What a great 2008

I've been a bad Comp-Boy--- while poor Little Pee Wee has had to sit here, languishing in the knowledge that Blogs like his don't ever get anywhere when no one is around to, you know... talk meaningless bullshit for the internets to consume... and here I am, selfishly completing finals when I could be glorifying him!

Well, I've got a resolution for 2008: More Little Pee Wee, less Comp Boy. And if I don't graduate college and end up on the streets begging for camel lites and McDonald's Cheeseburgers, well, that's the price you pay to serve greatness.

As I say this, Little Pee Wee is... politely, carefully... shaving me with a straight razor. Why he is doing this while I type, I can't tell you. Why he purposefully nicked my throat to let spill a single drop of blood... ohh, I'm sure there's good reason for that. Yes. I'm absolutely sure.

LPW just jerked the razor in such a way as to remind me that there's something utterly important to discuss, something which could blast him back into the spotlight here in the great 2008-- and it doesn't involve his untoward designs towards his crush, the equally plastic Hillary Clinton-- it's that Paul Reuben, the actor who played the real Pee Wee is planning... on another two films.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen: Pee Wee is BACK!


And with the return of Big Pee Wee, Little Pee Wee will be much in demand-- perhaps allowing him to be able to get out of the Malibu Barbie Dream House he currently resides in, in my closet next to Snowball's cat box, and get his own apartment . But I doubt it. He seems to enjoy the smell.

I have my own reservations about the new Pee Wee movie: namely, the rumors that Johnny Depp has been asked to play Pee Wee.

You've seen Little Pee Wee: does he look like this...?




Not even kinda. Sure, Depp's a pretty boy who likes to play weirdos but he could never live up to the primal man-boy that is Pee Wee-- and, therefore, Little Pee Wee.

Oh wait.

Little Pee Wee is lifting my chin with the blade in such a way as to remind me that Comp-Boy's don't have opinions, 6 inch plastic dolls do.

On to the advice!!

Dear Little Pee Wee,

I am a 29-year old SHGM (Single Hispanic Gay Male). I work at a premier food and beverage establishment in Northeast Wisconsin. I love my job, but I hate the hours. My boss demands lots of hours and my personal life is suffering. I mean, I can barely keep up the maintenence on my hot bod and fab hair. How do you do it, Little Pee Wee? I am thinking of switching jobs, turning straight and auditioning for a reality dating show, I do Love New York! Do you think I have a chance for Season 3?

Thank You!

Frigid in the Frozen Tundra

Little Pee Wee feels your pain, FITFT, and wonders why you're acronym doesn't spell anything like in normal advice columns; you see, years ago Little Pee Wee tried out for The Real World, having seen the beauty that is that slut Trishelle-- he had hoped that, since she loved any kind of object shoved into her Mormon vagina, she might be interested in-- rather than 6 inches of a whole man-- a whole 6 inch man shoved into her Mormon vagina. His audition tape consisted of him staring blankly at a camera for five hours straight. As he has no actual eyelids, Little Pee Wee did not blink once.

He made it to the second interview but they found his backstory too boring.

Lately Little Pee Wee has considered joining the Celeb-Reality bandwagon, perhaps putting on an 10 ounces so he could be on celebrity fit club or maybe try to get into the Surreal Life-- Little Pee Wee is smaller than that Vern Troyer prick and everyone knows inebriated little people makes for good TV. Well, no one gets drunk like Little Pee Wee!


Peeing in the corner? Little Pee Wee is known to poop brown plastic pellets into long-neck bottles and serve them to friends, neighbors and religious leaders. Vern's got NOTHING on Little Pee Wee!

Anyway, FITFT, to answer your questions:

A) Little Pee Wee is made of plastic, so his hair and bod will last thousands of years after you've grown flabby, flaccid and fissile with decay--- so he suggests that you leap into a vat of chemicals and hope for the best. At the very least, you could take an imprint of your penis and have it made into a dildo-- like any self-respecting gay man, your penis should be what immortalizes you, not your personality.

B) Turn straight and try out for I Love New York? How completely unprecedented!!!


Hmmm..... I guess stranger things have happened!

From your friend, Little Pee Wee, and his helpless captive, Comp-Boy Curtis, I pray someone will heed these desperate cries for help.

Little Pee Wee: Big Celebrity.

Little Pee Wee wanted this website made to glorify his hollow name-- excuse me, hallowed name-- so that all the intarwebs would know of his big adventures.

However, Little Pee Wee, in his made gesticulating, as informed me he does not believe his audience buys into his micro-fame. And what better way to skool fools than with actual celebrity endorsements? Endorsements like, say... White Mr. T????


Little Pee Wee and his gang of sloppy sycophants recently made the trek down to Nashville Tennessee, where the fake A-team was participating in the Redbull Flugtag-- some bullshit about throwing flimsy things into the lake or something. Gay.

Little Pee Wee cares not for Flugtags or the Germans in general (long story short, he doesn't like the word "Volkswagon"); Little Pee Wee cares only for kittens, small children, fake breasts and faux celebrity.

The crew from Reno 911 was there and while Little Pee Wee really is all about plunging plasticine cleavage-- and as you can see, there was a whole crap load of that-- Little Pee Wee was like flies on Ethiopian kids' eyes when he got a gander of Lt. Dangle's ass....

He later said it smelled of Cheese Puffs and Gerbil. It was one of the most special experiences of his life-time.... Look those gams. Yum.

In case you think he spent all his time watching celebrities, he also took a moment to pray that one of the Flugtag skydivers would fall to their much publicized death in the hopes that the local news would want to interview the traumatized members of the audience-- see how he watches in breathless anticipation?



