Feel my pain
I farted. It was a rough one. I clearly need to poop, so you know the gas coming out of my ass is extra lethal right now.
There is a mosquito buzzing around in my office. I was already eaten alive by one that got into my bedroom the other night. Apparently the fucker followed me to work. I hope it isn't expecting to get paid.
I had something I wanted to say, but I can't remember what it was. Naturally I began to write anyway, despite having no clear direction or inspiration, because this is, after all, a blog and that's how we roll out on the blog.
Why do people react to cars on the road based on how the assume the car is going to be driven, rather than waiting to see what it does? For example, in my giant 4x4 the old bitches see my gleaming chrome brush guard shining in their rearview mirrors and immediately assume I'm going to ride their asses and scare them. So they just go ahead and start hitting their brakes as if I am doing this. The problem is, I'm not. At least, not until they hit their brakes and bring me up close and personal. Then I sit on my horn and blast them until the long lost miscarriage they didn't know they had come shooting out their vaginas and lands on their gas pedal, causing them to accelerate like mad.
Meanwhile, if I get into a car I have been using from time to time lately, an old light gray generaic GM that looks like something my mom would drive, because she did, I can crawl right up everyone's ass and check them for cancerous polyps and no one even notices. The truth is, I drive like a bat-out-of-hell in that car. I did 90 on the way into work this morning and the cops looked right through me as if I were invisible.
That's 90 mph, not kph. It would be 145 kph for all your feriners owt thar.
I experienced a similar invisibility phenomenon way back in college. It was in an old Buick, come to think of it. I had a 1969 Buick Wildcat with a 430 cubic inch V8 big block motor cranking out 490 foot pounds of torque and 360 horsepower. I did a brake stand and made a huge cloud of smoke one time. Then, with the wheels still spinning, I let off the brake and tore off down the road, making big black tire marks on the pavement and leaving roughly half the tread from my tires behind as I did so.
Better to burn out than fade away
Not 20 feet from where I did this I came flying around a row of trees, only to come face-to-face with a Rocket City cop sitting in his patrol car. He was looking right at me. Or rather, he was looking right through me, clearly searching for the car that had been racing its engine and burning rubber on a public street. He looked right through my car trying to find the culprit. I drove on past him without ever being seen, like something out of a sci fi movie where a guy gains the ability to turn invisible and then goes around groping hot girls tits.
OK, I don't know if they ever made that movie, but let's be honest, this is what we'd do with a power like that if we had it. I sure as hell would.
I love my new invisibility powers!
Anyway, I intend to use my newfound super powers only for good. And by good I mean feeling up the chicks. I already told you that, but I thought you might not have been listening. And also, I just enjoy thinking about it.
So, speaking of Jessica Biel naked, I found out last night that her new movie with her hot naked body dancing on a pole is going straight to DVD. I don't know what that's about, seeing as audiences would line up and pay ridiculous ticket prices to see that girl naked, but I have already put this bitch on pre-order over on Amazon. I even pre-ordered the Blu-Ray version, and I don't own a Blu-Ray DVD player yet. I say 'yet' because this movie is going to inspire me to get one.
Holy bajingos, Jessica Biel dancing naked! I'm so happy I could just cry.
She brings tears to my eyes and a bulge to my pants
Some of my fellow bloggers are clearly funnier and more creative than others. I want to warn all of you in advance, I'm stealing funny pictures off your blogs almost as fast as the Democrats are stealing our nation's future with their $10 trillion 'landmark' deficit spending. A few of you are true geniuses at finding the most obscure and hilarious photos. I thank you for that and I will be reusing them in various future posts. If I ever inadvertently steal and repost a photo that you took yourself, and you don't appreciate it, please feel free to let me know.
"Dear Memphis Cunt,
that photo of the half-naked whore at a big, fat Greek wedding was my cousin. Only I get to laugh at her and post those photos. They are not for you to use. If you don't take them down right away I am going to come to Memphis and make you cry like Tyra Banks on Oprah talking about how she wasn't really abused, but one time she felt as if she was. You get me? I hope we have an understanding here because Memphis is a shithole and I'd hate to have to come there.
Sincerely,
More Creative Blogger Than You"
Damn you, Memphis!
So, I still need to poop. While writing this I have had not merely one, but two new assignments sent to me by way of email. It's not as if I don't already have enough to do. It's simply that the need to poop stirs the creative juices in my head and forces me to release them one way or another. Blogging is my mental form of pooping, apparently. I know you all feel the same. Let's face it, we're all just shitting all over the internet, but it's fun. And also, you never run out of paper.
You have read this article beat me /
blow me /
do me /
eat me
with the title My dick hurts. Will you kiss it until it feels better?. You can bookmark this page URL http://thebohemianbunny.blogspot.com/2009/05/my-dick-hurts-will-you-kiss-it-until-it.html. Thanks!
