billyhoush.com

What can I say about my bro; Sergio? He’s a little, dirty Peruvian wonder that lurks in the steel factories at night and sleeps on top of mushrooms by day.

Sergio, or Chico as my father christened him, was befriended after I purchased him at the airport to carry my luggage. Apparently, Peruvians are cheaper than a Chinese massage here.

Chico and I just got back from an intense trip to Kyoto and Osaka using the local trains. We came back home with bloody feet from all the walking but we learned a lot from the experience. I’m going to make some posts soon with photos highlighting the lessons learned.

Anyways, listen to part one of the Cholo Chronicles and find out who the real Sergio is.

 

 Cholo Chronicles Pt.1: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

I am actually really proud that I didn’t pussy out of this one. I’ll give myself a pat on the back for being a trooper.

I always wanted to do stand up but never had the balls or focus to continue trying at it. I’m so glad I went through with that open mic even though I had nothing prepared. It wasn’t anything special but at least it motivated me to do more because, damn, that was fun.

And here is the footage of that fateful night. Try to count how many times I introduce myself and how many jokes I seem to set up but don’t give punch lines. I was a babbling drunk but I did it!!! YAY!

My sister needed me to baby sit my nephew for 2 hours. I thought it would be ok but once she left he started to cry like a little bitch. I tried my best to distract him but nothing worked until I got him in front of the laptop.

Anyways, I’m getting ready for my big trip to Kyoto and Osaka this weekend. I’m heading off tomorrow morning. I’m stoked.

Here’s the first episode of Tardcast. It’s basically Tristan and I bitching about our college days and how much we suck at life. It also sounds a bit chopped and skewed because of the shitty flash player. Downloading it sounds better. Whatever man, just listen. They’ll be a new episode each week and it’s going to be super awesome! Enjoy.

 

 Pilot Tardcast Episode 1 [27:54m]: Play Now | Play in Popup | Download

I finally decided to make a flyer for the international community board downtown to advertise private lessons. I went all out by using a ridiculous photo of myself taken during the Roots Reggae Music Festival.

My sister double-dog dared me to post it up so we can see what types of people would respond to it. When I went to the center to get it approved the dude said it’s awesome and it’s going to get tons of people. I couldn’t hold back my laughter.

I remember last year I made a crap posting on lined paper and I had one student. She kept bringing me food but would hang around too long after the lessons which really annoyed me. What the hey! I hope I can find some great people and make some money.

Here’s a link (1.3mb) to the high resolution poster. I hope you print it out and stick it up in public places even though the telephone number is a Japanese cell phone. Oh thee well.

My good buddy, Keybow, invited me to the Roots Reggae Music Festival in Hamakita. We had a great time, even though, we ended up getting lost and arriving at the very end of the festival.

It was raining a lot during the day and by time we got there it was dark and the ground was covered in thick mud. Kind of like Woodstock but with much lamer hippies that don’t speak English.

I made the mistake of wearing sandals so I ended up walking barefoot in the mud. It felt really gross. Like I was walking through a big shit pile for almighty Jah.

Luckily, we found a public restroom to wash my feet and sandals in the sink. I did a really thorough job cleaning them shits off because I knew it would freak out Keybow if I messed up his Benz interior. Jah forbid!

Anyways, both Keybow and I were pleased with our adventure into the woods and were very uplifted during the experience. Even though his car had a navi, we not only got lost on the way there, but also on the way back. Monkey balls!

Here’s a great video clip of what really went on in the washroom.
Warning: Not cruisy.

It took me over 2 years but I finally did it. I did stand up comedy in Japan. It all started when I got news of an amateur open mic night at the Australian bar, DownUnder, downtown. It was a benefit for Haitian kids or some shit so I decided to do it.

All of the acts were musical except for me and I couldn’t think of any jokes so I decided not to prepare anything. I almost didn’t show up but I got off my ass and biked to the show. There was a mix of Japanese folk, English teachers, and some other folk who study at the University.

I was drunk and self deprecating. It felt great once I finished and was quite the experience. I’ll post the video as soon as I get it.

Independence is a great thing. It’s a part of growing up. The speed in which you take this step into adulthood all depends on your upbringing and environment. Enter pussy boy:

I’m a 23 year old male and yesterday was the first day in my life that I cooked and prepared all of my meals -by myself. I know that’s hard to believe or utterly pathetic and embarrassing but it’s unfortunately true.

I have been surviving off of boxed lunches from connivence stores and left overs from my sister’s fridge for the past two years. Before that I got away with relying on roommates to cook and subway submarine sammiches.

So I guess you could call me a late bloomer, a poppycock, or an old fashion man brought up by an old fashion mother; a man whose been made dependent on women.

Monkey making the money for monkette to make the babies and spend. That’s how shit still goes here in Japan. So I said fuck it and made myself curry:

Recently, on the island of nippon, we had a massive earthquake and a goddamn typhoon before that.

Now, I don’t know if it’s all related, but, uh, my entire apartment was infested with ants. I guess they were trying to seek refuge inside my Wii because there sure as hell isn’t any food in this place. Anyways, I went to the drug store to pick up some ant traps and sprays when I decided to venture off into the vitamin and supplement section. I guess I wanted to look for new and crazy energy drinks to replace the imaginary coke habit I wish I could afford.

…and low and behold I spotted this beside the creatin:

It was around thirty bucks and I doubt it really works. However, I’d like to experiment. What if I could have my own set of hairy man boobs? I could finally fill out that bikini top and not feel embarrassed chilling at the beach. Maybe guys will notice me and disregard my shitty personality.

Only one can wonder.

Face the facts: I’m an intellectual and you’re a goddamn philistine!

It boils down to that. When you’re put in this position, either you take the rings and work these niggers or you fuck off and snob out with other so called smart people. I have some sort of bleeding heart and take shit too personally to fuck over them folks.

Before all the gay drugs I didn’t even think that way. I had zero emotional intelligence. I didn’t constantly put myself into other people’s shoes. Who the fuck cares? I was so happy fucking people and from all I know they were happy to be fucked.

Wha’ happen?

The drugs and the queer conversations with peoples over coffee messed me up. I used to hang out with people who didn’t discuss their feelings. People who just fucking did what they wanted to do and didn’t throw a goddamn press conference.

Stop thinking. Keep learning and start doing. Life’s too short to masturbate.