Ian received a visitor in San Francisco. The visitor is a Homie. The Homie happens to be an alien. It is clear that the good people over at Homies, Inc. ran out of characters and decided to make an alien just to keep things spicy and flavorful.

Even though this Homie is an alien, or rather, this alien is a Homie, he still enjoys doing the things that Homies like to do. Like skateboarding. While listening to his iPod Mini. Or his WALKMAN. OMG. Homie busts out with all of his mixtapes his ex-girlfriend Sad Girl used to make him. Homie listens and then cries. He misses Sad Girl. He heard she ran away to Portugal and lives with a lesbian couple. He thought they had something special.

This Homie is also an accomplished tagger and knows how to represent his peoples.

He also works out three times a week. It is hard to see in the picture, but trust me, this Homie has a permit to carry the GUNS he calls his biceps. He will squeeze your head like a little grape.

The Homie sees Ian’s extensive VHS collection and realizes that Ian lives in the year 1991. Homie wants to tell Ian everything about the years 1992 through 2008, but decides, hey, let Ian figure it out himself. He’s a smart guy. One piece of advice from the future, Homie says, don’t buy Laserdiscs.

Dude. DISKETTES! WTF!!!! The good news is that there are thirty of them which is how many you’ll need to load up one Word document.

Word up, Ian. You live in a museum.

Stephanie received her Homie, named Lil’ Ghost. Lil’ Ghost has always been an East L.A. kind of guy or maybe even a Hawthorne or Echo Park kind of fella. To be honest, he finds the west side a little too laid back with all that sunshine and beachy stuff and all those vegan/raw/macrobiotic restaurants. Why would you eat vegan when you can eat bacon, he asks. He also thinks the west side can use more in the ‘hard’ department since everyone likes to rollerblade with fanny packs. Lil’ Ghost knows that if he wore a fanny pack in Hawthorne he’d get his Lil’ Ghost ass kicked back to Van Nuys.

But Lil’ Ghost goes to Santa Monica. Guess what?

He loves it. The beach isn’t so bad. In fact, it’s kind of OK.

He gets a tan so he can change his name from Lil’ Ghost to Lil’ Tanorexic.

He goes to the pier, to pick up on the hotties. Woo hoo! Hotties! Hey, you know a good vet? Cuz my PYTHONS ARE SICK. Lil’ Ghost wishes he could flex his biceps because that joke only works if you flex your biceps. Otherwise, everyone thinks you are a douche.

He rides the carousel. He does not like it. It makes him nauseous. What a stupid ride, he thinks. It just goes around and around? On the east side, you’d spin around and around and then someone would try to shoot at you because only a non-hard douchebag rides on a stupid horse wearing jewelry. And what is up with that music? Like an organ fell out of a SIX STORY WINDOW WITH ANNIE’S COMPUTER.

Lil’ Ghost is confused because on the west side there are dinosaurs that spit on you. One, he thought dinosaurs were extinct! Two, spitting is unladylike, even for a dinosaur. Three, he thought dinosaurs were extinct!

Lil’ Ghost decides he likes Santa Monica. He likes to be buried in the sand and chillax. He is far away from the hood. He thinks this is a good thing. He thinks he’ll buy one of those metal detector things all the homeless old men use to look for dimes. That’d be fun. He falls asleep.

He wakes up with a sunburn.

Erin got a new pet. It is a Homies Hood Houndz. It’s name is Fluffy Nutbutter. Fluffy Nutbutter is a raging, vicious, frothing-at-the-mouth pitbull that was recently saved from Michael Vick’s dogfighting ring. Fluffy Nutbutter use to chew off other dogs’ nuts and turn them into butter. That is where he gets his name. Also because he is fluffy and very adorable, save the nut-chewing part.

Fluffy Nutbutter is now a guard dog for Clarabella, Erin’s boutique on the Lower East Side. You will often find me here on Sundays harassing customers.

On his down time, Fluffy Nutbutter likes to try on the jewelry. Here are some rings.

Here is some bling.

He also likes to try on women’s shoes but this does not make him gay. And even if he were gay, that’d be OK too. He wishes these gold Vicenza heels came in his size. And also came in sets of four.

What a nice bag, he thinks. All this thinking is tiring. Time for a nap. If you buy this bag I highly recommend checking the pockets so you don’t take Fluffy Nutbutter home with you because he will terrorize the crap out of you. Also, protect your nuts (if you have them).