Little Pee Wee can't cry (his plastic face lacks tear ducts... and range of expression), but his pantomime of pain, fear and existential crisis would catapult him back into the limelight-- anything for another 15 minutes of fame. Alas, no one died.

However, Little Pee Wee DID get the most exciting celebrity endorsement of all:


That's right, bitches. The King Himself-- or one of them, anyway-- bows down and licks the undifferentiated crotch of Little Pee Wee. If that aint an endorsement, I don't know what is-- unless it's black Elvis.

But Black Elvis was a little busy, looking for his perm. That's okay, Black Elvis. Little Pee Wee knows its hard out there for a pimp....

Speaking of pimping-- it aint easy. And neither is writing advice columns (how's THAT for transitions?)

Dear Little Pee Wee,

I am a 29 year old, single female. I am about to leave my twenties, and enter the dirty thirties. My problem is, I can't decide how to best celebrate. I really need to know: "What would Little Pee Wee do?"

Thank you,

The Birthday Girl

WWLPWD? Why, he'd copyright and merchandise that phrase into a series of bracelets, t-shirts, thong-underwear and assless pajamas!

In case you aren't aware, plastic has a long shelf-life-- and Little Pee Wee fully expects to be on this planet, slowly degrading, for another thousand years. In other words, Little Pee Wee pisses on your dirty thirties-- he's waiting for his dirty three hundreds!

That said, Little Pee Wee thinks that the best thing to do, when celebrating great transition in life, is to somehow combine nudity and humiliation at another's experience- so Little Pee Wee recommends that you find the World's Oldest Stripper!!


World's Oldest Stripper - For the Ladies....

Little Pee Wee dares you to find a dirtier way to waltz into your thirties. He dares you! If you don't wake up in a pool of your own vomit, a smelly old-man G-string on your face, feeling as embarrassed as the divinely guided Security Guard who took credit for shooting air for Jesus is going to be, Little Pee Wee guarantee's double your money back for his advice.

Well, it's time to give Little Pee Wee his afternoon Whiskey Sour. If he doesn't get his drinky drink, he can become violently abusive and your friend Comp-Boy Curtis has enough broken ribs for a life time....

Oh, before I forget....

Be sure to send in your emails for Little Pee Wee's biiiig wisdom-- bigadventureslittlepeewee@gmail.com!

Where the Beaches?

Little Pee Wee's not feeling the winter time. All the cold makes his old plastic limbs stiff.

These days, Little Pee Wee's dreaming about the summer time-- beach, beer and bitches, in his, ahem, "words." Last summer, we took a little road strip through the Carolinas, ending up at Kitty Hawk-- the Outer Banks, or OBX to the locals, drinking up sun and mojitos.

As Little Pee Wee hasn't had steady work since the 80s, I was stuck buying. Thank God he's a "Keystone Light" man.


Here's Little Pee Wee with a few of his "ho's." And by ho's he means "lovely young lady friends who have only put out for him once" I'm sure. No one ever puts out for Comp-boy Curtis....

While we were down there, Little Pee Wee gambled with old men, flew kites, got drunk with the locals and nearly got into a knife fight with a crab. No, seriously....


That crab wasn't to be messed with- but, then, neither is Little Pee Wee.

All it takes is one Little Pee Wee glare and that crab broke down in crustacean tears... which are like crocodile tears, only more Emo.

On to today's very first "Ask Little Pee Wee" column!

Little Pee Wee,

I'm trying to work on this powerpoint presentation for a class and it's positively dull! How do I get motivated and stop getting distracted? I've been staring at the computer so long my vision is blurry.

Cross-eyed in Chicago

Little Pee Wee is gyrating madly, which could only mean one of three things:

A) you've said the secret word. And since the secret word has been "Jack Daniel's" for as long as I've known LPW, that can't be it.

B) Little Pee Wee is somehow turned on by your question and, perhaps, the words "Power" and "Point."

Or C) he's thinks you've done something dumb: namely, being here, reading this website.

No, it looks like it's the Power Point thing-- and the fact that you have crossed-eyes. Little Pee Wee is into some very freaky shit.

Little Pee Wee suggests that, after sending pictures of your crossed-eyes, highly cropped so as to reveal no other feature, preferably with extremely red veins from a long night of crying and/or studying, you should disconnect your internet, turn on some music (Little Pee Wee is into death-metal, so he prefers Nocturnus) and stare at the screen until you realize you're going to fail a class and get no where in life, end up working at Walmart but you'll fail the "Greeter" exam and be stuck sweeping aisle 90 for the next ten years until one day you'll abruptly realize you've pretty well fucked yourself over a power point project you probably could've completed in an hour and a half.

Unofficially, he also suggests coke. That is, coca cola. In powdered form. Little Pee Wee once wrote an autobiography in 3 days with no sleep thanks to that. Unfortunately, he could not find a publisher.

Hope that helps, CEIC!

This is Comp-boy Curtis for Little Pee Wee saying, "The Playhouse is always open."

Or something.

Hello World!

Hi, this is Comp-boy Curtis, official translator for Little Pee Wee.

Little Pee Wee's a world traveling card-sharp, a champion drinker and world-class womanizer-- and it's about time he had his own website.

Or so he tells me, in his unique full-body-sign-language.

So this is where you'll find pictures from his outings: in the future, expect shots of his party at Beerfest in Wisconsin, his epic battle against crabs on the Carolina Coast (OBX, bitches!) and his Coyote Ugly Antics in Nashville....

Stay tuned!

CC.