Let’s make some noise for Patty and her prowling menagerie. Thanks, Patty!
Now for a quick note: I am going to be on Karl’s show tonight. Yes, I’m on SecondHand Radio. Karl will wish I was in Tijuana when it’s all said and done, but it should be fun nonetheless. The show is live at 7pm (PT) with a chat room (i.e., cyber-sex) and an open line for calls. Stop in, chat it up and give us a ring. It will be Karltastic!
Our next guest is the charming Matthew of Childs Play X 2. He writes about life with twins and says sweet things all the time on his blog, but I’ve had beers with him on numerous occasions (as you’ll soon see) and I can honestly say that his wife is lovely. It’s true.
Please welcome Matthew!
It dawned on me that many of you reading this blog have never actually met the infamous Mr. Honea. You probably click on over here to the Honea Express, have a chuckle or two, maybe impressed by Whit’s clever use of meter as he shows off his education he obtained from THE University of Arizona.
Or maybe you hope he’ll post a photo of his bald head or, even better, his cute kids.
And perhaps you have been mesmerized by his poetry and seduced into thinking what a renaissance man Whit is.
But I know better.
You see, I’ve actually hung out with Whit. I’ve had beers with Whit (although that is NOT a serious distinction as I believe half the civilized – and most of the uncivilized – world has had a drink with Whit). I’ve watched baseball games with Whit. I have watched him charm everyone in the room with fascinating stories about passing gas. Yep. Whit’s a charmer.
So, since many of you don’t know Whit as well as I do, I thought I’d hunt through my photo archive to and literally show you the quintessential Whit.
First off, as I mentioned above, the man loves beer. It might be coincidence but I don’t remember too many times while hanging out with Whit when he wasn’t holding a beer bottle. Some famous people are associated with certain iconic symbols. The Fonz and his leather jacket. Michael Jackson and his glove. MC Hammer and his parachute pants. And Whit with his bottle of beer.
Furthermore, I have noticed that any photo that Whit posts of himself really doesn’t show just how scrawny the guy is. For someone who sits on his ass all day, eating fried food while scouring the internet for gossip about Miley Cyrus, Whit’s a pretty skinny guy. How skinny? Well, let’s just say he’s dwarfed by the average guy (my apologies to LA Daddy).
And I know that Whit has mentioned his dogs here on his blog, but don’t let that make you think he’s some kind of animal lover. Nothing could be further from the truth. If something pushes him over the edge, he’ll snap. I’ve seen him rip heads off of monkeys. It’s not a pretty sight.
And did you know that Whit freaks kids out? It’s true. Even his own son screams as he is forced into his father’s arms. It’s sad really. (Also notice how even as his son screams, someone is determined to hand Whit his beer.)
Finally, you might be wondering what kind of guy writes for
three four five six a ton of blogs. I’ll tell you what kind of guy. A guy who felt the lure of Hollywood only to be banished to the outer fringes, forced to write about the very stars he so desperately wants to be. No one is really sure what it is about Whit that Hollywood didn’t like. He’s got charm. He’s even occasionally funny. And it most certainly couldn’t be his looks. Could it? Could it?!
Nah. Must be something else.