Some of you may remember Stephen, the first Homie to kick off the Annietown Special Daft Punk Edition: Homies Around the World. He ended up traveling to the fiftieth state, I believe it’s called Hawaii, to my friend Mike and his lovely family.

Well, guess what?

His family isn’t so lovely. THEY ARE EVIL. PURE HAWAIIAN EVIL, WHICH IS THE WORST FORM OF EVIL KNOWN TO MAN AFTER ALL THOSE POISONOUS SNAKES AND STUFF IN AUSTRALIA. Damn those Hawaiians with their pineapples and their grass skirts. You think, oh they are so nice and relaxed with their baritone ukuleles, but NO. PURE EVIL. Do not let them fool you.

From what I understand, Mike has been exposing poor Stephen to hours and hours of a capella music. It is torture far worse than waterboarding or the rack or the wheel or the iron maiden (sweet) or even…the pear or the Spanish spider (you can look up the last two if you want, but you have been warned.)

Apparently in Hawaii, Homies are a delicacy, just like Spam. Mike decided to cook poor Stephen into a pasta sauce. PASTA SAUCE. Clearly breaking his low-carb diet and in addition, KILLING STEPHEN. Below a recipe to make Homie pasta sauce.

First you chop onions. Then you add a Homie.

Don’t forget the garlic.

Then you PUT THEM IN HOT BURNING OLIVE OIL. Extra virgin. Extra evil. Poor Stephen. When he moved to Hawaii he thought, cool! Rainbows and coconut bras! Never did he think HOMIE PASTA SAUCE.

Add some herb. No not that kind of herb. Something like tarragon. It doesn’t get you high, but it goes better with HOMIE.

Add some shrooms. No not that kind of shroom. Seriously, what is wrong with you? These are just regular non-high-making mushrooms. Dude. Come on. Stephen thinks that if they were the regular high-making shrooms, he’d probably be a lot happier and maybe even OK with being EATEN ALIVE.

Add tomatoes, Homie.

Now you have delicious Homie pasta sauce which will most likely give you horrible indigestion and acid reflux.

Thanks, Mike. I hope Stephen tasted good. You know what else will taste good? MY FIST IN YOUR MOUTH. COME HERE SO I CAN KICK YOUR ASS. YOU HOMIE-EATER.

Fly decides to live with Leonora, who lives in Abu Dhabi, which lives in the United Arab Emirates, which lives on Earth. Fly has never been to Abu Dhabi but believes everyone there “keeps it real on the q-tip.”

Leonora takes Fly to work. Leonora is an architect. You can tell by the fancy pictures. Fly sees two other Homie-wannabes and she goes apenuts. There is only room for one Homie, she says, I’m going to blackjack you if you don’t get the F out of my way. The wannabes wonder what a blackjack is. Fly sighs. Don’t you know anything? That’s when I fill a tube sock with rocks and hit you with it, prison-style. The wannabes are scared. They cry. Fly does not feel bad. That is how hard she is.

Leonora introduces Fly to her mother’s collection of religious knickknacks. Fly realizes that Leonora’s mother and Annie’s mother would be all B.F.F.’s if they only lived in the same zip code.

Leonora takes Fly on a trip. They go to the airport. It’s in Dubai. It’s called the Dubai International Airport. Fancy that. They go to Sibu, Sarawak, Borneo Island which is in Malaysia. They visit Leonora’s brother.

Fly can’t believe how PIMP the cars are in Sibu, Sarawak, Borneo Island in Malaysia. She can’t wait to buy one. Leonora has to explain that it’s just her brother’s car collection and she can’t actually buy one. Fly gets cross. I am buying one of these PIMP cars, shut up or else I’ll blackjack you. Leonora asks what a blackjack is and Fly says, ask your Homies wannabes.

Hmm…maybe I like it in white.

Or in gold. Gold is the color for WINNERS. Leonora explains, it is more of a champagne color. Fly says, you’re right. CHAMPAGNE is the color for WINNERS.

While Fly shops for wheels, she meets the man of her dreams. He is a board-certified HUNK. In fact, his name is Hunk. Fly gets all flustered. He is so unbelievably hot she is practically melting just looking at him. Oh, do you hear that? It’s the sound of Fly’s heart thumping.

