My Neighbor’s Penis

Thursday, March 27, 2008

I live in an over priced pathetic little studio apartment on the third floor. I am directly across this little street from a large apartment and I can see everything my neighbors do through their windows. Being that I already know that I’m going to hell because I am such an enormous sexual pervert, I fully indulge myself in voyeurism when the opportunity comes my way. Being a voyeur isn’t really my cup of tea, but I’m not going to turn away whenever fate smiles upon me by giving me a curvy and single Nubian M.I.L.F. that sleeps naked in the apartment across the street from mine.

I know she is an official M.I.L.F. because she has a son. I’m guessing he’s about 13 or 14 years old. He’s the classic tall and slender black kid that’s probably naturally gifted in various sports; such as basketball, baseball, football, wrestling, tennis, track and field, golf, soccer, volleyball, dancing, and basically any activity that includes physical strength and coordination. His room is directly across from my kitchen window and he usually keeps the blinds shut. That’s fine with me because I’m not really into the whole wanting to suck dick and fuck man-ass thing. I prefer to watch his mother instead.

Well this kid had a girl over tonight and he left his bedroom light on with the blinds open. I’m a huge fucking loser in the sense that I haven’t gotten laid in almost three months now, so I was hoping that I could enjoy a night of living vicariously through my high school ass getting neighbor kid by watching him log jam a hot girl in his bedroom. I probably would have touched my penis if that had happened, just to make it more realistic for me. Well the girl left and then he shut his bedroom door. He left the lights on and his blinds open, and then he sat down at his computer. I lost interest and I started scrambling some eggs because I’m broke and eggs are cheap.

After frizzling my eggs, I was putting the pan in the sink. The window is right over the sink and I could clearly see the neighbor kid skinning a giant 12-inch black carrot that was protruding straight out from his lap. He was beating his dick like it owed him money and he looked totally pissed off about it. I watched for a couple minutes because it isn’t very often that you get to see someone grip-fuck themselves with such an angry look on their face. The thing that caught my attention the most wasn’t the fact that he was rigorously winding his clock or that I could see his mother calmly cooking in the kitchen while he was doing it. What really stood out to me was the fact that this kid’s dick was HUGE. I could fit like four of my dicks into this kid’s one single dick. The whole black is bigger thing is true. That motherfucker. I lost interest after a couple minutes of watching this conkey-donged bastard shuffle his stack with the speed and aggression of a starving pit bull. So I watched ‘Deal or No Deal’ and then I farted around with my cell phone for 20 minutes or so.

After about an hour and a half, maybe two hours; I went to the sink to get a glass of water. That motherfucker was still hammering away on his fucking love log and he was still doing it at a fairly rapid pace. So not only does this asshole have an enormous dick but he’s got insane fucking stamina and stay power too. At first I was a little shocked to see him still going at it, but then these feelings of new insecurities flooded my mind. I can no longer imagine fucking his mom because even though he is her son, and I very highly doubt she’s had sex with her son, she has however seen his penis. So she knows that these giant legendary dicks are out there, and I know the look on her face after seeing my little white popsicle stick would haunt me for the rest of my life and would make my lady getting abilities even more laughable. I also know that if I ever have a girl over or I’m dating a girl while living here, I can never introduce her to my neighbor. As far as the stamina thing goes, maybe he’s just bad at masturbating. I mean, nobody on this planet knows their way around my dick better than I do. So when I jerk off it is all business, and I close shop pretty quick. But still, how the fuck do you masturbate continuously for 2 hours without losing it?

It’s like I’ve found the true reason behind the racial tension between the black and white populations. I don’t hate black people now, I just hate these athletic looking black kids with huge dicks. Their only purpose on Earth is to steal our white women, and to pollute their minds with thoughts of enormous chocodile dongs and to wreck their wombs so that the white seed from my delicate little penis will be unable to find it’s purchase in their plowed and up-heaved pussy pastures. Motherfuckers.

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Little People

Friday, February 8, 2008

I don’t have shit to do on Friday’s now, so once again I have managed to spend an entire 24 hours inside of my apartment. Having a weekday off is sort of a double edged sword. If I really want to I can get a lot of things done while everyone else is at work, but more often than not I spend an entire day confronting my laziness.

