Maybe You Should Go On A Diet

If I die today, I will have died a happy man. An hour ago I saw the greatest and funniest spectacle I have ever witnessed.

There is a lady who works across the hall from me. She is large. Rotund, even. 300+ lbs. Shaped very much like Homer Simpson.

Today, she sat down in at her desk and her chair basically exploded beneath the weight of her enormous ass. It didn't kind of break. It didn't crack a little bit. It fucking exploded. And I was five feet away. I couldn't help myself. I laughed my ass off and didn't even try to contain it.

That made my week. Fuck, that made my entire year. I am laughing as I write this. I wish I had video.

Fucking wonderful.

Observations, Commentary, and Gunshots Pt. II

I'm bringing back my friends Guy 1 and Guy 2 for some more observations and commentary. Enjoy.

Guy 1. "Holy fucking balls! Is he sucking that guy off mid-dive?"

Guy 2: "I thought the dude was facing the other way."

Guy 1: "Is that something coming out of his ass?"

Guy 2: "Please tell me...."

Guy 1: "Awww shit, man. He's giving birth to a chocolate submarine in the middle of free-fall."

Guy 2: "Shit. I'm gonna be sick."

Guy 1: "At least he's not... Fuck. Nevermind, he just did."

Guy 2: "That can't be healthy. Oh. Fuck. Me. Is he really going to lick his finger now?"

Guy 1: "Why are we still watching this shit?"

Guy 2: "Hahahaha. Check out his parachute. It's all twisted. How are they going to...?

*THUD*

Guy1: "I don't think they are."

Guy 2: "Fuck it. Let's go buy new man-purses. I need something made out of leather to ease my stomach."

Me: "Hey douche bags. Time for me to kill you. I thought I did this last week."

*BANG BANG*

Me: *Laughing uncontrollably* "Hahahaha, I really am a sick bastard. Oh, sweet, a parachuting accident. Maybe they were carrying their wallets with them."

God help me.

I Did What? Hell No. Are You Serious? No Way. Really? Aww Fuck

I woke up this morning on the couch in my living room.

No big deal, except I have no clue how I got there. I don't remember leaving Water St. I don't remember getting in a cab. I don't remember anything after midnight.

Here are some highlights of what I do remember:

- First drinks I ordered at Scooters, the bar featuring dollar shots: 10 shots of Jack and 4 whiskey and cokes. Cost: $25. Hell. Yeah. I love drinking top shelf booze for next to nothing.

- Second drinks: I pointed to my drink and then put my other finger on the bar about two feet away. I instructed the (very friendly) bartender to line up shots of Jack from my drink to my finger. Apparently that was 21 shots. Cost: $21. At this point I was beginning to think that I might be doing severe bodily harm by imbibing an unholy amount of booze. Whatever.

- Friend Tom's lovely girlfriend is a bartender. I had always thought that bartenders were endowed with the gift of drink. Apparently I was wrong. Why? Because Friend Tom's lovely girlfriend tossed it. In the bar. Not "she discretely went to the bathroom and heaved." It was more like "she leaned over and yakked while ponied up to the bar." All over Friend Tom, no less. High comedy.

- I have a huge gash in the lower part of my right hand. Obviously, I took a spill last night. I have no recollection of falling.

- My chest is bruised. I'm beginning to think I got punched last night. I wouldn't know, though. As far as I know I could have cured cancer last night.

Tonight will be more of the same. Hopefully I don't wake up wondering how I got where I am.

The best part about all of this: No. Hangover.

Hell yeah.

Tonight I Will Die Or Light A Building On Fire

Tonight is Friend Tom's 24th birthday. We shall be making a visit to Water St. There is a good possibility that one or both of us will be dead by morning. If that is the case, please do not mourn my passing. Instead, help yourself to any of my shit. Except my bread. 'Cause even when I'm dead I'll still be making sandwiches.

Friend Tom probably couldn't have timed his birthday any better. Wednesday night is easily the best night to go to Water. Especially if you are a financially strapped young lad like myself. Why is this?

Dollar. Shots.

This isn't "dollar shots of rail whiskey or warm piss." This is "I'll have 8 Third Reich's, 10 shots of Jack, and 10 SoCo and limes for 28 dollars" dollar shots. And, of course, tonight is dollar High Life night at Brothers. Somebody kick me in the nuts. No one should be this excited about fucking booze.

One more completely unrelated thing: A few days ago I ate a Baconator from Wendy's. It was orgasmic. Seriously, I ate the sandwich and shot a wad in my pants. I am no longer an atheist. The Baconator is now my god. I'm not kidding. I even pray to it.

I fucking love the Baconator.

I haven't written anything thing dodgy and rambling for a while, so I think I should just wrap this shit up here before I hurt myself. I'll end with some sage advice I was recently given:

Don't stick your hand down the sink when the disposal is on.

