Deep Thoughts by White Kong

Given that White Kong has side stepped his way into the mensa category as far as IQs go, I find his deep thoughts rather compelling and a bit contradictory.

With the help of my sister, Emily, I have gathered a couple of conversational snippets surrounding the following topics: food and chicks. These topics, of course, consume at least 70% of male brain capacity. White Kong, evidently, is not all that much different. He is also obsessed with Rhianna.

White Kong on Food

the scene: White Kong chats with Emily on Sunday afternoon via google chat.

For the last five years, my sister Emily has been seeking hard evidence that White Kong is, in fact, not straight. I am not certain where this burning desire has come from, but she is convinced that one day White Kong will be clipping along at her side to help her decide between Oliver Peoples and Tory Burch shades:

Emily: our brother is for sure gay

3:10 PM
me: why

Emily: he said that he has perfected his crepe making techniques

and then said: jill loves to ruin potentially good stuff with her horrible tastes;
case and point: loaves of banana bread made today were tainted with nuts
they were thus rendered inedible.

Then he said this: my crepe prowess is unstoppable

me: wow, are you saving this as documentation?

Emily: then I asked: how were the lasagna rolls?

he said: theyre probably gonna suck- jill fucking put spinach in them.

me: i mean....

3:12 PM
Emily: oh and this too: Me: father of the bride is on!! WK: what movie is that - cus im in the mood for a tom hanks meg ryan duet.

me: he said that?!?

3:13 PM Emily: yes

Do I think Emily's beliefs are just a bit unfounded? Yes... I mean, just because White Kong enjoys whipping up french pastries does not render him a homosexual. He was also pretty adamant that he does not like nuts, nor was he certain of the contents of Father of the Bride.

White Kong on Chicks

the scene: 10 pm EST White Kong chats with Emily's 21 year old roommate, Amanda, via google chat.

amanda: WK do you like bcbg dresses?

WK: which line

amanda: wow you are so gay... max azria duh

WK: well in that case i guess they're not too bad, a little pricey but you can't really get past that

amanda: its okay you can redeem yourself at prom with kitsi if you know what i mean

WK: you want me to hit it and quit it

amanda:YES!
WK: despite this little 18 year dry spell, ill do my bestfor you, at least

Later on, Emily got in on the action... never did it occur to her how mentally disturbing it is to hear one's 17 year old brother utter the phrase: hit it or quit it:

Emily: are you going to make out with kitsi after prom

WK: oh, of course

Emily: reallly??? damn Kong!
WK: well duh, im not spending 100 bucks on this bitch and not getting at least a little lip
After reading this, I was not sure whether I should laugh, cry or be impressed by WK's grasp of his dry spell reality and decision to take some very concrete action steps toward hooking some lip. Was my sunburned little brother who could say his alphabet backwards in 37 seconds at 16 months (thus giving my mother Aspbergers paranoia) really capable of hitting it?
I much prefer to picture White Kong in intense gaming mode instead of working on his game. I guess he listens to too much Rhianna lately.
In any case, I have documented both of these conversations as burdens of proof against Emily's allegations about WK's sexuality. I also would prefer not to hear Rude Boy by Rihanna.

"We could have NBA babies together"

In lieu of the NBA play offs and the onslaught of ads for Jennifer Lopez's assinine new movie about getting herself artificially preggers because her clock's a ticking ( the first time I saw the ad, I thought she had been impregnated "knocked up" style; I was a little intrigued that her G in the flick had decided to stick around as the surrogate baby daddy), it is only fitting that I write about one of the more disturbing things a guy has ever said to me.

About a month or so ago, I met this seemingly normal guy at a local watering hole. There wasn't anything particularly special about him, but, in a sea of creepers, he seemed like a safe choice so I started talking to him. Once I found out he could speak in complete sentences, I convinced myself to give him my number. I mean, we had a few things in common as we were both from the same state and had a mutual friend with whom I had gone to high school. He also worked in some supply chain management job that somehow yielded free cereal and breakfast bars. I love love cereal. And so, for a moment, I thought that maybe this could be a start of something great. Nothing would thrill me more than having unlimited access to honey nut cheerios.

As it happened, Cereal had friends in town the entire next week, but persisted to text me to check in and to arrange a date for the following Tuesday. He was starting to grow on me a little. Especially since he had boasted having far too many free cereal products. It was obvious he wanted to adorn me with them.

Come Friday, Cereal called to see what I was up to that night. As it happened, I was already at a happy hour on Mexican Restaurant's patio chilling with Boozehound and other assorted friends. While Boozehound restrained himself from mauling Margarita soaked limes, I casually told Cereal that maybe we could meet up later.

Following the happy hour, Julie and I ended up alone (never a good combination as we will inevitably lose each other and end up bar hopping with strangers or getting a ride home in a tow truck, whichever happens first). Around 1 am, after we had exhausted our very favorite bar, American Junkie, I ceded to Cereal's advances for my presence: "come hang out! I'll buy you girls drannks"... really? Dranks? I wasn't going to judge. This was during a phase in my life where I was working on not being so rude about people.

Once we entered Cereal('s) bar, I had a split second of panic that I would not recognize him. I have terrible facial recognition. Fortunately, I remembered that he was really tall and was not exactly Jillian Michael's brother. He also spotted me immediately and engaged me in some really mature conversation about how he was taking a GMAT class. Like I really cared about that. Fortunately, my mother taught me manners and I know how to feign interest in just about anything.

And then, all of a sudden, he paused looked at me and said, "wow, you are really tall!" Seriously, I thought, you just realized this. You know, i really do not understand why people do this. I never walk up to midgets and say "gee, you are really short" or, worse yet, "wow, you look like a midget". That's just rude. But I guess I don't understand a lot of things. Like, for instance, why Justin Beiber and Miley Cyrus are not in love. Or why people pay money to go to Jennifer Lopez movies.

Just as I was laughing it off he said it, "yeah, you know, we could have NBA babies together." Good thing it was dark because I am very certain that I swallowed my greyhound down the wrong tube.

What an awkward thing to say. First of all, you do not say that to some random girl you have met at a dark bar twice. Secondly, you have got to have a lot of nerve to think that I am going to jump on it and spawn a chid with you. Especially an NBA baby. There is no guarantee that child will actually have a successful basketball career just because it is tall. And if it does not, it is just, well, tall. Most importantly, why would I voluntarily get knocked up?

I ended up blowing off the statement and meeting up with him again the next night. Once again, I was working on my personality. Unfortunately, he said it again. If I could turn back time, I would have told him my tubes are already tied. I also did not want my child to look like Steve Nash.

Instead, I simply bid adieu and said give me a call before Tuesday, the day of the previously proposed date. The following day he texted me to make small talk and I responded with more small talk. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

And then Tuesday rolled around. I figured he would call me on his lunch to confirm a meeting time and place, but there was no call. This struck me as weird because: a) I had gone out of my way and restrained myself from making him feel stupid about making creeper comments and b) did he not want to have NBA babies with me anymore?

I called Julie and Jen, both of whom who had met Cereal. Both of them thought that something must have happened. I mean, it was kind of eerie. Usually when you blow someone off you have the decency to make up some lame excuse like, for instance, that your pet rabbit is having a seizure or that you have a urinary tract infection. It's common courtesy.

As it happens, I never heard from Cereal again. I do, however, have some theories: a) he is in a coma after getting hit in the head with a cereal bar or b) ran away to Burbank to be an extra in Jennifer Lopez's The Back up Plan or c) he found this blog.