This morning I ate something that didn’t like me very much, so when I got to work, it was time to do a bombing run over lake Standard, if you know what I mean. It was none too pleasant, and the bathroom in our department, although private, is unisex, and that matters. If it were a men’s only bathroom, I would have washed my hands, laughed, and walked out. I also would have wanted to put my ear to the door when the next dude went in to hear his screams of agony. As it was, I did my best to evacuate the room of all air before I left. I flipped the switch that controls the fart fan, and discovered to my extreme disappointment that it was broken. I went about the task of masking the scent of a freshly slaughtered cow with a can of really cheap air freshener. Bathroom air fresheners are funny, because they all come in great scents like Apple Cinnamon and Berry Field Fresh. I always thought the reason for a bathroom air freshener was to hide the fact that you were just in there squeezing the essence of evil out of your butt, not to make the next person who came in there think that the last person wiped their ass with a pastry. Wouldn’t the best and only scent be “Turd-free Bathroom”? Anyway, I held the can at arm’s length and filled the room with “Magi-Scent Piña Colada Breeze”. Now it smells like a coconut farted.

I went to the gym during my lunch hour, and since I don’t have a padlock for a locker, I wrapped my wallet and cell phone in my underwear. No dude is going to fondle another guy’s taint ridden boxer briefs for $7 and an expired credit card. Keep that under your collective hat. Consider that fact if you ever want to borrow my phone or any money. I also forgot my tennis shoes, but being one of those people who makes fun of the color coordinated shinyshirts at the gym, I opted to work out in my torn shorts, black Rockport dress shoes, and white socks.

I kick more ass with my little finger than you do all day.

My theory is that when you take a shower at the gym, you leave much dirtier than you came in. How there hasn’t been a resurgence of bubonic plague starting at the LA fitness on Peachtree Road is beyond me. I thought the bathroom floor was carpeted, but it was just a ton of body hair that had formed a non-skid pubemat.

This evening I am going to meet a couple of chicks I met on the internet.

When the Ladyfriend finds out, she’s going to be pissed, so I might need a place to stay for a while.

Just kidding. She’s coming too. Of course when I e-mailed her telling her the plan, I could almost hear her eyebrow shooting up as she typed in “Oh, and why are you meeting two girls?” I wanted to say “Have you looked at me lately? Do you really think two girls are coming to town so I can put a little pork in their tornadoes?” So adoreable, that Ladyfriend. At least I know she cares. By the way, if I am not heard from after today, Snowcat and Honeypot904 have killed me and/or are keeping me in the trunk of their car for their sick perverted pleasure. Call my cell phone and see if I like it before calling police.

Here’s a good critter-in-the-house story that didn’t happen to me for a change. My friend and weightlifting pal, CRam (short for CRamsdale, which is short for whatever his real name is) had a bug get into his apartment and almost kill him. I will transcribe the story as it was told to me…

He came home and heard something that sounded like a cat trying to climb the blinds in his room, and went in to check it out, armed with a large purple dildo. He wouldn’t tell me what was up with that, but I didn’t press the issue. He said the blinds were getting the crap knocked out of them, swaying wildly to and fro, and he heard the flapping of mighty wings on the window that he thought was a bat or a turkey or something. He lifted the blinds to find that it was in fact the most enormous insect he had ever seen. The damn thing was just over five inches long. He said he hit it a few times with the Rectifier (apparently the name of the dildo in question, and yes, I need to have a talk with him), and it only stunned the beast. It stayed still long enough for him to snap this picture-

To clarify, a Compact Disc is about 4.725” in diameter. Go get one of your compact discs. Now pretend it is an insect crawling on your face and see if you can stop yourself from breaking your own nose. Sucky, huh? The insect monster thing took the phallus from CRam and brutally raped him with it before falling asleep long enough for CRam to run over it with a wheelbarrow full of porn magazines. We don’t know what it is, but my theory is that it has something to do with how close Mars is to Earth right now. The problem with the Southeast is that the growing season pretty much never ends. From that we get mosquitoes the size of canned hams, and whatever the hell that thing is. This afternoon, we are going to see if we can tan its pelt and make a throw rug. CRam wanted to make a cape and matching purse. He’s been living in midtown too long.*

I guess I should go do my job for a while now.

*I am kidding about Cram and everything that has to do with insinuating that he is the least bit fruity. He is as straight as an arrow made of rulers.

Trackback URI |