His And Her Circumstances - Results

This was an interesting contest. For starters, a lot of people mis-understood the rules and thought the stories had to be in some way related to the "His and Her Circumstances" Anime. Fortunately enough people also realized that the contest entries only had to relate to the phrase "His and Her Circumstance." We should have been more clear about the topic and we apologize to anyone who was confused by it.

The next interesting thing was that the majority of the entries weren't very funny at all. For the most part this lack of humour wasn't due to the inability of the contestants to write humour, but rather their decision to send us more serious stories. Some of these stories were very uplifting, others very, very sad. We even received one expertly written poem.

This made life hard, some of the best entries weren't funny at all. But in the end, the rules did state that the winners would be the ones that made us laugh, and we decided to stick with that rule.

So without further delay, the five winners:

From "HMB":

I'm unsure about women. I've spent the last two years attempting to create a life free from them. At first thought, I have no story with "her circumstances". "She" doesn't exist.

At least, she shouldn't. There are women in my family, people I have to have in my life to some extent. That can't be avoided, not in any sane way. There's another sticking point, though. A crack in the wall about five and half feet tall, with a hick laugh and a healthy Catholic libido.

I figured out what I liked young, too young to really understand what it meant. I assumed everyone worked the way I did, not really caring about what someone packed between their legs. Pretty was pretty. She figured out what she liked later, though. Old enough to know what other people thought about it.

So we met in high school, and spent a few years getting close. I was figuring out what being queer meant to me, and she was starting to wonder why all she felt of sex was bored. So we talked about it. Always in a specific place, always in a specific way.

When you live in the same block long enough, people expect certain things of you, what you wear, say, how you act. It wouldn't have helped her much if the neighbors found out they'd been handing their kids over to an in-the-flesh lesbian babysitter. So we had to talk somewhere safe.

A Ford Explorer with the windows up and the volume cranked was soundproof enough for the both of us.

So we crisscrossed the gravel roads out where I lived, listening to U2 if she was hurting, The Misfits if I was. We talked about what God thought, what the Pope thought, short skirts, big tits, rape, cartoons, my man-breasts and her big ass. All the biggies, really. A bunch of things that were earth shattering at the time, and are still good for some laughs when we're together now. At the time, we were all the "gay community" we needed.

So now she's on the East Coast, doing her big gay thing. We write each other when we remember to, and she flies me out her Dad's millions when it seems like a good idea.

She's the only woman I know, and she's my favorite person in the world. She's my lesbian, I'm her bitch, and those are our circumstances.

from Felicia Becerra:

Mike was the 24-year-old I met on the bus to the community college twenty minutes away. He never failed to wear all black, nor did he ever fail to fascinate me. He intrigued me, becoming a muse for me in several prose pieces and poems that I wrote.

I decided I wanted his phone number before spring break. He never gave me his last name, so the phonebook was out of the question. He went to school Monday through Thursday, but never Friday, and I was determined to have his phone number. I made it my goal as I hoped and hoped.

The week before spring break passed quickly. Anxiously anticipating each conversation with Mike every morning, I soon found myself waiting at the bus stop Friday morning with little hope left. I was disappointed at the lack of Mike-no-last-name's phone number, the lack of his last name to acquire it through the phonebook and the lack of more time to obtain either. Damn.

Bored and disappointed, I took note of the boys in the back of the bus in front of me as I waited for mine. One was a big, stocky guy, the other the skinny-nerdy type - but still cute in a way only nerdy boys can be.

They noticed me, too, and stirred about as the bus driver smoked outside on break. A girl joined them and I saw they began to make motions at me. I pretended to not see them, but one of the boys rapped against the window to catch my attention.

The girl got up and placed a white piece of paper up against the window. On it had been scrawled in black marker, “CALL MIKE” and a phone number. My heart began to race. I had helped Mike earlier in the week find the contact information for an old teacher of his he loved dearly - did he want to thank me? Or was there something more he wanted to tell me?

