I got some e-mails at epjenkins@gmail.com and from the form thingy you can send stuff to me here on the site.

You folks just come right out and ask some wild stuff, man! That’s ok! Bring in on!

Hey Elwood,
Why do you live in a trailer park?

MB
Wichita Falls, Texas

MB in Texas,  I live in a trailer park because it is where my trailer is, and a tornado ain’t hit here yet.  Don’t take a rocket surgeon to figure that one out.

Elwood P,
Have you found your soulmate yet?  Has anyone yet measured up to the greatness that is Elwood P. Jenkins?  Will you marry me?  Will you rub my feet?

Hugs

Lisa P.
Lake Charles, LA

No. No. Maybe. Heck no.

Mr. Jenkins,
My husband thinks you are an ignoramus, but I think you are hilarious! Did you even graduate high school? Are you even for real?

Anne S.
Little Rock, AR

Dear Anne with the terrible husband and a bunch of questions,
Thank you. You tell your slope-headed husband I am a Babdist.  They kicked me out when I got to be the same age as some of the teachers. Of course I am for real, I typed this didn’t I?

Dear Elwood,
We read your posts in our office and it makes our day. We love you! Do you ever do standup?

Tracee, Linda, and Heather
Fayetteville, AR

Dear two chicks with normal names and one with a stripper name,
Thanks. Are you strippers? Asking for a friend. And be sure you tell your boss to not blame me when he catches you goofing off on the job.  I do stand up for one and not for two.

And one that got messaged to me on the Twitters:

You’re a $%^&& *(@@#$ chauvinist $%^&&*

So, you don’t wanna go out? Because, I am sensing a vibe….

I was at the Wal-Mart the other day to get some stink bait and saw something that we have all seen in Wal-Mart.

There was a woman yellin’ at her kids.  No surprise there.  Heck, I am surprised if I go into Wally World and there ain’t some kid getting yelled at.

Wal-Mart is where you are supposed to yell at your kids. It’s like a law or something.  Momma used to load us up when we was kids to drive us to the Wal-Mart in Morrilton to yell at us and give us a whoopin’. Then since she was there, she might get her a soft pack of Marlboros.

But there is more than just parents whippin’ kids butts in Wal-Mart. There is a few types of people that you got a good chance of seein’ at a Wal-Mart no matter where you live.

Now, this is pretty much Wal-Mart only.  It don’t apply to Kroger, Target or especially not a Dillards.  But you might see some of these folks we are gonna discuss in a K-mart, Harp’s, Fred’s or Knight’s and for dang sure in a Dollar General Store.  But, you will almost always see ’em at a Wal-Mart.

Here are some of the people you are likely to see at Wal-Mart:

Ancient Greeter Man – Nope. It ain’t the Crypt Keeper,  but it may be a first cousin.  His job is to welcome you to Wal-Mart and direct you to a buggy.  That buggy has a 80% chance of having a wobbly front wheel.

When ever you go into the store and see this feller, you think this might be the last time you see him breathing.  But, you have been saying that for almost 8-years and he is still there.

Planet Woman and Satellite Man – This here is a real common in Wal-Mart.  She clocks in at least 350 to 400 pounds.  She is wearing either worn cotton shorts that show off a couple of tree trunks for legs or a pair of warm up britches that look like its got a couple of pigs wrasslin’ in the butt-end and a xxxxl Tim McGraw: Indian Outlaw t-shirt from the ’90’s.

Her man is about 119 pounds, wears a faded Molly Hatchet 1981 tour t-shirt and a greasy ballcap that says something snappy like: “Yank My Doodle, It’s A Dandy”.

Satellite Man orbits Planet Woman and is there to do whatever she tells him to do.  If he don’t do what she says, he might get hurt.

These two usually have a bunch of loud, dirty kids with no shoes. And she is usually yelling at all of them for bothering her, but ignores them when they are flying around and kicking people in the knees and cussing out the greeter.

Roadblock Annie – You know that woman who don’t get on one side of the aisle or another?  The one that has to get right in the middle and stops?  That is Roadblock Annie.