That isn’t the point of this post though. I just finished watching a news story on ’48 Hours’ or ’20/20′ or ‘The View’ or ‘Nightly News with Bryant Gumble’ or whatever the name of the fucking ‘tard ass news show that reported the story of a 6’4″ man getting a 2’10” woman pregnant was. Besides how completely revolting it was to imagine the sight of a 6 foot 4 inch man piling into a 3 foot toad without wearing a condom, the news report made me notice just how completely stupid it is that society must stop using the word “midget”. When did the word midget become so fucking horrible that we had to change the term to an extremely wide ranging and vague term as “little people”? Children are little people, the elderly can sometimes be little people, people that are shorter than the person who is addressing them can all be called “little people” by the taller person, Danny Devito is a little person, the list of individuals that can be called little people is far too wide to try to use it on a specific group of people.

There is an extremely obvious difference between a 4 year old kid that’s 3 feet tall, and a 30 year old that’s the same height. Granted that both of them are little people, but one of them is so completely different that there really does need to be a proper term for them. I mean, telling your friends that you accidentally pissed on the head of a “little person” because you didn’t see him standing in front of the urinal really isn’t specific enough. Your friends would think you just pissed on a little kid or pretty much anyone shorter than yourself and that would make you look like a pervert or some kind of a weirdo. “Little person” is too vague to explain something so completely freaky as dwarfism.(I had a long and funny explanation of what would put a person into the category of midget at the beginning of this paragraph, but after reading it again I realized that it was way too fucking mean for me to openly post it. That’s a first.)

Why is the word “midget” so bad anyway? We’ve had to stop calling “African Americans” black, we stopped calling “Native Americans” Indians, we can’t categorize all “Hispanics” and “Latinos” as Mexicans anymore, and now we have to replace a term so perfectly specific as “Midget” with the wide open term “Little People”. Now if you tell me that your dance teacher is an African American, then naturally I assume that your teacher is of darker complexion because they are of African descent. If you tell me your gardner is Hispanic, then I can instantly create a mental picture of your gardner’s skin tone and what kind of car they drive. If you tell me that you had your nails done by an Asian lady, then I immediately know the racial profile of your nail technician because of her continental lineage. However, if you tell me that you bought cotton candy from a “little person” at the circus then my mind is left completely wide open as to what the person looked like. You cannot label an entire group of very different people with a vague height description.

If you’re not going to use the word midget then come up with a new fucking word. Just because you’ve been genetically banned from riding on roller coasters does not give you the right to have a monopoly on a term with such wide meaning as “little people”. If you don’t like the word midget then come up with a new word that you do like. Maybe call yourself “nuggets” or “trolls” or something that will at least give people a good idea of what you look like. You can even call yourselves something really awesome, like “knee hize” or “micromen” or “tiny extremez” or some neato word us normal people haven’t even heard before. That would be pretty bad ass. I wish I could come up with some really cool term that would give people a good idea of my appearance just by saying it. Instead I just have to tell people that I’m white. I really don’t see what these “little people” are bitching about.

A change for the best

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Over the course of one month, I have begun going to film school, I have gone to the porn awards in Las Vegas, I have gotten laid, I have successfully jump started my own car, I have quit my shitty job, and I have come to fully realize exactly what I want to do with my life. Why I am so happy that I could just shit.

I feel this huge sense of relief now that I finally know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life. I am going to write and direct movies/shows, make lots of money, drive a GT Lamborghini LS-HoverCraft, and have casual sex with extremely attractive unemotional women that are obedient home servants to me because they are social retards. I fucking love this whole film school thing. It is exactly what I’ve been looking for. I haven’t officially made an actual movie so to speak, but I tend to take the part of director during the group film thingys because everyone likes the way I “visualize” scenarios, and that has showed me that I can be a leader as well as giving me a huge sense of satisfaction in being a director. The teachers even like the film thingys that I direct and even more so how I edit them. Directing is so fucking awesome and easy that I don’t understand why societies still have occupations like garbage truck drivers, janitors, cannon fodders, gloryhole sweepers, and surgeons. Everyone on the planet should either want to be an actor or a director.

One of my script teachers told me that she thinks I am a very natural writer because of the e-mail I sent her explaining my absence from class the other day. You see, I was absent because I had accidentally left my headlights on and my battery was dead. Being that I didn’t leave my apartment until noon, I didn’t have enough time to find somebody to help me jump start my car and still get to class on time. I only live about four or five blocks from the school, but it was cold and there was like three inches of snow on the ground, and I’m not going to walk through that shit. That wasn’t the e-mail that I sent her but that was the actual reason that I missed the class. She said that my explanation of the circumstances seemed naturally funny and entertaining, and that showed her that I had a natural talent for explaining simple situations in an entertaining way. Shitting-A man, I have found my talent and that feels great.

