Shit that People Say to Me

If I were to say that 2 thoughts run through my mind all day, you’d probably say, “Duh, sex and food.” And you’d be right. So let me rephrase that…I whisper 2 things to myself all day, everyday:

  1. What the fuck?
  2. That’s what she said

I’d like to dedicate this post to the Big #2…you can bet your sweet ass that the pun was intended. I’m sure you’re asking yourselves how it’s possible to say “that’s what she said” once or twice a week, much less all day long. Well, friends, what follows are quotes over the last few days. Simply append “that’s what she said” after every line and you’ll see what my days are like. Again, none of these are made up…this is actual shit that people say to me


  • All the way up, all the way down or it doesn’t count
  • If it’s too hard, spread them apart
  • I’m excited about my snatch
  • Just don’t stare at it
  • Exhale before you go down
  • Lower, lower, lower….There it is!
  • That looks like it’s going to hurt
  • Is it supposed to hurt?
  • My ass hurts
  • There’s not enough – tag team it
  • There’s too many – tag team it
  • Wanna tag team it?
  • No rep

Trying to pay the lady for breakfast

  • You went too early…
  • I mean…you went too fast
  • Wow…you don’t hear that too much in the morning, do you?

TSN agent while going through Airport Security

  • Gonna have to pat you down, you’re alarming between your legs

Trying to pay the lady for beverages for a team meeting

  • Put it in the bottom
  • Pull it out

The Office

  • It’s too hot, it’s too big
  • It’s too much – pull it out
  • If you wanna pull out for nickels and dimes, fine
  • While you’re pulling that up, I gotta say I’m impressed
  • All day, all night! That’s what I like!
  • Wow, that’s more than I thought
  • Are you sure you’re doing it right?
  • Here, let me show you what I need
  • Can you finish in 30 minutes? I have somewhere to be
  • Won’t be the first time I didn’t finish
  • You had a good 5 minute end

While messaging with friends

  • I’ll screen shot it for you
  • It feels weird in my mouth
  • Damn

Talk about sensory overload! It’s amazing that I can even function throughout the day. This just goes to show my absolute resolve to fit in with normal society. Actually, it doesn’t work; I can never fit in. Normalcy can suck it.

You’re welcome, Cyberspace

Zombies and Walkers and The Undead! Oh my!

A few years ago I had a revelation. Something that didn’t exactly rock my core, but something that I was not prepared for or even realized had happened. My ass was not ready for the zombie apocalypse.

We all watch the movies and the rare intellects read books (comics included). We see mistakes the hero makes throughout as drama unfolds. We make bets on who’s dying next. We yell at the screen when ridiculous decisions are made. We are the experts. We know how to defend our land. We know to aim for the head.

It’s all bullshit.

When we watch movies or read books about zombies, we’re thinking about the confrontation – fighting those undead bastards to the death. We even know which weapon we’d choose and rationalize our strategic plans. This is bullshit. That fight doesn’t last long and I’m sure you win. Now what? Where do you find food? How to take care of medical problems? How do you charge your phone so you can post selfies?

Let me take you back to a ball kicker of a summer day in hot ass Texas. Though I love this Great State, it’s fucking hot here. Because I was blessed with good looks that can only be matched by my charming personality, God saw it fit that I drive shitty cars. I’m not gonna tell the make and model of this crap can with wheels…but let’s just say that it rhymes with “Bevrelet Bequinox” – a picture of which can be found here.

On this hot ass day, my shit can with tires decided it’d be a great time for the AC to go out. Most of you are thinking that this is merely a first-world-problem. Normally, I’d agree..and you all know since my domestication, I’m softer than a kitten lying on a down pillow. But listen to me friends, this is HOT ASS TEXAS. No one can survive a full summer of triple digit heat and ride around in a sealed soup can. $1,500 to repair the AC. My shitty Chevy was worth $1,200.

So I found a Mexican.

A Mexican is the Swiss-Army-Knife of people. They can clear out a landing, build a brick fire pit, make patio furniture, plant a garden, then make you lunch from scratch so you can enjoy it all. They are some handy mother fuckers; I love the Mexicans. Now, lets pause here…I can hear some of you saying, “Famous Ray, aren’t you Mexican?”  No, bitches. I’m from California.

So, my Mexican has me purchase a thing. He then has me help with the installation of said thing. It’s 114 degrees. We’re in a make shift garage, undoubtedly that he built. He has more tools than AutoZone and knows how to use them all. He is as glorious as he greasy. As I lay sweltering under my crap can with my sweaty balls dragging to the ground, it hits me: I DON’T HAVE SKILLS.

We’re not talking about skills in the work place…no, friends…we’re talking about shit-hitting-the-fan-and-we-need-to-sustain-life type of skills. As I lay in heat induced delirium, I take inventory of what I’m bringing to the table:

  1. Farming? Nope
  2. Canning? I’m not sure that’s even science
  3. Ranching? I fucking hate horses. They’re bad for the balls
  4. Carpentry? This is why I hire the Mexicans
  5. Radio Operations? Is it “HAM” like the food or “HAND” like the Ninja Turtles’ enemy? Either way, it’s a “no”
  6. Automotive? This is why I’m sweating my balls off
  7. Electrical? Did I even spell that right?
  8. Medical? If I run out of ibuprofen, I’m all out of tricks
  9. CrossFit? I can lift heavy shit and move it fast…sounds handy
  10. Procreation? This is it. I found my calling. I can learn this. I need to survive to repopulate the planet!

That scorching summer day was over 2 years ago, my friends. I’m happy to report after all that time I have a new car with great AC – I’ll never drive a Chevy again. As far as developing skills, I have dedicated myself to continually reading the Kama Sutra and watching studying porn – I take my responsibility seriously. I stand ready to father a new generation. Now I need to find a team that can keep me alive long enough to do it – That’s what she said.

