Wednesday, June 30, 2010

My friends, Jordan Grout and Shao Tam

I'm positive everyone out there has that 
one friend of which you're simultaneously ashamed and proud. You know: the dweeb who laughs a little too hard at dead baby jokes while in a Babies R Us. We know they are weird, we know they are loveable. We know that they are really fucking awkward. And we keep them around for a myriad of reasons. I happen to have such a friend. Well may you be surprised. LOL.

His name is Jordan Grout and he is an Irish piece of shite. Now, Jordan is one of the categories of Guys Who Go by Their Middle Name. You know, the quasi-douche M.O. "I think my name is so boring, so I'll go by my more interesting middle name. It works on chicks."

I know several of these guys, and while lovely in of themselves, I can't help but not take them wholly seriously, and I giggle at them, sometimes to their faces. Jordo claims he moved from Ireland as a toddler, but I know otherwise. They kicked him out. The Irish forcibly removed Jordan from their country because he's a gigantic asshole. Even as a baby. Now, when I met Jordo, he was going through his Cave-Man phase. 

He was creepy. He was hairy. He sat in the corner of our poetry class and made weird commentary which was amusing only to him. And yet, in spite of that, we became friends. To this day, I have yet to find a redeeming quality besides his ability to turn into Caveman Jordo. We've never had any adventures or journeys that seem to be a staple to enduring friendships. What we've had instead is mutual, irreverent sense of humor. I, of course, am far superior and better at pretty much everything. But I keep Jordan around for a basis for comparison. Also, he introduced me to Brian Peppers. How can you not keep that person around?? He laughs like a baying hyena, which is a great hobo-deterrent.

There have been legends told in the San Fernando Valley of this creature, this Jordan Grout. I mean, with a name like "Grout" how can one not make up wild (and mostly true) tall tales? I once heard Jordo wrestled a rabid Joan Rivers after a plastic surgery session went south. It has been said he managed to subdue the Wild Rivers with his crappy Irish teeth, peed on her to counteract the acidic stinging venom spurting from her eyeballs and hog-tied her to a Hummer; the city of Westwood gave him a medal—which he promptly laughed at and smelted into a chastity belt. He wears it to this day.

Another redeeming quality Jordo has is his buddy, Shao Tam. Jordan, in a moment of pure spite and genius, decided to give my phone number to this tubby Asian fuck whom I'd never met (and have yet to meet in person to this day) who promptly began to harass me. Daily. And even sometimes at 2 AM. "Tits"… no joke.

Shao Tam is diry and wrong and inappropriate. And Asian. I have a sneaking suspicion he listens to disco music dressed in shiny spandex a la Richard Simmons. From what I understand of Shao Tam the Wortheless Hobo is that he is some kind of chef in a crappy restaurant in Glendale, CA. Why they would let this monster filled with volatile gases near anything served to other human beings is quite beyond my comprehension. But as long as he's not near my food, I can sit back from a comfortable distance and laugh. And I do. A lot.

Seeing as I've never met this fuck in person, I find it only appropriate to make up some things about him for my amusement.

  1. Shao Tam wears shiny spandex and listens to disco.
  2. Shao Tam is retarded.
  3. Mullet.
  4. He has Pant-Weasels.
  5. Shao Tam was the inspiration for Jabba the Hut. 


Well folks. That's all you're getting. I will leave you with Brian Peppers time:

1 comment:

  1. I find your description of Jordo 100% accurate and well researched. You failed to mention, however, that Shao Tam's breasts are larger than yours and mine put together, and he cuts his own hair at home with a Flowbee.