Riding Shotgun has officially premiered! Check out our first batch of Montreal episodes NOW at http://www.youtube.com/user/ZachAnner?feature=watch. Don’t forget to subscribe!
Dear family and friends of Zach Anner and Riding Shotgun,
As it turns out, we were supposed to have a premiere today, but have delayed the launch of Riding Shotgun until the 23rd. I know many of you are asking yourselves, “Why would you do that, you jerk?! Did you finally get a girlfriend and now Blanche is taking up all your time?” The answer is no. Blanche and I broke up two weeks ago. The truth is we needed just a little more time to make the show the best it can be, and to ensure we can consistently deliver myself to you so you don’t go into withdrawals. If you were sitting at home all day waiting for us to deliver videos, I’d like to apologize, but my contract prohibits me from apologizing.
Thanks in advance for enjoying the show.
Today’s winning photo caption, from Autumn Dann: “backroads ADA.”
Today’s winning photoshop, from Redditor DaUsed.
Today’s winning photo-photoshop, from Redditor forogtmypassword.
Today’s winning photo caption, from Katie Greer: “Feed the birds, tuppence a Zach.”
Zach discovers the world’s largest ball of twine… and uncovers the town’s terrifying secret.
Zach sets down his bourbon street hand grenade just long enough to give you an update.
Zach and the gang sneak onto the Dirty Dancing set and seduce your ears with sexy prose. Read the full stories below!
It was the second time in as many days that I felt the weighted gaze of Madeline, Zach’s bosomy new fiance. The first time occurred over drinks at le lac d’alcool, a jazzy place in Paris’ Le Quartier Latin that caters specifically to snooty American expatriates who use words like expatriate.
We sat in the sock-smelling section of the club, Zach and Madeline in front of me, my accountant Krandal to my right. Zach had ordered two pairs of steaming argyle socks for the table, but not to share. When the socks arrived, Zach snatched them up greedily with both hands and forced them into every orifice of his face. “They’re best when they come warm, straight from the feet.” Zach said, between deep inhalations. I heard a sigh faintly escape Madeline’s cranberry shaded lips, and I turned to find her emerald eyes locked on me, searching for something. She batted her thick lashes once, and the corner of her mouth flicked upwards into a smile. She quickly broke the gaze and turned to her fiance. Zach had finished one of the socks, leaving only small strips of plaid thread around his mouth and bib. As he started on the 2nd he said, “Aaron, I think you and Madeline should sit together during my speech tomorrow.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Zach. The seat should be for you when you finish,” I said hesitantly. “Nonsense!” Zach said forcefully, emitting a small powdery cloud of odor-eaters. “You and Madeline will sit at the front table so you can have a good view of me.”
“Zach, I’m not sure…” Suddenly, Madeline cut me off.
“Please, Aaron? I hate going to those bidet conferences without a person to accompany me. I promise I’ll be a good date.”
I looked back to Zach, but he had already fallen asleep. One of his hands clutched Madeline’s breast tightly as he rhythmically breathed in and out.
“Alright, I’ll go,” I said.
So, there I sat, for the second time taking in Madeline’s perfect features…her auburn hair, slightly curled; her gleaming teeth, like baby corn, except white, not yellow. She smiled again. Over her right shoulder, I could see Zach at the podium on the stage. “Bidets can shave two hours of shitting from your day.” I heard his voice echo off of the marble columns in the banquet hall of the Econo-Lodge in Malden, Massachusetts.
Madeline leaned forward and whispered in my ear. “Do you want to get out of here?” The velvet, moist skin of her lips grazed my lobe as she pulled away. That voice, like Mandy Moore’s but with a hint of Horse Whisperer, lingered in my head.
“Maybe I shouldn’t, Madeline.” I said looking up at Zach, now flailing and spitting into his microphone.
Madeline placed her purse on the table and unzipped it. Inside was a rubber glove, olive oil and a crab hammer. She looked at me and bit her lip.
“Let’s shit out of here,” I said, grabbing her arm and rising from the table.