Austin Says: Tips for Everyday Life – Being Austin

Hello. My name is Austin and these are my tips for everyday life. These tips are about Surviving the new life my previous tips have invented for you

If you’ve read my previous tips then there is a very real possibility that you are doing fine in school, getting with all the ladies, and having no problems waking up in the morning. This can be a hard life, I know, I live it every day. These tips should help you manage your Austin-like life like Austin does.
First, remember who you are. You aren’t just some random chump of the street. You are a lady killing, beer chugging badass from Texas (maybe). Yeah it’s hard going for six hours every night but everything is bigger in Texas (maybe) you know! Don’t ever let anyone doubt your abilities and if they do, prove them wrong.

Second, remember why you do what you do. Obviously the drinking and sexing is great but you don’t just do it because you can. I mean, you shouldn’t just do it because you can. You do it because of you are Austin’s gift to women and the world. Each time you crawl into bed with a woman you hardly know you are tipping your hat to Austin. When you pound, you make him proud, remember that.

Third, Don’t hesitate to take the day off. Honestly it is hard being so awesome. At least you aren’t asked to sign autographs (yet). Once that happens a day off is mandatory cause man does that hurt your wrist. And man is your wrist important… for like.. everything. Anyways, back on topic.

Fourth, always eat right. Now what I mean by right can be taken any way you want. I consider a dark lager and some peanuts to be right. You might include a steak and eggs. Under no circumstance should you eat more vegetables then meat or beer. Meet and beer are your power source and vegetables are your kryptonite, balance them.

Fifthly, and lastly, don’t forget where you got your new powers from. It isn’t easy being me but it is even harder being now that there are other me’s out there trying to be me better than I can be me. So if you see me out of the street being me then please take it on yourself to stop being me for just one day.

Viagra Moments

viagra-demotivational-poster

First of all let me be honest, I hate erectile dysfunction commercials almost as much as I hate the The View. Watching a good television show only to be interrupted by some guy talking about how he can’t please his gracefully maturing wife is as disturbing as over hearing your parent’s having sex.
I’m thirty two years old and perhaps one day I will be walking into my doctor’s office with a ski mask on begging for some penile-poppers jonesing like that women in Menace to Society, but that is not why I dislike them.

First off there is the names and logo’s they come up with. Yes, Viagra sounds normal to us now, but let’s look at Clalis, it’s name and logo had me believing it was a new juice product from the makers of Sunny Delight. Then there are those commercials.

Watcha looking at?

Eyes meeting across the room, what could be more romantic? Well, if you wouldn’t have failed that eye exam last week maybe she would have believed your look was a call for sex and not gas from last night’s dinner. Besides, you barely talk anymore; you have been sitting in that dusty plastic covered living room reading the same damn book for fifty years and now because of a drug-induced stiffy your fiery passions burn again? Right.

Interrupted what?

So, now the pills are fast-acting and long-lasting. There are a ton of problems here. You claim you and your misses were about to play find-the-clam when your college-edition Girls Gone Wild daughter comes home and interrupts you. Lying is bad; every time you lie George Bush kills ten kittens. The truth is that for fifteen years you have been planning sex dates and eighty percent of the time you (meaning your penis) fails to show. Now your wife just watches Sex in the City instead. All of sudden you find a chemical miracle and now your daughter is interrupting you. Oh, I forgot, it’s a pleasant interruption. Long lasting huh? How do you think your daughter will feel when she feels your long-lasting when you give her a welcome home hug?

Where did you find those?

You planned a romantic weekend at your secluded cabin overlooking the beach. To be safe you have two boxes of pills because you figure even if your heart can’t take it your ‘Johnson’ can. There will be no interruptions, pleasant or otherwise. First let’s take a look at that romantic sunset, on the porch, overlooking the lake, in our twin metal personal tubs! Something is wrong with this picture. I guess holding hands from your personal bed pans sounds romantic to someone. I just wish you would be struck by lightning.

Burning Wood

Nothing says please have sex with me better than two senile people attempting to cook over a gas stove. I guess the smell of burning flesh reminds you of her legs rubbing together or something. Oh look, you found out you can pull that little spray thing from off the sink and wet each other. It will be the only wetness going on that night, pill or no pill. How about using the water to put out the fire burning up your table cloth?

And the Barney award goes to….

I’ve been told the saddest sight is seeing a group of teenage boys playing live action dungeons and dragons in public on a Saturday night. If that is so then the next saddest sight is six middle aged men taking a pretty good song and turning it into a ballad about their inability to get one up.

I though having Fred Astaire dancing for vacuums was bad, but this just makes me cry inside. I can see your wife opening the garage door now and instead of finding you cleaning it out as you were told to, she finds a bunch of your friends singing about your deflated pecker and there is no liquor in sight. Now ask yourselves, do you really deserve sex?

Just use Tivo

Believe me. I understand that we all can have a problem performing. Some of my readers right now have a problem performing in bed and they are in their mid twenties. All I ask for is a channel where you can go if you really need to see a commercial telling you that at ninety you can still pound one out. On that channel we can have all those ads running twenty four hours a day. We can toss all the tampon and time-of-the-month commercials on there, too. I bet it will get higher ratings than Lifetime.

A Fourth of July Fireworks Story

4th of July

Gather round little children and I will tell you a tale. This story starts in the little city of Chicago, Illinois, the windy city, home of Al Capone and those awful Chicago Cubs. This is the story of little J.A. Laraque, well, honestly I was not little, neither in age or size. I was sixteen and had a pretty nice car and just wanted to celebrate our American Independence by lighting off some Chinese fireworks.

