What's in a hobby?

It’s been a long time since the Juice answered emails. The last time was way back when. It’s not like I’m not inundated with emails. God forbid I not get one once in awhile. The Juice has just been too busy to answer them. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. I’ll get to it sooner or later. However, since my Black Friday post, I’ve been gettin' a ton of email from tough guys like, Footballrulez69, that go a little like this:

The juice, what kind of man are u? u still play with toys? legos? what's the matter with you? those things are for kids. when you gonna grow up?


Well, Footballrulez69 (and the rest of ya’s), the Juice would normally tell ya to go fuck yourself. And say things like: “Who the fuck are you to judge the Juice? What do you do that’s so great? Troll for porn non-stop ‘cause secretly ya hate women? Or do you do thousands of push-ups to impress that chick that didn’t want to have anythin’ to do with ya in High School?” But, today, I'll keep my trap shut. I guess the Juice has the Christmasfucktackulas spirit energizin’ ‘im. So, I’m gonna indulge ya, Footballrulez69 (and the rest of the Juice’s distracters for that matter), this once.


The short answers to your questions, Footballrulez69, are: Horny. No. Yes. Where do I start? And never. Now, the long answers? Well…I ain't sure what the long answers might be. The Juice’s court appointed shrink used ta say that the Juice didn’t get enough huggins as a kid. The Juice is here to tell ya, I still don’t get enuf huggins. And by huggins, I mean handjobs.

I can't tell ya how many times I've heard in my life "When ya gonna grow up?" My ol' man said it so many times, I thought it was some sort of mediation mantra. See, my ol’ man is a mechanical genius. He can put a car together drunk off his ass, with both eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back. I’ve seen him chop down a tree and build an entertainment center out of it, in 6 hours time. The Juice? I couldn’t change the oil on a car if you were behind me practically yellin’ at me what to do. Now that the Juice considers it, that’s exactly what the ol’ man did.

But, I digress…


My ol’ man had a theory. A theory of toys, if you will. It’s not as profound as say, Einstein’s Theorem of the Addition of Velocities Employed in Classical Mechanics, but he swore by it as scientific law. The ol’ man's theory goes like thus: As a kid, ya started playin’ with Lincoln Logs, then ya progress to Lego, then you progress to Erectors set. And then you became a mechanical genius. Bet ya can’t guess where the Juice got stuck. If you were to ask my ol’ man, that in a nutshell is my problem. The Juice never progressed beyond the Lego stage of life.

Now, you may say the Juice has an unhealthy compulsion for children's playthings. Or that I’m emotional stunted. And more than likely both those statements are true. However, the Juice likes to spin it that I’m in touch with my inner child. The inner child that never got a decent dang thing for Christmas. Ever. How many Erector sets can ya play with? Where’s the imagination in that? I’ll tell ya, it ain’t in Erector set, that's for dang sure.

It turns out it’s comeuppance time for the Juice and his inner child is goin’ to town. Believe you me, there are much better things the Juice would rather be in touch with. Like Jennifer Love Hewitt’s sweet ass. But, whatya gonna do?


Enuf about the Juice, though. Let’s talk about Footballrulez69 (and the rest of ya emailin’ cowards). How’s about we examine what you’re into? Judgin’ by your handle, I’m sure ya like to watch sports. I gotta tell ya, there ain’t nothin’ more productive than watchin’ other dudes, who get payed zillions of dollars a year, chase a ball around. And knowin’ Mike Scrotum’s battin’ average from 1970 is soooo manly. I bet that gets ya laid a lot. Knowin' how many receptions Lydell Mitchell had in 1974 ain’t a complete waste of time (It’s 72, by the way. Look it up yourself. Make sure you use Blingo, though). Now, if you’re playin’ sports, the Juice can almost respect that. Almost. At least you’re actually doin’ somethin’. But the Juice can’t respect golf. Sorry. Complete. Waste. Of. Time. But, even if you are playin’ some sort of sport, besides golf, aren’t ya just playin’ a kids game? How you like the Juice now? You got nuts makin’ fun of the Juice.

What other “hobbies” are there? How about those cats that are into cars. Oh, that’s not too compulsive, now is it? How many times can ya rebuild a fuckin' carburetor? At least you ain’t watchin’ cars go round in circles. Man, after 5 minutes of NASCAR, you end up a dribblin’ idiot.

How about watchin’ TV? Might as well kiss your brain goodbye.

Surfin the Internet? How long does it take ya to get off lookin’ at porn these days? Do the words "desensitized" mean anything to ya.

Gamblin’? Talk about a waste of money. Oh, sure, you’re gonna hit it big. Eventually…

Dudes that buy tools? How many different screw drivers do ya need? Oh, and by the way…buyin’ tools is the same thing as buyin’ toys. That’s why they call Home Depot the toy store for adults.

Nudie bars? As much as I love the thought of a naked chick, payin’ to be teased is not only is a waste of money, but just reeks of desperation. At least with a hooker, ya get somethin’ out of it. The Juice says, stick to the internet.

Collectin’ shit? C’mon! What? Like coins? Or rubberbands? Or vacuum cleaners. Yes, vacuum cleaners.

How about religion? Don’t even get me started. Two words: Kook E

So you see, Footballrulez69, all hobbies are basically unhealthy manifestations of your inner obsessions. Sure, I enjoy what ya might consider childish things. But, ya know what? The Juice don’t really care what ya’all think. I only pretended that I cared. I had a post to write. I guess I just could’ve saved myself a whole lotta time and just said…go fuck yourself.