She is immune to your stares or to clearing your throat.   She will just keep right on ignoring you.

She is over 65-years old and thinks she don’t have to move for anyone.

I find that I can usually get Roadblock Annie to move by saying someting out loud like, “Man, I bet that one is gonna stink!” or “Excuse me ma’am, do you wanna pet my snake?”

The Jr. League Talkers – Younger first cousins to Roadblock Annie, except they only block your way when they run into each other.

If you are behind one and hear “Oh Staci!  I haven’t seen you in ages! blah-blah-blah-blah….” , you might as well either turn around and go the other way, OR if you wanna have some fun,  just walk up and join in on the conversation.  They will look at one another with their eyebrows raised, but most likely being Junior Leagers, they won’t be rude enough to ask how you know them, they will just assume you know the other one.

Stinky Pete – The guy that just looks like he stinks, and boy does he.  Big bushy beard, dirty pants and shirt with sweat stains.  Dirt everywhere on his exposed skin.

The smell that can only come from the mixture of cheap cigarette smoke, not bathing, not changing clothes for a few weeks. The flies chipped in a bought Stinky Pete a screen door.

The odor coming off Stinky Pete in waves is best described as a ‘funk’.

Don’t get within 25-feet.  The smell of Stinky Pete can knock a buzzard off a gut wagon.

And that is just a few of the folks you will see in Wal-Mart.

If you ladies are feeling lucky and want a shot at being my future ex-wife, you can e-mail me at elwood@elwoodjenkins.com

Later y’all

EPJ

My cousin, Matthew Jenkins, won’t be asking me to take him hunting this year.  He probably never will again.

See, what happened was this. Last November, Matthew came down to Bubba’s Bar with me and Bobby Martinez to shoot some pool.  Well, the subject turns to deer huntin’.  Me and Bobby made the mistake of talking about our hunting plans for next morning in front of Matthew.  Matthew gets all twitchy and excited, “Guys, that is a great idea!  I’ll meet you tomorrow morning!”

You ever been around someone who invites themselves along?  Annoying ain’t it?

Here’s a couple of things about Matthew:

1. He thinks he knows everything ’bout deer huntin’ cuz he reads all these huntin’ magazines and watches all the huntin’ shows on cable and listens to Ted Nugent music.
2. He lives in Little Rock.  He’s all cityfied. He tries to be normal, like me, but just can’t.  He gets his hair done at a salon! Real men go to a barber.
3. He is not the sharpest tool in the shed.

So, Matthew meets me and Bobby the next morning at the Gas -n- Git to load up his gear in my 1981 AMC Pacer that I call The Love Turtle.  While Matthew is putting all his stuff in the car, me and Bobby load up on all our usual deer hunting food. I got a bunch of beef jerky, some chocolate covered peanuts, a couple of Dr. Peppers and a can of vi-eeny sausages.

We got about a 20-mile ride down some dirt roads to our deer stands.  All the way there, Matthew starts goin’ on about how he has washed his hunting clothes in some kinds of stuff that blocks ultraviolet light and how he has some deer urine he will sprinkle on his shoes.  Then Matthew tells us he will not be on a stand, that he will be stalking his deer like Ted Nugent does on TV.  He keeps on and on about how he will look for deer sign and deer rubs and such.

Bobby Martinez asked Matthew, “What is deer sign?”

Matthew tells him, “Deer poop.”

Now that is just dumb. If its deer poop just call it deer poop.  I don’t tell everyone “Hey, better light the candle and get the air freshener, I gotta go ‘sign’.”  But like I said, Matthew is all cityfied and likes to use big words.

So we listen to this stuff for half-hour till we finally get to our deer stands.  I drop Bobby off at his stand and me and Matthew drive down about a half-mile to mine.

Matthew says, “Ok, I am going to look for deer sign over here and stalk my kill”

I say, “Ok, I am going to plant my butt here on this metal folding chair in my ground stand, drink Dr. Pepper and wait for my deer.”

