Wednesday, June 23, 2010

At the Gay Bar.

I recently went bar-hopping with my mother.
Somehow during the night we ended up dancing at a gay bar.

Now, when I dance at bars, I get really into it. And by really into it, I mean I dance like the biggest moron on the planet.
For some reason, drunk people just think I am the most amazing dancer in the universe.

Now, keep in mind, that I've also had quite a few PBRs throughout the evening and anyone who drinks this gloriously cheap beer should know, that it gives you some pretty intense stinky ass bombs.

So, this very petite little gay boy decides to start dancing around me.

After a while we start inching closer and the next thing I know, he is on his knees dancing with HIS FACE SHOVED IN MY CROTCH!

I was so drunk at that point that I didn't even give a shit.
Except that by now my ass was billowing out noxious fart winds and filling the entire dance floor with a beautiful aroma...

He didn't seem to mind. He just kept right on dancing with his nose right up in my vagina.

Afterwards, my mother and I were in a gas station parking lot screeching at four in the morning and cramming square mini-burgers into our mouths...
She said "Man, that dance floor kinda smelled kinda bad."
And I drunkenly scream-whispered back "YEAH, BECAUSE I WAS RIPPING ASS ALL OVER THE DAMN DANCE FLOOR!"

A True Story.


Tuesday, June 22, 2010


Sometimes, I get so frustrated that my brain just shuts down and my caveman instincts take over.

A good example of this happened during an outing at a popular breakfast hangout with my full-on compadre, Max.
She was trying to pepper her hashbrowns.
And it absolutely drives me insane that the pepper holes on a pepper shaker are that small.

It fills me with such a rage, that sometimes I just throw up right there.

Well, this particular time, I decided to show Max, that if you just unscrew that cap, you can pour the pepper much quicker, thus saving lots of time.

This resulted in Max dumping about 8 pounds of pepper onto her hashbrowns at once.

I assured her that it would be okay. All I needed to do, was stir around her hashbrowns around.
...With my fingers.

Monday, June 21, 2010

My Soccer Career.

I played soccer for a few years in elementary school. I also took ballet.
I preferred ballet, so I spent most of my time doing pliƩs across the field.
That's probably why they made me the "goalie protector". I think they just made that position up for me because they weren't sure if I was mentally challenged or not.

I only made one goal during my entire soccer career.
I remember somehow getting the ball and deciding that today would be the day I made a goal.
I was running down the field so fast that none of the other kids even bothered trying to catch up with me.

As I neared the goal, everyone started going wild and cheering for me!

I waved at all of my admirers as I was getting ready to kick the ball!

I kicked the ball into the goal with such ferocious intensity, that the goalie just jumped out of the way!

I was so happy that I made my first goal!

Suddenly, I realized that I had actually scored for the opposing team.
And those cheers were actually people trying to warn me that I was going the wrong way.

I never played soccer again.