*Un-hooks bra*

There's something I need to get off my chest.

To my fellows in Fort Collins, Lakewood and other regions, I finally got around to seeing the film Pineapple Express a few weeks ago. Going in, I was pumped. I had heard so many good things.

"It's just as good as super-bad!"

"I've died laughing so hard!"

"OMG. Seth Rogen is SOOO dreamy."

"Hmmmm," I thought. "Suppose I'll give it a shot." Undisclosed to me is why I didn't see it in the theaters with my friends.... and had the supposed guffaw-fest watching Seth Rogen and Franco Harris "stone" it out. And I digress, this film was supposed to do for pot what Superbad had done for alcohol. And I love pot!

It all begins with Rogen, a 20-something court order server, who drives around town smoking copious amounts of marijuana between deliveries. And when he's not smoking and serving, he's hanging out with his high school girlfriend! At first I think, "Alright! Someone I can relate to!" Rogen is depicted as an individual who can courier important documents while completely blazed...and still have the sense of mind to not get caught.

Yet as the story progresses, he transforms from a cannabis saint I wanted to idolize.... to a stereotypical paranoid prole; scared of his own shadow. What happened to his composure! Such a promising beginning, now I'm watching two routine reefer-heads running around the woods. It seems about 20 minutes into the movie, the original script was thrown out to make way for the Franco Harris Seth Rogen "comedic genius." Frustrating, disorganized, and circuitous conversations follow, which are hilarious if you're high! As the director probably was. (Oh btw Franco already had his moment in the comedic spotlight. Seen here.)



I have come to this conjecture: watching Pineapple Express without having gotten high first, is like watching a 3D movie without the 3D glasses.

Laughter is contagious. And I'm sure I would have enjoyed this more if there was a room full of adolescents telling me where the funny parts were. As appealing as the actors are, and as much as I rooted for the movie to come through, too often it didn't. This isn't a bad movie; it just could have been a lot better!

Another useless invention...

The only obstacle to jumping rope: the rope.

Solved!

Next up: Pantsless pants!

6 Degrees of Penetration

As I sit here nursing my swollen surgically operated shoulder, I am assimilated into the world of the handicapped. No more flailing and wiggling of my right meat-hook, instead getting raw with the southpaw style, yo Adrian!!! The past few weeks was spent ingesting as many pain killers as I can get my hands on, this means everything! Oxy's, percocet, and even the occasional ibuprofen. Pussy shit. As well as left handed operation of utensils: both writing and eating, out the window. So useless! I'm slowly being able to type with two hands so all hope is not lost. One of my biggest vices, giggling thinking about it, is now the duty of sinistral number 2. Porn is a good way to pass the time. As I have found. In fact! 2 undisclosed individuals (ehren & teegle) almost caught me in the act! I was so serious....the stern look of focus; not even a slight crack of a grin.

Getting situated to where I can rub one off is a cumbersome task in its own, yet all my free time has allowed for the viewing of many adult classics.

Lara Croft: Womb Raider

Snatch Adams

The Da Vinci Load

Cockodile Dundee

Shindler's Fist

Just to name a few.

If Sean Connery didn't land a role in 007, he could easily have done porn. I mean c'mon, look at him! A great build, hairy chest, and a mustache he just mustache you questions with. Along with an incredible intellect and wit. Jap Anus relations. Anal bum cover. The penis mightier!

Starfish Hitler!

Uh....Dictator from hell.

First friday of the month...

You know what that means! Ah hell nah wassup dawg? It's me, the infamous Hout Trout.
As I am hoisted into the blog spot universe, I'd like to take some time and introduce myself. If you don't already know me, I suppose you will eventually. I'm the glitch modulator, debt consolidator, tater of the nater (tot). Take me seriously! It's impossible. The one dude you'll never meet on the internet, if you're lucky! My inter-workings and most complicated thoughts and ideas, as labyrinthine and tortuous as they may seem...will penetrate you like a 13 inch PVC pipe into the swelling orifice of Amiel's grandmother. Madonna said it best, Touched for the very first time!

For a while I was debating whether to make this blog an artsy collection of bubbling baloney, oozing out of every porous sentence. (Oh, and not to mention those artsy fartsy pictures than I can't seem to find on the internet anywhere but blog sites.) As much as feel a faint connection to the softer side, that isn't me. C'mon who cares about feelings? I am hardly a serious person. With this I give you: Fellation Nation. Get ready to rumble! A bigger fiasco than the HAITIAN EARTHQUAKE!

Let's start on how I got the title, "Hout Trout." Don't ask me how I got this silly nickname. It was that faggot kid on the bus who thought it was ingenious idea to blend my last name with an equally unoriginal animal that rhymes with it. Fuckin' thing sucks! But I digress...it stuck. And here I am. One man. One dream. One destiny.

I would say that I have an uncanny ability to turn any one liner phrase into a long standing overdone inside joke that will stand the test of time. It is my gift, it is my curse.

We'll see if I can keep up on this Blogthingeroo. Stay tuned!