So, off he goes.  About a half-hour later, I see Matthew ‘stalking’ and looking for ‘deer sign’.  I thought stalking meant you walked real quiet, but he sounded like a heifer with a clubhoof out there.  Apparently, he ain’t found no sign.

Then, I reached for my chocolate covered peanuts and got a real funny idea.

Don’t get grossed out. This is really chocolate covered peanuts.

I walked about 30-yards into the woods behind my stand and poured the whole box of chocolate covered peanuts on the ground.

I waited until Matthew stalked close by and whispered, “Hey! Matthew! Deer sign!”

So anyhow, Matthew comes over, looks at them and says, “Hmmmm”

Then he looks at the pile of ‘sign’ a little more and says, “Ahhhhh.  Yes. This deer was just here a moment ago and looks to be traveling West-Northwest at leisurely pace.”

I then look down at the pile of ‘sign’ and say, “Ahhhh. Yes. I agree Matthew.”  Then I reach down and pick up three of the pieces of ‘sign’ and put them in the palm of my hand.  I take one and roll it around between my thumb and finger and say, “Yup.  Hmmm.  Yup.”

Then I pop the ‘sign’ in my mouth and roll it around.  Matthew’s jaw hits his belt-buckle and his eyes are bugged out really far.

I look right at Matthew and say, “Matthew, I think this was a buck.”

I pop another in my mouth, wait a second and say, “Yup, definitely a buck….eight pointer..no…seven pointer. He broke off a piece of antler about…oh…an hour ago in a fight with a…ten pointer”

Matthew starts making a real funny high-pitched sound in his throat and shaking really bad.

I pop the third piece in my mouth and say, “Hmmm. Acorns”

Right after I said “Acorns” , Matthew yacked up everything he had for breakfast since last week.  Then he passed out.

After he wakes up, we all load up in the Love Turtle and drive off.

He was really quiet, which was nice. Really nice.

Nope, we won’t have to take him hunting again. You know, to this day he can’t even look at a chocolate covered peanut or listen to Ted Nugent.

Louise Carpwaller came back into town after our little dust-up in Key West a while back. She got bent out of shape and was chasing me down Duval Street with a steak knife.

It was a deal breaker for me.

Louise is a category six on the bunny boiler scale.  If you don’t know what that means, dust off your copy of Fatal Attraction and watch it again.  In Fatal Attraction, Glenn Close plays this chick who spends one night doing stuff with Michael Douglas, but he is married to Anne Archer. Glenn Close is actually as crazy as Mel Gipson on mescaline and feels like she got done wrong by Michael Douglas. So, she decides to try to get his attention with various hijinks, including boiling Michael Douglas and Anne Archer’s little girl’s pet bunny.  And that is where you get the phrase “Bunny Boiler”. It is a very educational film. Every man should watch it.

Anyway, Louise Carpwaller makes that Glenn Close’s crazy chick look like Maria from The Sound of Music.  Clingy. Just a little bit.

Anywho,  I think a caught a break in that department, because I think Louise done got herself a new victim. She came into the Panky Lube & Tire Emporium while I was balancing out a new set of tires. Louise had this look on her face like she had done won $20 in scratch off cards. You got to be careful when talking with Louise, she could start an argument in an empty house.

She took a deep breath and said, “Elwood, I am seeing someone else.”

“Louise, I need to know who that someone else is.”

“Now Elwood, you don’t need to go start a fight. It’s over between us.”, she said, with just a bit of excited glee in her crazy little eye.

I looked at Louise, and in my most serious and sincere tone said, “Darlin’, I don’t want to beat anyone up.  I want to know who to send the 30 pack of beer and the condolence card to.”

You know, getting hit with a tire iron hurts.  That woman is crazy as a cat in a burlap bag.

That is what leads me to this list. My personal code if you will.

Elwood Jenkins List of Women To Avoid:

1.       Married women.  Guns don’t kill people. Husbands who get home early kill people. Plus, if you root around with some married chick, don’t be surprised when you get home early one day and find her with another man. Or the local vo-tech school’s basketball team. Including the mascot and towel boy. All at the same time.

