘Don’t tase me Bro!’, and that shlang Chris Hanson is just standing there, laughing his ass off. Nisht do gedacht!

who-me-nooz
Who me, nooz!

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