Tag Archives: Sears style

Annie P. turns 30. Or 90.

4 Aug

Hey y’all. Annie here. Don’t let them there lasers stop your eyeballs from seeing my super-awesome-acid-wash-birthday-outfit. See, I woke up on the day of turning the big 3-0 and at first I was all sad.  Thinkin’ this was the beginning of the end. 30 just seemed so dang old! But then my girlfriend Susie said, ‘Annie, get your dang acid wash romper on and let’s go down to the Glamour shots in the galleria. No more birthday poutin’ for ya!’

So this is me all glamoured up and sittin’ pretty on my 30. Wait a minute, I’m blocking the 3, so people might think I’m turnin’ 90. Dang. That’s a big bummer y’all. But I guess the upside is, instead of people sayin’ ‘you look old for 30,’ they may be thinkin’, ‘whew, she looks good for 90.’ And I guess that ain’t that bad.

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Annie P, 30, Harleyville, NC.


Roger Stevens and Tunafish Jones

12 Apr

I moved to Los Angeles in 1995. Came all the way from Ogallala, Nebraska on a Greyhound bus that smelled like sweat socks and sauerkraut. My mom always said I had a super sense of smell. Like Spidey sense. Good nose or bad nose, never did understand why they don’t have no rules ’bout what you can and can’t eat on a bus. ‘Specially if you’re goin’ to be sitting on it for 4o hours straight! Not to mention I sat next to an old man that farted his way right across America. No joke!

Anyways, came here to be a star. Everyone at home said I looked like that guy from The Greatest American Hero, so I shined my boots and hit the streets of Hollywood lookin’ for my big break.

Seemed that break I was lookin’ for was a sneaky SOB, so after my savings from workin’ at the Burger King back home dried up, I had to get myself a J-O-B!  PS. Don’t tell nobody, I know I worked at the Burger King and all, but I think that the Grimace is one cool mofo.  I know if there was an arm wrestlin’ match between The King and my man Grimace, I think we all know who would win. Right?!

So I get myself a job at a place called  Feel Da Vibrationz on Melrose Boulevard. Sold all kinda cool crystal necklaces and glass pipes for smokin’ the wacky tobacky. Anyways, one day I was workin’ at FDV (that’s what us guys who worked there called it) and this guy comes in and he says, ‘hey you look like that Will Ferrell guy.’  I guess I kinda did. And he says ‘you should be his body double.’  Anyways, long story short,  that guy was a casting director.  And next thing you know, I become Will Ferrell’s body double. I know, crazy, right?!

For all you non-believers, here’s some proof. It’s my back, in the underrated, yet high-larious (that’s how we used to say funny at FDV) film Semi-Pro, from 2008. Will didn’t feel like comin’ outta the trailer that day. So I got to be him.

That’s what I do. I get to be Will Ferrell when he doesn’t feel like bein’ himself. Some people might think that’s sorta sad, bein’ somebody else, but I say, show me the money! I say better to get paid to be Will Ferrell’s back, than not get paid at all. You know?

When you’re workin’ in show business it’s hard to stay in a relationship, I mean, ladies love me, but who has the time!? Especially when Will’s career is so white hott. With two TTs. So that’s why I got my best cat friend ever, Tunafish Jones (pictured above). We took this picture in 1999. He’s a long haired American feline. His fur is as soft as a baby calves’ butt and I love him like a brother.  We’re best friends. Even though I think his breath smells like Tuna all the time. But I guess that’s what happens when you got a nose that has super smellin’ powers. You’re always smellin’ the world ’round you.

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Roger Stevens, age 45, Los Angeles, CA

Bobby Jr. aka ‘Lil Boob Man

8 Apr

Boobs. I love Boobs. Seriously. I think Tits rock! You have a nice Rack by the way. I say break out the Bigguns, and let my lips play!

Can I have a jam session on your Bongos?

There’s nothing like Melons in the morning. More Cantaloupe and Honeydew please! Is it me or are your Headlights on?  Your Hooters would be lovely with a side of blue cheese.

I’m gaga for your Gagas. Your Chesticles are spectacles.

Knock knock? Who’s there? Your Knockers….in my face!

Aye aye, yo quiero mas Tamales. Jeepers creepers, let me suck your Peepers.

Niblets. Ninnies. Nippers. Nugs. I’ll pose forever if you show me your Jugs.

I’m bald as fuck, but who needs hair? ‘Cause you’ve got milk inside your Pair!

The fact is this. I just crapped my pants and know I look like a jackass, but I’m only moments away from lunch.  Soon it’s going to be you and me and your scrumptious Sweater Puffs. So shoot away camera boy, ’cause this baby’s ’bout to get him some Mammaroonies!

-As told to You Don’t Know Me by Bobby Jr., Age 10mths, Chester, PA

John S. aka The Pooh in Blue

23 Jun

Oh, you think this was my idea? You want to know what I do for a living? I’m a freakin’ Fireman. Yeah, like 9/11 shit. You cry every time my truck goes barreling past with our freedom flags and placards dedicated to the ones we lost at the Twin Towers. That’s right. And look at me now–just another dude in a blue Pooh suit.

I watch MMA. I have my freaking purple belt assholes. That means I could arm bar your ass just for looking at me the wrong way. So don’t get any ideas. In other words, get your itchy little bitch fingers off of the Twitter, you non-book reading piece of shit. I see you. And I could know where you live, ’cause I’ve got a buddy who works downtown. We’re only a phone call away from a face to face meeting one dark and stormy night when you least expect it if you even THINK about sending this picture to one of your stupid friends. For real.

So now that we’ve got that settled, you probably want to know how I ended up here. A few weeks ago the wife and I were shopping at the Point Pleasant Mall, just trying to update our wardrobes a bit, you know, wife had to get herself a pair of those butt toning sneakers. After Owen popped out, her ass took a one way trip to massive, so we thought she could start walking her way to fitness, or some shit like that. Anyway, so we’re cruising the Mall and we pass Sears, and they’ve got this special, and next thing you know the wife says, “John, look, we could get a family picture…something for the holiday card.”  There was no running from this one people, trust me.

See Memorial Day I got real wasted after a big time Bros Icing Bros session–hysterical! And after one too many Smirnoff Ice, I ran into an ex of mine, Susan Finnigan. She was always a looker, and so she starts cozying up to me at the bar, even though I’m wearing my freakin’ wedding ring. But I was like frozen by the Ice, like nothing I could do to resist! Anyways, Eileen, my wife, happens to stop by with her girlfriends at just the exact moment that Susan starts to get all Snooki on me. And she loses it. She walks over and clocks Susan without even waiting for an explanation. You think I’m tough? You should see my wife. Don’t let that smile fool you people, her bark is nothing compared to her bite. So she gets in my face all like, “who do you think you are…I had your son you piece of shit…how dare you.” And I just sit there, I mean guys, when we fuck up, we know it and what can you do but take it like a man, right? So long story short, I get mega bitch slapped in public, and now the wife has the golden ticket. Like she owns my short and curlies. So when she says let’s get a Winnie the freakin’ Pooh family photo, I have nothing to say but, “yes, dear.” And here we are.


-As told to You Don’t Know Me by John S. 32, Somerville, New Jersey

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