I started my morning at the same time I always did in the summer time, around four PM. After a punch bowl of Captain Crunch I decided to head out. I ran into my friend Hershel and we decided to stop at the local mom-and-pop shop to pick up nutritious goodness consisting of, Jolt Cola, Now-or-Later candies, hot and spicy Cheetos and some Slim Jims.
As we started to leave the lady behind the counter began looking at me strangely. At first I believed it was because I’m black, but this lady has known me for years. She calls me over like she was undercover doing spy work.

“You need the boom, boom?”

My eyes widened. Yes, she was Asian. Yes, her accent was strong and yes, when she said “boom, boom” my first thought was the prostitute scene from Full Metal Jacket. Before I could show her my Alabama black snake she pulled out a box of bottle rockets. I was pleasantly surprised and at the same time slightly saddened. The thought of a happy ending did sound really nice, but I guess having fireworks is a good runner up.

Having purchased about a hundred bottle rockets my friend and I headed down to the lake front. For those of you living in or near Chicago or if you love using Google Earth it was Montrose Beach on Lake Michigan. This beach was really just a bunch of large stones that lead to the water. There was a large concrete parking lot, great for setting off fireworks.
About an hour later we had gone through half of our fireworks. This was mostly because a good number of other people showed up and had much better fireworks than ours, so we spent a lot of time just watching them fire off theirs.
By now it was dark and I was ready to finish lighting the ones we had and going home when I saw a police car further down the beach with its lights on. This did not concern me because I have seen them checking for beer and drugs before, and since we had neither, I continued firing off the bottle rockets.

As I’m lighting a bottle rocket my friend starts staring behind me. I turned around to see the squad call barreling toward us at eighty miles an hour. The cop in the passenger seat gets out.

“Drop the contraband!”

I am not sure if it was my mind trying to remember what contraband was or his loud commanding voice, but I dropped the bottle rocket just as he ordered. Unfortunately, I was standing directly above my little plastic box that contained the remaining bottle rockets. No one noticed this for a few seconds until the entire box caught on fire.
The rockets’ red glare wasn’t bursting in the air; it was exploding in the box. The police office began yelling something I couldn’t understand and then pulled his gun out and pointed it at me. The bottle rockets continued to explode in the box and I was sure he was going to shoot me. My life flashed before my eyes… and it was boring.

Just as the second cop was exiting the car a bottle rocket shot out from the box. It flew directly past the fire cop causing him to jump backwards. A one in a million shot. The bottle rocket sailed inside the squad car and exploded in a colorful red, white and blue.

Something caught on fire inside. I saw the second officer grabbed what looked like his ticket book from inside the car and toss it on the ground. The first officer was pissed. He slammed me against the car and cuffed me.

We found ourselves in the back of the squad car which smelled of smoke and burnt tickets. Pulling away the officers joked about taking us down to the docks for some physical education. I wasn’t sure if they meant sex or a beating. Luckily, they just took us down to the Chicago Avenue and LaSalle Street police station.

We sat cuffed to desk for over an hour. Then they began questioning us. I never remembered being read our rights and they only wanted to know if we had any aliases. My friend told them his nickname was Salty Chocolate. It took them a few minutes before the realized it wasn’t a gang-related nickname.

With him being fourteen they called his mother and had her come and get him. As for me, since I was sixteen, they decided to make me suffer a little. Taking me to the back of the station they led me towards the holding cells. The guard asked me for my shoe laces and when I asked why he told me so I wouldn’t hang myself. I asked him if people normally hang themselves for shooting fireworks on the Fourth of July. He didn’t respond. Then I asked him could I keep them because I was way too big to hang myself with my three year old shoe laces. He said no.

After sitting in the cell for a while I really needed to drop the kids off at the pool. Since there was nobody in the cell with me or any of the adjacent cells I figured why not. The problem was there was no toilet paper. I asked the guard for some and he told me to use my socks. I told him I can’t use my socks because they are what I was going to use to hang myself. He didn’t say anything. Everyone knows you use socks when you don’t have tissue or toilet paper. This guard just wasn’t down with my comedic side and walked away. Since I wasn’t really that busy, I tried another jibe to test his sense of humor. I told him that the truth was that I usually masturbate every night around eleven PM and if I wasn’t out by then I would miss that date. No response. ‘Nuff said.

Sitting in that cell I kept getting a weird feeling that something was wrong… and by wrong I meant besides being in a holding cell for shooting fireworks on the Fourth of July, then the sunshine on my rainy day walked by. The guard handed me a baloney sandwich on white bread with no cheese or condiments. I assume the guard was trying to kill me with it because it was so dry. I told him that I didn’t need my shoe laces to hang myself I’d die of asphyxiation due to that awful sandwich.

When he opened the cell I thought that I had gone too far and now it was time for my beating. Instead he took me to a small room when a lady took my picture. A second later they lead me to a door I presumed would be the dungeon again. Instead, that door deposited me on the street. Before I could turn around, they shut and locked the door.  They never even wrote down my name or took my finger-prints, but I guess I was sexy enough for their private stash of photos. I felt violated, in a tingly sort of way.

It was three in the morning and I had a long, and I mean long, walk back to my car. It was about two hours before I arrived and then I remembered why I was feeling so weird. I had the door open when the police arrested us and it was never closed.

Arriving at the parking lot I was relieved to see the car was still there. What else was there was a bum fast asleep in my back seat. Again I lucked out it was not a stabbing bum and was able to coax him from my car by offering him some of that sandwich I stuffed into my pocket.

I thought that was pretty funny and I was happy that my car was fine, that was until I was driving away. The smell of urine is distinctive and awful. That damn bum had the last laugh. After that, there was nothing to do, but go home and try to forget that horrible Fourth of July. In the morning I’d check on Hershel.
I hope my pain has brought you some pleasure and God bless America.