| chris pontius |
| Life After Big Brother by Chris Pontius When I first heard I�d been fired from Big Brother, I couldn�t have been less bothered. "Devil may care!" I said to myself. I knew that I�d miss signing autographs, but riding in limousines with Slayer, going to porn-industry parties and posing for full, frontal, nude male spreads never really meant that much to me. Maybe one day, the remaining Big Brother staff will drive past me in a limo and order the chauffeur to come to a halt. "Hey, Chris, get in!" they would shout. But I would refuse. "No thanks, fellas, I�ll just walk�just like I walked to our last video premiere! You might remember me from it, I was the star!" And so the time had come to walk away from skateboarding forever. What more could I accomplish in the sport? I mean, I was famous. It was time to start a new career. I wondered what kind of work would suit me best. Maybe I could become a policeman in charge of putting criminals behind bars where they belong. Or maybe a prostitute catering to men. I would also service women, but they�d have to pay a penalty fee for being female. To make sure that there wasn�t any confusion over the price, I�d get a tattoo across my belly that read, "Broads pay double." On the other hand, lately, I�ve been very suspicious that war would be breaking out any day, and Uncle Sam might need my help. I would join the U.S. Marine Corps! I�ve always known that I�d make a fine soldier, just like Tom Hanks in Saving Private Ryan! "Semper fi, do or die! Here comes a trained killer, a United States Marine Corps Devil Dog! Beware!" I�d shout while slaughtering camel jockeys. If I ever saw a camel jockey on an exotic two-humped, though, I would disobey President Clinton�s orders and spare the man�s life. I would befriend the enemy and have long conversations with him while watching the sun set over the sandy dunes of the northern Sahara. In the end, I decided to become a health aficionado. That�s when I walked into Jamba Juice and demanded an application. Jamba Juice is a juice-bar chain that specializes in serving smoothies, wheat grass and healthy ethnic soups with a California twist. During my job interview, I told the manager about how involved I was in health and athletics. To back up these statements, I wore a wife-beater to the interview to provide a charming display of skin and muscle. Plus, the manager Jeff was gay, and if there was one thing I�d learned at Big Brother, it was how far a little sex appeal can take you. A few days later, I received a call explaining that I was hired and it was time to come in and begin training. My second day on the job, I showed up over an hour late. It was my girlfriend�s fault, so I warned Jeff that if she should ever come in looking for a job, to think twice before hiring her. Later that day, some guy named Lance came in for a juice. I figured that he must�ve been Lance Dawes, the editor of Slap, and I could tell that he and all the other customers really liked me. Some of the customers looked at me with bedroom eyes, wondering what I had hanging beneath my trousers. Then a fat, black lady made trouble with me and the rest of the Jamba team. Following my instincts, I immediately turned it into a racial issue, wondering if Jamba Juice would welcome my attitudes the way Big Brother had. Ironically, the next day was Martin Luther King Day. "Isn�t it ironic/don�t you think?/a little too ironic/yeah I really do think!" �Alanis Morrisette I decided not to show up for work at all. The sun was shining, the wind was perfect, it was time to raise the sails and move on. I got the job at Charles Schwab through a temp agency. I worked as an assistant to the manager of the payroll department. As you can imagine, working for the largest stock brokerage firm in the country provided me with a lot of unwelcome stress. Wisely, I turned to the bottle. The work was grueling but a lot easier than Jamba Juice. I was also enjoying my drinking, so I stayed on the job for a few more weeks until I finally quit. When I went to the security office of Charles Schwab to turn in my clearance badge, the female guard decided to give me a hard time for not telling anyone that I�d quit. She kept asking me all these questions, but I couldn�t answer her because I was chewing tobacco and had no place to spit. I had no choice but to turn my back on the woman and walk away. I knew that she would call the temp agency and they would never hire me again, but I didn�t care. Another bridge had been burned, but there were hundreds, maybe even thousands, left. The next day, I interviewed with a woman at another temp agency. Once again, by telling lies and using the sex appeal I�d learned from my slutty sister, I was hired on the spot. I was assigned to work at the Women�s Foundation, a nonprofit organization that funds women�s programs throughout California. I was the only male employee in the entire foundation, and many of the women I worked with were of color. Some of the women I was dealing with were avid lesbians and, although not physically attracted to me, eventually confessed that I had a nice voice. I loved working at the Foundation and felt sad when I had to announce that I�d be leaving to go on an extended vacation. On my last day of work, we all drank Jamba Juice. |
| name : chris pontius born : july 19 , 1974 height : 5'8 eyes / hair : hazel / brown status : single born : pasadena , ca currentle lives in : la , san luis obispo CA car : toyota , pick up Movies: Big Trouble In Little China, North Shore TV Shows: Diff'rent Strokes, Scooby Doo Skateboarder: Jason Jesse Music: Misfits, Black Flag, Pixies, Elvis, Doo Rag, Bob Log III, White Stripes, Melvins, Hasil Adkins, Fred McDowell Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Eazy E, NWA, any Gangsta Rap Song: Hybrid Moment by the Misfits Books: Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut, Barrel Fever by Dave Sidaris Food: Mexican, Tuna(hmmm...) Drink: H20 Color: Rainbow Pastimes: Watching Sunsets, Daydreaming, Picking flowers, Having promiscuous unprotected sex |
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