You’re welcome, cyberspace.

He’s Back: The Interview

It’s been 3 years, 7 months and 27 days since the cyber-world heard from Famous Ray. We heard rumors, if only whispers, of what he’d become and where he’d gone. Some say he won the lotto, moving to a private island. Others insist he retired to Florida where he will cast the winning ballot in our upcoming election. A select few believe he’s become a spiritual guru living off the hard work of others while wearing only a thong and participating in ritual cleansings consisting of interpretive dance and organic smoothies.

Like the rest of the world, I was not only concerned, but obsessed with what happened to this iconic figure. Hell bent, I put my amateur stalking of skills to work. All of my energies were focused into this single act. To my surprise, he was easy to locate.

Seeing this legend among men was more than intimidating and elation could not properly express my feelings. Summoning all the liquid courage I could afford, I set out to speak with him. What follows is my exclusive interview with Famous Ray:

Rey Zass:  Excuse me, Mr. Ray? Oh, it is you! It’s a real honor, I can’t believe this is happening!  Where have you been?!

Famous Ray: Thank you, random fan. I love you back. Have we met?

RZ: Oh no, I’m sorry. My name is Rey Zass. I’m your biggest fan!

FR: Doubtful, but I do like the name [he jots down a note]

RZ: I’m sorry to bother and I don’t want to take up too much of your time. I was wondering if I could ask some questions? You know, something to take back to the fans. We all miss you.

FR: You bet your ass you do. I don’t know how you’ve been getting along without me for so long. I leave for a bit and look what’s happened. North Korea has nuclear power. Nelson Mandela is dead. We have an Ebola break out. The Greek Depression hits. It could have all been avoided had I just been writing. I shoulder the blame for the downturn of the world. Just look at the jack turds running for president. [Whispers, “I’m sorry America” to himself].

RZ: You really believe it’s your fault?

FR: Abso-fucken-lutely. Think about it. How often was I writing? In the end I mean? Just a few here and there. It was enough to keep the world in balance. You see, when I was writing heavily, nothing was happening. No famine. No world chaos. But we didn’t have any progress either. The world was wrapped up in my life. I was the original Kim and Kanye. So, I decided to taper down. Let the government function, let economies flourish, let other writers catch a break. I took it down a notch or two. I let anticipation build. This way people had to find something to occupy their time until my next post. When I walked away, people had nothing to live for – poor, poor Nelson.

RZ: Whoa. I never put it all together like that. You’re amazing.

FR: I know, right? But I digress. You came to ask questions. Ask way, and let me say, you are a good looking man. You must squat.

RZ: Well, I have just 1 question. But I did bring some others from your biggest fans. The question I want answered more than anything is what happened to you? Where did you go? I thought I was going to find you naked, frail, with long gangling hair and 10-inch finger nails. But here you are – mostly naked, fittish, with nicely groomed hair, and manscaped for a Friday night. I mean, you look delicious as ever. What happened, why did you stop?

FR: Imagine the thing you hold dearest in your life. Something you truly cherish. I’m not talking about money, or true love, or kids. That’s crap. I want you to think about what really gets you going. The one thing that you do just for you. Completely unashamed, unabashed. What you know you were born to do  and you chase it with reckless abandon. It might be writing. Could be singing, dancing, performing, scripting, painting, drawing. Whatever it may be, imagine it being put in a bag, set on fire, stomped into the ground, then its ashes pissed on. That’s what happened. Life happened. I had set out to the change the world then world set out to make me pay bills. I felt as if I were a flying monkey set to do the Wicked Witch’s bidding. Or maybe like my only purpose in life was to build pyramids or a Sphinx, asking my master, “Do you want a bushy tail with that or shaved?”

RZ: Isn’t that kinda racist?

FR: Bro. You just can’t go around asking monkeys how they feel about their race. It’s not their fault they were born with wings. No unicycle; they can’t collect coins. Be happy the witch took them in – scary bastards.

Where was I? I guess in short, my mojo was lacking. I had let life get in the way of my gift and my awesomeness was lost. It was if all my creativity had dispersed; floating unto the world. But that’s not what happened. My mojo was actually buried deep inside [motions to his genitals]. It’s still here [again motioning to his genitals]. And it may be time to whip it out.

[awkward silence]

RZ: Well, I just have a couple of questions from another loyal fans. Juan G wants to know your favorite girl pop singer and why?

FR: I’m going to let you in a little secret. I’m a bit artsy-fartsy. I love artists. Those truly passionate about their craft. As you look upon my past greatness, you need to know that every post was written while I was listening to Avril Lavigne. She doesn’t have the pure vocal talent of a Whitney Houston or a Celine Dion. She doesn’t have the same appeal as Britney or Christina. But she puts everything she has out on display and I applaud that – doing what she loves and flipping double birds in the face of the nay sayers. Saying, “Suck it world! I’m her and you will hear me!” Her early work is a bit edgy, and I like it, but when she sold out to pop, well that’s where the magic happened.

RZ: Juan G had 1 more question. I think he may be having marriage problems based on this last one: To pee or not to pee in the shower.

FR: I can honestly say that there is no good reason not to pee in the shower. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t condone peeing in a pool, public or otherwise. This is the shower we’re talking about. The shower and shitter are arguable the most comfortable spaces in one’s home – when you’re at that level of relaxation isn’t the obvious choice to let go of it all? Namely pee?

RZ: God, I’ve missed you. I really appreciate you talking with me. Is there anything you want me to take back to your fans? They really miss you and it’d mean more than you will ever know. Just a message from you can change lives.

FR: A message? Tell them this: He’s Back