Fly decides that she looks good in green. She thinks that Hunk will agree. She is sad that her sweet, pimp ride does not have room for a passenger. Fly must choose…the car of the hunk? She of course, chooses the ride. I mean look at this ride. It is so pimp.

Dubaiwalla lives in Washington, D.C., which happens to be the capitol of the United States. On a map, Washington, D.C. gets a little star with a circle around it. It’s very fancy. It’s also not a state. It’s one of those fake states you see on television. Dubaiwalla received a Homie. It is unclear whether or not the Homie is a male or female. Just last night I was ranting how we only have two choices, male or female. Seems a little lame. We should have at least fifteen choices. We live in the 21st century, damnit. We are all about choices. Anyway, the point is this: this Homie could be a girl. It could also be a boy. The Homie’s name is now Chris.

Chris takes a tour of Washington, D.C. Dubaiwalla is very connected in Washington, D.C. and introduces Chris to famous politicians.

Chris meets George Washington. Chris says, that’s crazy, you know this city is called Washington, and your last name is Washington. What is that about?

Chris meets Abraham Lincoln. Chris says, what you thinking about? Lincoln says, can you please go away, I am thinking very hard right now.

Chris meets Bill Clinton. Chris says, dude you’re Bill Clinton. And Bill Clinton says, I so am Bill Clinton. Bill Clinton begins to talk about how great his presidency was despite the whole jizzing on an intern thing but, Chris doesn’t care because Chris sees someone s/he has been wanting to meet for a long time.

STEPHEN *&^%$ COLBERT! Chris nearly has a heart attack. Chris screams and jumps up and down and then passes out just like those girls did when they saw the Beatles.

Chris sees the Jefferson Memorial. Chris thinks it’s pretty tight that there’s a monument to the Jefferson’s, it was the best show on television for a very long time. Damn straight it gets a memorial.

Chris sees the First Division Monument (don’t know where the second and third division monuments are) and the Dwight D. Eisenhower Executive Office Building, which houses the office of Vice President Richard Bruce Cheney. Dishwalla had to escape immediately for fear that Vice President Richard Bruce Cheney would confiscate Chris under the Patriot Act which explicitly says the authorities can steal Homies. Bastards!

Chris makes a quick stop by the Office of Thrift Supervision. I just need to pick up some thrift supervisions on my way home, Chris explains. Dishwalla says FINE, I’LL WAIT IN THE CAR BUT HURRY UP.

Dishwalla and Chris run into trouble. As Dishwalla snaps a photo of Chris near an entrance to the White House, a security “officer” gets very suspicious. Dishwalla explains the story of the Homies and the security “officer” goes through Dishwalla’s camera to verify. Dishwalla later asks some Secret Service “representatives” to take a picture with Chris and they were all, no my hair looks really bad today and I spilled coffee all over my suit this morning. Not a good time. Totes sorry! LOL!

This Homie ended up with Dr. Michelle in New Hampshire, which is pretty much the opposite of the barrio. This Homie was all, wtf! Is that a tree or something? And then, omg, what is this white crap falling from the sky? At first he thought it was cocaine and then Dr. Michelle had to explain, no, my little Homie, it is snow. Cocaine comes from a lab. Snow comes from clouds. It is a kind of precipitation, which is a general term to describe any form of water that falls from the sky. Homie appreciates this quick science lesson. Dr. Michelle is happy. She teaches teachers for a living but it’s been a while since she’s taught a Homie. She has found the perfect “teaching moment.” Then the Homie proceeds to get his mind blown.

He discovers snow is actually very cold. He kind of gets pissed off about it, but then decides, wait, this is kind of fresh. He wonders if people even say “fresh” anymore, but realizes no, he’s in New Hampshire, they probably say “wicked” or something. Like those Canucks and Mainers. Homie decides Maine sucks, he has New Hampshire in the blood. He wants to get “New Hampshire” tattooed across his belly, but it’s so long it’ll have to wrap around twice around his rock hard tasty abs.

Homie meets Darcy. Darcy is a dog. Homie is a homie. Darcy seems unimpressed by the homie. Likewise, Homie is unimpressed with the dog. They decide to be unimpressed together and be lifelong friends BFFs 4-eva.

In true New Hampshire form, the Homie has decided to “live free or die.”