The only down side of this film school thing is the amount of time it requires. All of the teachers gave us a sort of warning during the first day of classes, saying that if we don’t have a lot of free time outside of class or at least very flexible work schedules, then we should strongly reconsider going to this school. Seeing the incredible amount of reading, homework assignments, weekend filming projects, and the fact that each class is 3-4 hours long, I’ve realized that the teachers weren’t just jerking me off when they said that. So it’s a damn good thing that I quit that job when school started, but now it’s fucking impossible to find a new job when I tell them my time schedule. Every fucking business on this planet is now owned by some monster corporation, and corporations are heartless empires that don’t have the slightest care in the world for their lower level employees. I just want to find some kind of mom and pop owned store or something to work at and I can’t find anything even remotely close to that. Small businesses are everywhere in my hometown of Bumfuck Nebraska, but they’re nowhere to be seen in the urban metropolis of Denver. I really need a fucking job right now and every place I apply to seems to consider working 39 hours a week as being part time, because that way they are getting full time workers but they don’t have to pay benefits because I wouldn’t be working a full 40 hours a week. At least that was the shit that Sports Authority tried to pull, even though I ended up working 70 plus hours a week sometimes. What a fuckhead greedy world we live in these days.

That’s why I’m deciding to be rich someday. So I can give something back to all of the large breasted blonde bimbos that can’t get a job because they’re illiterate or because they’ve been categorized into an unfair stereotype due to their frequent knob slobbering with strangers. As I said, I am good at visualizing things, and I want to make this unfair world realize my vision. I envision a world where working 8 hours a week is considered working overtime, where women instinctively know that shorter guys have bigger dicks, where health insurance isn’t only free but it includes unlimited nurse given handjobs to help keep social aggression at a minimum, a world where MTV still shows music videos, a planet that embraces global warming because I fucking hate cold weather, a world without toilets because adult diapers are much more logical and time saving, an America that treats mental depression with marijuana and glazed blueberry Krispie Kreme doughnuts rather than using harmful narcotic based drugs, and the list goes on but I can’t think right now because that last vision has made me really hungry. So now I’m going to turn off my computer and find something to eat.

My New Year’s resolution

Sunday, January 6, 2008

I quit my shit-sucking job of selling exercise equipment for a total douche whip excuse of a boss yesterday. It was actually caused by a big mix up on the schedule that eventually led to me saying, “Well what fuckin’ ever, I quit.” You see, I’m attending the Adult Video News awards in Las Vegas this upcoming weekend, and apparently because it is absolutely taboo and unheard of for people to ever ask for time off at this buttfucking job, they assumed that I was quitting. I realized then that I was working for lobotomized mongoloids that couldn’t comprehend the existence of life outside of a fucking sports store. So I decided to give them a good-bye and fuck you later.

Well I didn’t do shit for New Year’s this year because I happened to be working for the douche whip boss. So today I have decided to make my New Year’s resolution and Goddammit I’m going to stick to it, whatever that resolution may be. I’ve chosen to stay in bed all day today, just reading, watching TV, eating, masturbating to internet porn, playing Playstation, and only leaving my bed for the occasional piss and a poop. I will get out of bed to workout at some point today so I’ll be able to sleep tonight, as I’ve drank so much coffee that I got a nose bleed this morning and I can feel my heart beating in my temples. I’ll probably take a shower too, but there’s no way in hell that I will be leaving this apartment today.

Anyway, on to my ideas for a New Year’s resolution. I can only choose one resolution, but I’ll probably make the resolution sort of vague so it covers several things that I need to change. I’m just going to make a list of them along with an explanation, and then I’ll choose the best or easiest one to follow.

1. Get a job that I like. I’ve had several jobs in my lifetime and I can really only think of two of them that I actually enjoyed. The last enjoyable job that I had was four years ago and it’s time that I find another one. I refuse to dedicate my time to working for fuckheads that don’t even consider me a person, and most people consider that to be a “poor work ethic”. I don’t know, maybe I’ll just retire.

2. Have a steady relationship with a girlfriend. By steady relationship I mostly mean having an attractive girl that is willing to exchange humiliating sex acts for dinner and a movie. She must also have an uncanny control over her gag reflex as I’ve been told several times that my farts smell like sour kraut and garbage, and I’m pretty sure that my ass plays a silent but deadly orchestra every night while I sleep because my bed smells like a Mexican cemetery every morning of the week.