One of the boys pushed the girl back in her seat. Defiant, she leaned toward the window and opened it, shouting, “Mike wants you to call him!” She held her arm out to give me the piece of paper. I got up from the bus bench and walked to the open window.

Curious and excited, I took the piece of paper from her hand. I still wanted to find out Mike's last name, I figured I could use it to look him up in our high school yearbooks and see what he looked like years ago. Freshman pictures are always cute, embarrassing, and dorky - I doubted his would be an exception. “Mike?” I asked, “You know Mike? Mike who? Which Mike?”

The stocky guy pushed the nerdy one playfully. “Oh?” he asked him, “What now? Now you're all embarrassed?”

The skinny boy cowered behind his backpack, allowing me to see only his coke-bottle glasses and hair that resembled a bird's nest.

He said nothing, but just looked at me and then I understood who Mike was.

Saying nothing, I went back to the bus bench and sat down to wait for my bus. The girl shut the window and the bus drove away, the driver was done with his cigarette that lay beside me on the ground.

I became lost in my thoughts. It was the Friday before spring break, and in my hand was a crumpled piece of paper with Mike's phone number.

I suppose I must be more specific next time I wish for someone's phone number.

What's in a name? by Michael Camilleri

It was a cold winter evening when we met for the second time. I was on the bus coming home from school after spending the last two hours work at the library. She was on her way home after tutoring. I folded up my newspaper, she sat down next to me and we started to talk.

I think we talked about anime. I didn't really care. I mean we were talking! For the second time! To put things into perspective: up until this point (relatives excluded) the sum total of my time spent talking in the company of the opposite sex had to be somewhere in the vicinity of zero. I'd never had a girlfriend. I'd never really talked to a girl. At least not a real life girl. I'm never sure about the 14 year old supermodels from Connecticut you meet in chat rooms.

My life at that point in time seemed perfect. Well, almost perfect.

There was one problem. I couldn't quite remember her name.

I think it started with an ‘A’.

Or maybe a ‘C’.

While my knowledge of women up until this was hardly extensive I was pretty sure that knowing the girl's name was important. But, having pretended to remember who she was when she'd introduced herself the first time we'd met I couldn't very well now (four weeks later) casually drop the line “Oh, by the way, your name was...?”.

Now I'm not a brave man. You know when somebody would be talking in a class at school and the teacher would pull everyone up and say that if the person who talked didn't step forward they'd be a coward? Well they were talking about me. I'm as yellow as they come and certainly not one to admit that I didn't know somebody's name. Particularly if it was a somebody I liked.

So of course rather than ask her what her name was I did my best to find out through other, more covert, means. If this all sounds a lot like that Seinfeld episode you're on the right track. That was my life.

I tried looking at her stuff. She hadn't written her name on anything. I tried finding out the names of all Asian girls at her school. There were too many. I attempted to harness latent psychic powers I hoped I had. They remained latent.

When, a few months later, she informed me that she was changing shifts and wouldn't be able to catch this bus any more, let me just say that things weren't looking good. What am I saying? I felt like my world was about to end and I was powerless to stop it. After all, what could I do? I couldn't ask for her phone number. If she didn't answer who was I going to ask for?

It was at that point that the powers that be decided to intervene. It'd only taken them 6 months.


I turned. Somebody was calling her. A friendly somebody. Somebody who was her friend! Her friend would use her name! I'd hear her name and know who she was! I'd be able to pretend I'd known all along! I was saved!

Her friend sat down and they exchanged pleasantries before the bus girl began to introduce us.

“Julie,” she said. “I'd like you to meet... ummm...” she paused uncomfortably. “Look, I'm really sorry about this but I can't quite remember your name.”

* * * *

On the 22rd December we will have been going out for three years.

From John Tozzi:

This is a story of how shared interest in a famous actor once caused a hysterical situation for my sister and myself.

