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DOS & DON'TS

You think the dominant ethno-cultural group in your neighborhood is weird? Until you’ve tasted the glory that is the French Canadian you have no idea. This guy is going to bring his three plain burgers (with extra gravy) to a local bar, salt up his beer, and give some stranger a two-hour lecture on why “De womens” have more nerve endings in “deir assholes dan deir vagines.”
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Hosers seem like extraneous boobs when you live there but as soon as you move away you start getting these terrible cravings for a stalwart old nerd who fixes lawnmowers with popsicle sticks and once built a house inside a shipping container. Comments/Enlarge | See all






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HOLY CHALICE!

How I Got My First Pimp cup

Published April, 2005


I don't normally hang out with celebrities after the show (their choice, not mine), but it happens once in a while. Recently, my childhood friend Tommy was in town with his father, who is also named Tommy and looks exactly like his son. There was a knock at the door. Someone said our musical guest that night, the rapper Lil Jon, wanted to bring me a gift. He is black, so naturally I welcomed him with open arms.

Lil Jon gallantly walked in wearing what I think may have been a mink pirate costume. Here was one of hip-hop's leading Lils, with a mouth full of gold teeth and an attractive, nearly nude girl of undetermined ethnicity on each arm. He gave me a "Here I am" kind of look.

I immediately began to worry that this was my "gift"—that I was being presented with a young lady of my own, with whom, because of my eagerness to show I am not racist, I would have had no choice but to have unprotected sex. I knew that I would do this just to please Lil Jon—even if it meant fucking in front of 63-year-old Tommy Sr.—and I also knew that that this woman (or, possibly, these women) would almost certainly become pregnant, possibly with twins.

Jon (as I now call him) handed me a big black velvet bag. Inside was a collection of porn DVDs. I thanked him for these and politely noted that the women on the packaging were indeed the same women in the room. I did this by pointing at them and saying, "Oh, hey—that's you guys! Wow! That's really great!" And then Jon gave me the real gift: The best blow job I ever had in my life. Just kidding. It was my very own chalice. A gold (plastic, painted gold) chalice—encrusted with diamonds (fake plastic diamonds) that spelled out my name: "JIMMY."

I've never had my own chalice before. I was delighted both by the gift and by the (albeit slight) possibility that Lil Jon himself sat at home gluing little plastic letters onto this thing to spell my name.

I thanked him for the chalice and didn't even have to pretend to be excited. I was.

And then Lil Jon commanded the women to get naked and plop down on my friend Tommy's dad's lap. I know this sounds like a great thing, but we were all really embarrassed and anxious because we are old white people and that kind of stuff makes us uncomfortable.

Anyway, all I know is I own a fucking chalice. Do you own a fucking chalice? No, you do not.

JIMMY KIMMEL

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