Recipe For Good Story-Telling

Because he asked me so nicely.

...

...

Okay, because he was a serious pain in the arse.

So, here it is: a post about God. Or Stijn, if you will.

I've known him for quite some time now, and thus I also know that he will spread this post all over the internet. 'Look, somebody dedicated a whole blog entry to my own, divine being!' Then he'll choke on the word blog, he will die a most gruesome death and I will claim his PS2 and both Guitar Heroes. So go ahead, spread the word. Yes, excellent.

... Wait!



Heeeeeere I come to save the daaaaaaaay!

Dying no one will, if something to say about it I have!

Damn, wrong movie, innit?

So, yeah. Something with a guy on the moon. Must be Michael Jackson's Moonwalker. Kick ass game on the Sega Master System, that one. Throwing hats, killing nasty guys and saving innocent children. I always liked innocent children.

...

SAVING innocent children! SAVING THEM I SAY! FROM BAD MEN LIKE MICHAEL! I'M NOT A BAD MAN!

Wait a second there, I am. I said so in my previous post. I'm an asshole, so bugger off. Which, quite seamlessly, brings me to this post's topic: the God of assholes.

But first of all, welcome to all my new fans. You know, all the people that didn't read this pile o' crap before but are doing it now since Stijn linked this page to them. You know you're going to do it, Stijn. If you do it online, you don't have to pronounce the world blog and thus thou cannot choke! It is the only way, silly! So, welcome to the new crowd. Feel free to check out any of my previous posts (I've already got 50 of 'em!) if you ever feel miserable and want to confirm that there is indeed at least one person more pathetic alive: me. ... Hell, at least I can write fucking funny shit and you can't, so clear off if you don't like me. That's right, I don't need you. OUT OF HERE! Butler, send out the hounds.

I have a surprise for all my fans. I am proud to reveal the official Giel t-shirt! Wear it to show that you're my bitch. I wiped my arse with every single one of them, so you can even put 'em on Ebay and make lots of money. Girls can order them when they come over on the usual Naughty Fridays at Giel's Mansion, guys whill have to send my either their girlfriend or a bottle of Jack.

Daniels that is, not Sparrow. No funny business!

But! today's topic was Stijn, wasn't it? I've also made him a t-shirt, it can be found here. Which brings me to what I want to do today. Let's do a cooking lesson about Stijn. Ready, set, go Cooking Giel!



Look at that short hair. Pitiful. Still, an undeniably sexy motherfucker, that one. Who is that again? Whoops, it's me! You naughty boy. Okay, get you cooking gear ready.

First you take a funny story of your choice. The ones you tell to each other in the pub, usually about other people getting in awkward situations. Like that time when I walked into a hotel lounge butt-naked and... Oh well, let's move on.
Okay, now image the story being told. The thing about some stories is that they don't work on paper, only when being told by some drunk fucks to some other drunk fucks.
By now, you should have a pretty decent thing going on. A few funny moments throughout the stories, maybe some references to the people listening to the story, keep 'em interested, and a lot of flair to present all of it.
Now let's take it to the next level. Imagine the story being told by Joe Pesci. Things like 'You muthafucker, you lookin' at me? I'll fucking shoot you, now dance muthafucker!' really add to the whole dramatic effect of the story. Your story is now officially cool.
Okay, we're almost there. Now here's a tricky part: somehow you have to manage to fit both the words 'horse' and 'dick' in the story, preferably in one sentence. It doens't have to be related to the whole picture, but it needs to be there in order for your story to be even more succesful. Look convincing whilst saying horse and dick, no one is gonna believe you if you don't look like you could easily put three woman on there, like a sweet saté of... women.
The story is pretty much completed now, although there is a bonus to be achieved. If you manage to drink five bottles of beer during an equal amount of minutes, you have succeeded in your task of telling the perfect drunk man's story. Drink twenty bottles in one evening to take down the house and make sure nobody fucks around with you.

Congratulations, you now have a perfect Stijn story! Applause!

[herd of naked chicks dash into the room and give three cheers for Stijn]

So that's the most important thing about the bastard: he's a helluvva story teller. I guess God had a few good stories up his sleeve (remember when I told Abraham to offer his own bloody son? That was HILARIOUS! Heh? Heh? Can I see some hands here?), so it's still safe to say Stijn is God.

So what else? He listens to evil music. Like really evil. Like so evil even Satan has to stick his own dick up his ass and kneel in front of Stijn when he plays some music. I know God listens to evil music ('And what's the deal with airline food, I mean, hallelujahs? I know I'm God, people don't need to remind me all the fucking time. GET ON WITH IT!'), so there's some more evidence for you.

Hmm, so now what. Oh yeah, I remember. Trying to say this in a subtle way here... Hmm, yes.

HE FUCKS LIKE A BEAST!

Oh dear, such nasty language in this otherwise very decent blog. Shame, shame, shame.

Here's a painful one to admit: he's actually better than me in Guitar Hero. That's a reason for being declared God, if ever there was any. Honestly, playing guitar for about ten years and he wipes the floor with my arse in about two months time. IT'S NOT FAIR! ... I hate you, Kenny. - Mwmmghmwwmbh! - Shut up, Kenny.

Ah, another important one: he gave me The Dirt! The Dirt is like the bible when it comes to importance and relevance to one's lifestyle. Too bad for the bible, but The Dirt is better. It's the most decadent, nasty, rock 'n roll, motley, brilliantly sexy and undeniably godlike peace of proza ever conceived. Any one who spreads the words of the Dirt around must have devilish thoughts in mind, and since the devil is an asshole and all Gods are assholes, the only logical thing to say is: Stijn is both The Devil and God. And one heck of an asshole. And a bit of a horse, but I won't let this blog get any nastier than it is already.

I could probably go on a bit longer, but it's getting late. Or early, any way you want it.

AAANY WAY YOU WANT IT - THAT'S THE WAY YOU NEED IT! ANY WAY YOU WANT IT!

To those who are here for the first time: feel free to explore the other rubbish about more interesting people - me, myself and God (that would be, woops, me!) - and to comment to Stijn's divine status. For those of you who think all of the above doesn't make the least bit of sense: hell, try writing this sort of bollocks. And to everyone else: open up a beer and let's have a toast for Stijn.

De blog-lezers: 'Santé!'
Giel: 'Tetn!'
Zestig tetn in koor: 'Giel!'
Volgers van het ware geloof: 'Stijn!'
Bierkenners en liefhebbers van sterke verhalen: ''t Stationneke!'
Panoramix op het einde van Asterix & Cleopatra: 'Een neus, mijn beste, EEN NEUS!'
Een paard: 'Hinnik.'