“I went on Google Earth today. Whose car was that in your driveway June 6, 2008?”

2.       Crazy chicks.
This can be difficult to avoid. Sometimes a woman will look and act completely normal.  This is a trap.  Then one day you get home and she has burned all your high school yearbooks because of something a girl wrote in it 20 years ago. All phone calls will be screened and if you even make eye contact with another woman, you are fooling around on her. Hello Louise Carpwaller, are you reading this you psycho?

3.       Younger women. You might be saying, “Elwood, what the heck!? Younger women are pretty and hot and all put together nice!”  Yes they are, and so you need to ask yourself why would they be hanging around your old, tired butt?  Either you got money, or they got issues.  Let me give you my take on younger women. They are a lot like a fancy sports car. Fun to look at with some really nice curves, but if you plan on driving one for any length of time, it’s probably gonna cost you alot and you are gonna find that it ain’t worth the headache to maintain it. Stick with a good solid American ride.

4.        Vegan hippy chicks. They will try to convert you to living on a diet of beans, tofu and brown rice. You will be sneaking through fast food joints at 11 p.m. at night trying to scarf down a triple cheeseburger. And make sure you get rid of the wrappers and bags if you don’t want a lecture of how “Meat is murder” or how you are responsible for greenhouse gasses.  That brings me to another reason to avoid these chicks. Because of their diet, vegetarians emit more noxious, ozone and nostril hair destroying gasses than the tailpipe of a 1978 Olds Cutlass.

5.       The Man-hater. All men are dogs. All men cheat. All men ruined her life.  Run. Run real far, real fast. He done her wrong, but YOU are gonna pay for it.

If any of you folks want to ask about relationship advice, I will act like I care and maybe answer you on this here website. Go HERE and ask away.

So this chick named Wendy starts sending me e-mails every few days.  At first, I though she was a stalker, and after Louise Carpwaller a man can’t be too careful.  But, it was a woman offering me a job!  All her e-mails had these job schedules attached to them.

Now my nephew Eugene tried to tell me that it was a mistake and that she just put my email address in for some guy name Eric Jenkins and it was all a big snafu.  Plus, he said it was from Australia, and that it didn’t make no sense that she would be trying to recruit me.

After putting Eugene into a Figure Four wrasslin’ hold, I calmly explained that I am a highly sought after Internet celebrity and that she is a woman. And women always find me irresistible.

This is the e-mail I sent back to her:

Dear Wendy,

Hi. My name is Elwood Peterbilt Jenkins from Perry County in Arkansas.

I notice you keep sending me these work schedules attached to emails.  I thought, “Hey, make a little money on the side!”  See my 1981 AMC Pacer that I call the Love Turtle, needs new shocks, a pair of those fuzzy dice you hang from the rear-view mirror and some naked girl chrome thingys to put on the rear mudflaps. So, I was pleased as punch to see you were just gonna give me a job.  I am not surprised, I am a stunningly handsome man who owns his own mobile home and writes his own blog at elwoodjenkins.com.  The attraction is easy to see.

​

Then, I saw that you folks are in Australia.  I am sorry Wendy that that commute is just too much for me.  I wouldn’t make it back in time to watch wrasslin’ on TV and college football season fires up this weekend.

Thank the rest of Australia for Nichole Kidman, Isla Fisher and Hugh Jackman when he plays Wolverine.  And for Mel Gipson before he went nuts and most of AC/DC.

I’m still pissed about The Wiggles.  They creep me out.

Thanks for the job offer!

Your Friend,

Elwood P. Jenkins

P.S. -Read my blog and tell all your friends down there about it at elwoodjenkins.com. I am on Facebook and Twitter too.

P.S.S – Do y’all have a problem with kangaroos jumpin’ out in front of your vehicles like we have with whitetail deer?

P.S.S.S – Are kangaroos good eatin’? Whitetail deer are.