I got more Homies! They are beautiful. Stunning even. When you see these you are seriously going to wet yourself (in a good way). I should send an extra pair of undies along with each Homie because it is going to freak you out. You have been warned.

Anyway, for those of you who want one, please send me your address. Even if you sent it to me before, please send it again. My inbox is packed full of emails from people who are really concerned about my penis and wonder if my penis can really please that special lady, so things are a little confusing for me right now. Thank you for being patient with my penis.

For those of you whose Homies got Homie-jacked by the evildoers of the United States Postal Office (shame on you, and the finger!) please give me your address again. I’ll send you another one. It won’t be as good as the one you lost though. Just know that. But somehow you will find the strength to move on, I know.

Chuca feels empty inside. She thinks. She ponders. She thinks some more in a ponderous fashion. She wonders what it all means. She is confused. She has many questions, but who has the answers? She wants to take a pilgrimage to “find herself.” Chuca doesn’t actually know what she will find, whether it will be herself or someone else. But she decides to go to the one place that always has all the answers.

No, not India. Michelle’s apartment in Portland, Oregon.

Michelle explains quickly that it’s pronounced “Or-uh-gun.” She hates it when people say “Or-uh-GONE.” Don’t sound stupid, Michelle warns, or else no one will like you. Chuca nods. She understands. She has been around a lot of stupid people and understands what that’s like. Michelle introduces Chuca to some very spiritual people. One is a reformed race car driver. He used to drive very fast but realized that while driving very fast, he was letting life pass him by. He came to Michelle’s apartment in Portland, Or-uh-gun to learn how to live slowly and deliberately, you know, like Thoreau. Chuca says, uh, whatever. You’re a Lego. It’s not like your life is that hard. You drive a race car, please. You have everything going for you. You’re Danish. She then meets Black Cupid. Chuca says she’s never met a black Cupid before. Black Cupid says that he is like a black angel, have you ever met a black angel before? Chuca says no. Black Cupid explains, look, it’s a long story. Just know I can make your life really shitty and in addition difficult. Why so angry, Chuca asks? Black Cupid says it’s part of the job, don’t take it personally. Chuca is wondering if finding herself was such a good idea.

Chuca meets the Buddha. Immediately, Chuca feels calm. Buddha has some kind of balmy energy. It could also be the handful of Valiums the reformed Lego race car driver had slipped her, but for now let us pretend Chuca has found peace. She and Buddha talk. She rubs his belly for good luck. Buddha gets pissed though. Do not rub my belly without asking me first. Chuca apologizes. She is happy now, you see. She has found peace in Or-uh-gun. She can’t wait to tell Michelle the good news, but Michelle is not at home. She is an architecture student. She may never come home again. But Chuca is OK with that. She asks Buddha if she can rub his belly and Buddha rolls his eyes and says fine, but then later you have to make me a sandwich.

Thanks, Michelle!

Alice lives in Guimaraes, which is in Portugal. Portugal is in Europe. Europe is on a continent. It’s one of seven continents, actually. Alice received her Homie, safe and sound.

For some reason Alice’s Homie is very sad. In fact, her name is Sad Girl. Why so sad? No idea, she just moved to beautiful Portugal to live with a nice lesbian family and their dog! This nice lesbian family, plus the dog (who may or may not be lesbian), are all afflicted with a rare form of gigantism. Check out her new home, it’s afflicted with gigantism too! There’s no reason why this menina should not be, uh, not feliz.

Turns out Sad Girl is sad because she is an illegal immigrant to Portugal and now she must work for this nice lesbian family. They treat her well, but Sad Girl is sad. She takes care of a very large baby who sleeps in a very large crib. Sad Girl cannot believe what a pain in the ass this baby is with all the crying and the wanting to be fed on a semi-regular basis.

Sad Girl must walk the nice lesbian family’s dog. Which also doubles as a horse. It’s a very adorable dog/horse. But, man, its poop is the size of a smaller dog/horse.

Sad Girl goes to bed. She decides that the nice lesbian family afflicted with a rare form of gigantism is very nice and will love her, though most likely not in a lesbian way. She sleeps wondering if gigantism is contagious. She’s pretty sure lesbian is not contagious, but she’s not sure about gigantism. Then she decides even if it was, she’d be OK with it. That is when Sad Girl realizes her tears are actually tears of joy.

Thanks Alice!