I have been a huge Kevin Kline fan for years. Ever since I saw him in A Fish Called Wanda, I have been a huge admirer of his. Well, imagine my surprise one day when my sister emails me and tells me that a movie starring Kevin Kline will be shooting on location at her company. She works for a boarding school, and the movie in question is the to-be-released-later-this-year-movie entitled The Palace Thief. So, every day, during filming, her and her friends would hang out and watch the filming, and waiting for a chance to get close to him.

Well, one day, they got lucky, and he starts to walk down the path towards them all, and they are frantically taking photos. He stops, looks to them, and says "I'm sorry, am I going too fast for you?" and they all laugh. One of them works up the nerve to ask if he would mind if he could stop and pose with them, so they could get some photos. He was only too happy to oblige.

So, it comes time for my sister to stand next to him, and she and I will laugh about this for years....as she is standing next to him, she says "You know, my brother is a big fan of yours"...and in that way that he has, he looks at her and says "As opposed to you who what, just doesn't care?"....well, that was enough to get everyone laughing. And as I said, she and I continue to laugh about it to this day, and will everytime his name comes up.

The movie will be released later this year. I know that as I sit in the theatre watching it, I will undoubtedly remember that story, and laugh. People in the audience will have no idea why I am laughing at a moment when the movie isnt funny, but that will be ok. Somewhere, on the other side of the country, will be someone else sitting in a theatre laughing for the same reason.

From AnimeAdmirer: First Date Fiasco

I can't believe he actually asked me out! Me! What was the kicker? Could it be the sexy way I wore my hair today or maybe it was that silly joke. I swear he was snickering at the joke. Whatever it was, this gorgeous piece of eye candy wanted to take me (nothing out of the ordinary... 15, somewhat clumsy, brilliant (duh), and just plain clueless) out to dinner Friday night. Shudder, what the heck am I going to wear?? Uh oh, worse yet, can I even go?

“Now, I know I'm not 16 yet, but it's only a few months away. Please, can't you make an exception? This could be a once in a lifetime offer.” Oh great, my brother overheard, and he's adding his own two-cents. “Not that jerk!” were his words, “He's way too into himself.” My father's left eyebrow just went up an inch, “Can this kid be trusted?” Thank goodness the begging paid off, and I was allowed to go just as long as I was home before midnight. (Gee, where are my glass slippers?)

Friday already? If this time-activated antiperspirant doesn't start kicking in, I'm going to need to change the outfit it took me forever to pick. Groan, why did my sister and her husband have to come over tonight? Everyone wants to see my first date... oh the humiliation! Was that the doorbell I hear?

Well, there he is. Meeting everyone doesn't seem to bother him, but it's sure giving me an anxiety attack. Oh, please don't embarrass me, please don't embarrass me!
Finally we're out of there.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Look out!”

Mr. Wonderful had to take that last glimpse of himself from the window's reflection. In doing so, he missed the first step leading down from our porch and landed head first into our meticulously landscaped shrubs. I surprised myself by keeping my composure and acting genuinely concerned. (Where is that Oscar for Best Actress?) As we drove to the restaurant making idle chitchat, I kept thinking how agonizing it was stifling this laughter especially since there were a couple leaves left strategically placed in his hair.

Dinner? How do I describe it best? A one-man cheerleading squad for his own team sounds about right. Just how long can one person talk about their biceps or their workout regimen? Is that a piece of spinach he has on his tooth? Should I tell him? Nahhh.

The date is finally winding down. As if! Don't close your eyes and pucker. I grabbed his hand, thanked him for a great time, and ran inside as fast as I could. Glad nobody was around. In my joy to be home, I kneeled on the floor and kissed the carpet. What did I learn from this experience? No matter what anyone says... . LOOKS AREN'T EVERYTHING!

Congratulations to the five winners, they will each receive their DVDs shortly after we receive them from TRSI, thank you to all the entrants, and an especially big thank you to TRSI for sponsoring this contest.

If you didn't win you can pick up a copy of the Kare Kano with Box here:

or a copy of the regular DVD here:

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