You know how it's 99% disgusting to throw-up? It stinks, burns, splashes everywhere, makes your eyes water, and cramps up your stomach muscles. BUT, there is the 1%. That far corner of your mind that you don't want to admit is there in the middle of your five alarm fire of hot mess. It is the part that is enjoying the vomiting process. Hopefully, my blog is that 1% .

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


Last night my buddies and I were having a great night at the rink playing hockey. Then Todd farted and my life changed forever:

Now, no one else can fart for 100 years

I think he changed my gender

I am now unable to parallel park

I am now unable to differentiate between laughing at and laughing with

I mix metaphors

I can no longer conjugate a verb in simple present tense

My semen has the same cleavage ratings as basalt

My right foot grew 2 sizes

I forgot how to drive a manual transmission

I think Justin Bieber has chops

My left nut registers 1 degree warmer than my right one

I ate a Double Down from KFC and lived to tell the tale

I can disobey the law of gravity by throwing a puck in the air and clapping the Star Spangled Banner in Braille

I gutted a Swedish fish with a hairpin

I can no longer see the color blue

Friday, May 14, 2010

My Way

Do not judge me. Okay so I spend all my free time hanging under my kitchen sink subsisting on whatever doesn’t make it through the disposal. And last night, as I scraped the floor of my oven I was overcome with emotion upon the discovery of a year old fish stick. I knew the turnaround between mastication and defecation would be short but for a few brief moments as I dipped the charred Gorton’s tidbit into my homemade blend of bird feces and Colgate Total Advanced Whitening, I was God-like.

I still find it amazing how relatively easy it was to eat the neighbors. Granted we didn’t share political or religious views, I still expected some tinge of guilt or at least a gag. But nothing. I hate to say it, but they were kind of delicious. I guess it’s one of those self-preservation thingies. Try telling me God doesn’t have a plan and I’ll laugh right in your face… before I try to bite off your nose.

In the wee hours of most nights, I can’t help but think wistfully back to what used to be. Oh, the daily rituals consisting of deodorant (non-consumable by the way) application, generous shitting and eager masturbating. Now I consider myself lucky if I get one or two of those pleasures a month. I remember hanging on to every word Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert teased. How I laughed at the morons on Fox News as I made out my Whole Foods grocery list. Thank goodness for Armageddon or I woulda been a pussy my whole life.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Owwww MOM!!!!

Would it really kill the fine people at Body Essence to keep a caged gorilla in the lab basement? Why do I have to be the guinea pig and find out for myself that when your shampoo seeps into my eye it burns like acid? I appreciate your PR attempts but I would appreciate it if I didn’t have to lose my vision in my quest for richer, fuller hair. Get a poodle motherfuckers.