Wiser words were never spoken.

Praise to thee, Baconator.

Observations, Commentary, and Gunshots

Guy 1: "Yeah, he's definitely about to drop a deuce."

Guy 2: "Fuck me running. That's pretty fucked up."

Guy 1: "You think he smuggled crack across the border?"

Guy 2: "What, like in his ass?"

Guy 1: "Just a thought."

Guy 2: "Actually, you are probably right."

Guy 1: "Holy fucking donkey dick! He just pinched one off on that other guy's shoe!"

Guy 2: "What do you think that third guy is looking at? I'll bet it's a bird."

Guy 1: "Nah, I think a beer truck just drove by."

Guy 2: "What do you think it smells like over there?"

Guy 1: "I would think it's something along the lines of an old diaper mixed with rotting flesh and a coyote turd."

Guy 2: "I think I just died a little bit inside."

Guy 1: "I can't watch this shit anymore. Let's go to the tailor and get new suits."

Guy 2: "I love being a wealthy prick!"

Guy 1: "And later we can play polo at our estates in the Hamptons! Cheers to that."

Me: *Gunshot*

Guys 1 and 2: *Dying* "Oh....fuck..."

Me: *Skips away cheerfully to go shoot the crackheads*

This Is The Greatest Thing Ever

Anyone that has read through this site can discern that I rely heavily upon a few topics for whatever comedic value I may provide. Quite obviously, I make fun of crackheads and homeless people a great deal. Ann Coulter has been a target of mine several times. I often make jokes about beating hookers, and occasionally I rip born-again Christians and Jesus. Reading through this little weblog, one might also discern a perticularly strange interest I have - Sandwiches. Hell yes. I fucking love sandwiches. I love the name. I love the bread. I love the shit that goes between the bread. And for this reason I was fucking ecstatic to learn that August Is National Sandwich Month!

Fuck. Me. Running. I always knew that there should be an entire month dedicated to the greatest of culinary delights. Now I know that there is. God bless the genius that created and organized this most holy of months. Ramadan doesn't have shit on N.S.M.

Oh shit. This is making me fucking hungry. I'm going to go make a sandwich right now. God I fucking love sandwiches!

Rock on sandwich.

I Feel A Hate Crime Coming On

A while back I was reading through some of the things I have written about here and I came upon my Racists and Assorted Dumbasses post. I have always liked that, and rereading it I felt even better than I did when I told that stupid little racist to cram it. Because of this, I was slightly confused after a series of events occurred at the Milwaukee County Courthouse. I wasn't even going to write about this because it is fucking stupid, but whatever, I get to choose what I write about.

This week I was sent to the Milwaukee County Courthouse to make copies of various permits and other documents that some of the attornies in my office needed. I happily obliged because it means I get to leave the office and I get to pretend I'm important for an hour. So I went to the courthouse and copied the documents. As I was leaving, however, I was stopped by a fat black lady who was standing in front of the courthouse. (Note: The front of the courthouse is prime crackhead real estate. Panhandling in the area is insane and it is always crawling with people looking for lawyers to get their kids out of jail or shit like that). This lady explained to me that she was there because she had several outstanding fines and tickets in her name and was in need of legal representation. She asked if I would be her lawyer. This wasn't the first time someone has asked me to act as their legal representative and usually when I explain that I am not a lawyer they realize that this means I cannot represent them. Not this lady. After I told her that I am not a lawyer and could not represent her she continued to ask for legal advice. I explained that in addition to being unable to legally represent her I could not dispense legal advice, and that it is, in fact, illegal to do so if one is not a licensed attorney.

Her response to all of this: "Man, fuck you. You a racist muthafucka."

Excuse me? Look, I am pretty crude, I swear a lot, I drink far too much, I generally harbor contempt for most people, hell, I even scratch my nuts in public if I feel the need, but I cannot remember ever doing or saying anything that would make anyone think that I am truly a racist. This woman, though, apparently thought that my inability to help her was indicative of an incredible level racism. I wondered: Is she an angry cunt or simply retarded?

My response: "Yeah, I can see what you mean. But you are a fat lowlife and I don't spend my time in front of the courthouse begging for a lawyer."

Maybe I should have just called her a nigger. (Side note: I'm kidding. Or am I? No, I am)

I don't even know what to make of this. That porked-out oyster ditch really thought I was a racist. Functionally retarded does not even begin to describe that tubby fuck.

So I guess I'm a racist now. Jesus Christ, I wonder what it makes me if I decide not switch phone providers. Am I a serial killer then?

I should have just ran her over with my car. I'm glad I didn't, though. I can only imagine the size of the dent she would have put in the hood.

I guess I'm moving to the South and waving a Confederate flag.

Praise the Lord and pass the ammo!

Stupid bitch.