3. Climb a mountain. Climbing a mountain would be awesome. I’m getting back into my outdoorsy self now that I’ve given up on all the bodybuilding bullshit. I’ll be honest though, I’ll probably never do this. I fucking hate the cold and I don’t know of any considerable mountains that are warm weathered from top to bottom.

4. Go to Europe. This is actually a good possibility. I decided a few months ago that I was going to do more traveling, (so I can’t use that as my New Year’s resolution), and Europe would be a great place to start. I’d also like to see Australia and Africa though. But I’m paying for school and an over priced apartment right now, so who knows.

5. Force Britney Spears to wear the school girl outfit from ‘Oops I Did it Again’, duct tape her to a running washing machine, pee on her, and then sell the video for millions of dollars. It’s been all over the news lately that Britney Spears was supposedly going to move to the Cherry Creek neighborhood of Denver. I’m only about a mile away from that area, so I figured I probably had a 95% chance of being Britney Spears’ new boyfriend. So I figured I would be able to cover the first two resolutions by having a new job as an amateur porn star as well as having a steady girlfriend. However, I also heard that the rumor wasn’t true. So I’ll just have to stick with duct taping completely unknown girls to dishwashers, barfing on them, and then posting it on You Tube for free.

6. Capture Big Foot. I don’t believe in the Lochness monster or unicorns, but Big Foot is fucking real. I saw him buying carrots at 2:00 AM in a Super Wal-Mart in Nebraska a few years ago, and I’ve spent those years regretting the fact that I didn’t take the opportunity to capture him and expose him to the world. I’ll tell you that he was wearing sweat pants and a purple tank top that said AT & T and had Carrot Top exclaiming “Dial down the middle!” on it, but those are the only details that I will openly give to the public. I don’t want to give the opportunity of catching Big Foot to anyone else, so I’ll just keep most of the details to myself.

7. Eat shit and die. I’m not down with the whole dying part of that resolution, but that would be a good way to go. People are always telling one another to “eat shit and die”, and I’m just wondering if that expression is based on an actual occurrence or a true event. I’m sure you could eat a butt log and then die from some disease or bacteria in the poop, but I wonder if there’s a way to just eat shit and instantly die. Maybe you could choke on shit and die. Nonetheless, rather than dying of cancer or old age, I think it would be a cool way to be remembered. Whenever someone asked one of my remaining relatives how I passed away, there only answer could be “Well he ate shit and died.”

8. Grow a pair. I will fully admit that I can be a bit of a pussy. I tend to just follow the rules most of the time. By moving back to Denver and going to film school I did sort of man-up a little I suppose. Some people tell me that I do have some balls, but I just don’t feel that way. I need to kick some fucking ass this year.

9. Get a tattoo. Oh fuck that resolution. That’s a fucking lame ass resolution if you ask me. Everyone and there gerbil has a fucking tattoo these days. If you want to be original then don’t get a tattoo. I don’t know why I even took a second to consider that a worthy New Year’s resolution.

10. Have a sex change operation. I’m not gay, but it would be really interesting to spend a year as a woman. I would definitely do it if I knew that I could switch back to being a guy when I got tired of it. I would use the opportunity to show women that they aren’t nearly as socially repressed as several women claim to be. Unfortunately, even though I am not gay, I would have to be a total slut. That has more to do with my beliefs involving gender roles than it does with sexual preference. It’s really fucking hard to approach attractive women, and knowing that I’m a spitting image of Carmen Electra when I put a wig on I know that I would be an extremely attractive woman and my belief system would force me to be an all out whore for nerds.

Okay, I’m tired of typing. My mind and fingers are venturing back towards internet porn right now so I better just pick one. I’m going to choose resolution number 8. It’s the most logical resolution and it would cover almost all of the resolutions on here. So that’s it. I’m going to have a lot of fucking balls in the year 2008. That was easy.

40 hours a day, 24 days a week

Friday, December 14, 2007

I haven’t typed anything on here in a while and this is why. I now have a very easy and decent paying job that requires me to work an absolutely absurd amount of hours. I just finished working another twelve hour shift on a fucking Saturday and I cannot give you a single fucking reason why. I was supposed to work from 1:00 PM to 10:30 PM but ended up leaving at one in the morning. So not only am I unable to have a social life, but I can’t even get off early enough to watch Saturday Night Live. The place closes at 9:30 PM and I will give you one guess as to why me and my fellow workers had to stay until 1:00 AM. Nope, you guessed wrong. There was no fucking reason.

