Even more honky, even more extreme

They found me drunk and wearing someone else’s clothes
How I got there no one knows
Drunken, crazed out of my mind
Chasing shadows through the holes of time



What does it take to get out of this place? At this particular moment, I am willing to chew through the concrete block and shit gravel for a week. Anything for the cause. The only other exit is the window and that would no doubt lead to some broken bones. That’s not really an attractive option. Not that gut gravel is a lot better. Sometimes, I think some folks just enjoy hearing themselves talk and they probably lead a much fuller life than bitter people like me. Maybe I should be remotely interested, but I am unapologetically not. I really just don’t give a shit. Call me shallow or small-minded, but it’s silly shit any way you slice the lump.



Today is one of those days when I feel like I’ve passed through someone’s colon. Chewed up and shit out right into the toilet. Rather than take the trip through modern sewage systems, I am plucked, dressed, and ready to roll with my day. Thankfully, no one seemed to notice my origins. I blame any lingering funk on the dog. Any dog. For all I know, I could have even emerged from the sphincter of the funky dog to begin with. It might even have resulted from one of those scoot sessions across the carpet. I have pretty much ruled that one out since I didn’t wake up caked into the carpet fibers. I would consider this to be a good thing, but it hasn’t made the sun shine any brighter on my day. Shit is shit, no matter the source.



T-shirt slogan: “Heaven doesn’t want us and Hell is afraid we’re gonna take over.”
Both places probably have a strict dress code that prohibits lame ass t-shirt slogans.



If you want to see the monkey dance, you’ve got to pay the monkey.



Stop in the Name of the Fashion Police

What some people do in the name of fashion really amazes me sometimes. I’m sitting here pimping the workplace and a crowd of 3-4 people crowd around my table. From my Kodak instant photo of the moment, I’d say the two-ish chicks were a part of the dude’s posse. Now, whether or not he wanted a posse is anyone’s guess. But from my seated position, I look up to see one of the posse chicks wearing a half-shirt type of deal with a white belly spilling out from the shirt. To add insult to injury, the cloud-like belly had a big black ring. I don’t know what she was thinking, but damn, cover that shit up…now. I shouldn’t made snide remarks, because if she’s cool with it, I should just deal with it or preferably just look away. But she had it all out there for mass visual consumption and that’s not good for anyone. It scared me. It really did. I felt slight twinges of guilt when she left and told me to have a nice day. I know that I’m all soft and pillowy, but my shit’s covered.



Did you blow a goat to get cab fare home? Did he treat you like a lady and wine you and dine you? Just the thought makes me feel like a man. So much, that I crave beef jerky and ESPN—the very essence of the manly existence. Let me scratch myself. Ah, much better.



Is it enough to watch me die or do you want to see me bleed? Bleeding in a cinematic way like on the silver screen. Will I whisper something dramatic with my final breath or die like an outdated machine? The choice is mine and the choice is yours. How do you want it?



I’m a part-time superhero.



From a flyer swiped from the college door:

“If your interested in Young Children Come
join us for Pizza and Drinks as we
elect officers/plan activities/and have fun.”

Far be it for me to poke fun at the grammar, but you know that if I spot errors, then it must drive the English instructors completely nuts to see such errors. I won’t go there, because that’s not really funny. The English instructors going completely ballistic is kind of funny, though.

I’m sure that this is a wonderful club to join, but to me, it sounds like an invite for pedophiles. They’re “interested” in young children, so to speak, and who could resist the temptation of pizza and drinks? The desire to “have fun” is just an added perk. It sort of goes hand in hand with all of the other components.

Obviously, there is nothing funny about pedophiles, but the flyer itself seems very ironic as far as the wording. It’s just not right. The cute little clip art just makes it even creepier.

Hopefully, I’m the only oddball that would be amused by it all. I wish I could have attended the meeting to see how many trench coats were present. Now that is funny. Go ahead. Laugh. It’s okay.