We did our usual thing and then we sat like lumps on your ass for hours until the manager finally decided to unlock the doors and let us out. It’s snowing pretty bad outside and the motherfucker wouldn’t even let us out to warm up our cars. So after waiting and watching our weekend slip away, we all had to hobble through the snow and scrape our windshields before we could drive home. This isn’t the first or even the fifth time that these cock snots have done this to me either. This is business as usual. I always make sure that I keep my schedule completely empty on the days that I work, and I tend to work almost everyday.

Aside from the ridiculous hours, it really is a good job. So in my fear of possibly losing the job I will not reveal where I work. However, if you are someone close to me or were just some random person that asked, I’d probably reply by telling you that I sell exercise equipment at a Sports Authority. And if you were someone that seemed familiar with the city of Denver then I’d tell you that it’s the one on Colorado Boulevard and Alameda. You know, the one that’s right next to the Super Target near Shotgun Willy’s. I would also ask you to stop in sometime and say hi, or you could stop in and buy something from me, or we could just have a friendly conversation to help my workday go by faster, or maybe you could kick me in the dick while singing “Guantanamera” into your cell phone , or you and your friends could give me a saran wrapped Roman shower show in the tennis isle, or you could hop on the Bob Human Punching Bag and fuck start his face, or you could challenge me to a summer-sault power stand competition, or actually the best thing you could do is bring me something to eat. Then I might feel like there would be some sort of purpose to my being there all fucking day, every fucking day. Seriously, there is an enormous lack of common sense when it comes to the scheduling at this fucking place. They really know how to stretch people to the very brink of going nuts and driving a U-Haul full of gas and fertilizer into the building, and just when you reach that level of thinking they tell you that you can go home.

Fuck it anyway, dude. I’m going to Las Vegas to attend the AVN Awards next month and I’m deciding whether I will keep this job or quit. Because right when I get back from Vegas, I start school on the 22nd of January. It’s film school, so I’m hoping that I can somehow miraculously find some sort of film job here in Denver while I’m going to school. 

So if you’re ever in that Sports Authority on the corner of Colorado Blvd. and Alameda then just ask the front desk for Luke. It would be nice to talk to someone that doesn’t work at the store or isn’t some total fucktard that lacks the brain power to understand how a stationary bike works. I’d love to keep typing on here, but I’m really friggin’ tired. I’ve been working all God damn day and I just want to play a little Playstation, look at some internet porn and crank one out on my thigh, take a shit and a shower, and then finally go to bed. Besides, I have to work tomorrow.

The ‘N’ word

Thursday, October 11, 2007

The “N word” was laid to rest once again here in Colorado at Manuel High School the other day. There was also a previous funeral for the evil and dubious “N-word” held by the NAACP in Detroit this summer. My question to these bereaved onlookers of the racial slur is this: Are you such a fucking idiot that you think a mock burial for a word is going to do anything other than make the word even funnier to use in a sentence? Not only that, but the fact that everyone, even the media that reported the funeral, still had to refer to it as the “N-word” clearly shows that there is no sign of the word being dead.

There are few things that will actually go away if you ignore them, but words fall into that category. The word “humbug” was just as bad as the word “bullshit” at one time, but because people stopped saying it as often it’s power and meaning eventually died. So tell Fifty-Cent and all those other hardcore rappers that are boosting the image of black, I mean African-American, society to stop using the damn word in every other sentence and just maybe you’ll accomplish the task of killing the word. Or here’s an even better idea, stop giving so much power to the word. Maybe if whenever someone blurted out the word nigger (I can say nigger now because it really is a dead language) people didn’t instantly get hyper offended, then saying the word would eventually lose all of its purpose. It would be like calling someone a doo-doo face in order to offend them because the word wouldn’t have any power.

Another thing that I didn’t fully understand is why the black casket that was supposed to be containing the word nigger only had a mirror in it. I’m sure there was some super intelligent and well thought out symbolic meaning in it, but I took it as meaning that everyone who looked in the coffin was supposed to see a nigger staring back at them. That right there is really fucking weird and I’d actually be a little offended by it. I’ll just skip making fun of that part because I don’t get it.

You know, I have some shit to do right now so I’m just going to cut this blog short. If you’re offended by a word, then just stop fucking saying it you fucking moron. Don’t make the word even stronger by holding little bullshit funerals and ceremonies because you want it to die, because that just gives people even more reason to say it. You just stop saying it yourself because that’s the best you can do. The word “Troglodyte” used to be an offensive way of calling someone stupid, but because people stopped saying it, most people don’t even know what it means anymore. Stop saying the word “Nigger” and it will eventually lose it’s meaning too.

On a side note, if you should be sharing drinks with your friends in a bar this weekend, I think you should probably dedicate a drink to the memory of the word nigger. Even though it was a very dirty and offensive word, it was still the victim of a very sudden and unexpected death. You should also dedicate a drink to the word “sick” this weekend too. I’ve gotten extremely fucking tired of people using the word “sick” to describe something that’s cool, so I snuck up behind the word and beat it to death with a niggerstick (that’s an old racist word used to describe a nightstick, and they forgot to bury it).

Okay, I’m adding onto this because I just had an argument with my expensive female African-American hair stylist at Super Cuts about this topic. She believed that having a funeral for a word would truly convince people that using the “N-word” was wrong because the word didn’t exist anymore. My response to that was, huh? I’m going back to calling it the “N-word” because despite the fact that the word is dead and buried, I am still not allowed to say it. So that fact alone disproves the success of having a lame ass mock burial for the “N-word” because it still offends people.

I’m going to look past the whole word thing now. Even if you kill the “N-word”, you don’t kill the idea. Racist people will just keep on using the word or they’ll create a new one that’s just as offensive as dropping the N-bomb, because despite the fact that the “N-word” is dead, they’ll still be just as racist as before the word was executed and laid to rest.

Believe it or not, but the “N-word” was actually at one time considered the proper term for African-Americans. I don’t mean that black people were all *iggers at one time, I just mean that’s what everyone, including black people, called the darker complexioned races of people. Then that word was deemed offensive, so the word ‘negro’ was used instead. Then the word ‘negro’ was considered evil, so the term ‘black’ came about. Now the word ‘black’ is inappropriate, so the term African-American must be used or else you are considered to be racist. Despite all of these petty and meaningless changes to words and terms, there are still racist people in the country. How about everybody stops trying to change everything on the surface so it looks and sounds all friendly, and people actually start trying to change the way people think.

I go back to the whole idea of ignoring something until it goes away. Now if you’ve ever worked with little kids, which I have, then you will notice that they all play together and cooperate despite any racial differences, no matter how obvious they are. Then just as soon as an adult puts the idea into a kid’s head that a certain color of skin is bad, then the kid immediately starts acting racist towards that group of people. I’m not sure exactly how to do it, but if we just kept the whole racial thing away from the youngest generations, then it wouldn’t even become an issue with them. The whole idea of racial differences would just die away. However, the problem with that solution is that it would require personal responsibility among adults to not teach racism to kids. And we all know that in this day and age, personal responsibility is a long lost art among American adults.

From the bowels of Hell

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Anyone that is a close friend of mine has more than likely witnessed the phenomena of my farts. I am convinced that my butthole is a gateway to another dimension that is filled with death and torture, or hell in other words. I came to this conclusion because of the moans and squeals of tortured souls as well as the musty and potent scent of evil that emits from my ass. One of my old roommates was convinced that I would be successful in life because I had obviously sold my ass to the devil.

Anyway, my suspicions about the evil that lies within my ass were answered today. I had eaten garlic humus spread on pita bread, mussels over rice with general tso sauce, and a cup of natural yogurt just before I went downtown to workout this afternoon. Granted that what I had for brunch was a pretty fucking wierd combination of foods, I believe that it was the strenuous leg workout that angered my guts into building up so much rage and aggression towards the human ears and olfactory system today.

It all started after I had gone down to GNC at the pavilion to get some meathead food to feed my aching legs after my workout. I picked up an amino acid drink because I have recently stopped with the whole protien shake thing and then I decided I would go down to The Tattered Cover to maybe pick up a book or something. I got onto the RTD to shuttle me from one end of 16th street to the other. (You see here in Denver, 16th Street Mall is the main street in downtown Denver. You are not allowed to drive on it because it is a long business street where you just walk from store to store. The RTD is a free bus in between the sidewalks that just shuttles people up and down the street and it stops at every corner). I got onto the RTD and sat down in the back because I knew that I would be traveling from the South end to the North end of 16th, so I would be on it for a little while.

Denver has a shitload of homeless people in it, and those stinky homeless people love to sit on the RTD and harass people with morals from dusk ’til dawn. Well at the corner of Tremont one of these booze stinking hobos got on and sat down next to me. It was also on the corner of Tremont when I began to feel a horrible bubble of putrid hate begin to stir in my stomach. After stopping and going at two more street corners, this bubble was becoming unbearable. It felt as if it was trying to force itself up into my lungs, which was making it hard for me to breath. I started sipping on my amino acid drink to see if it would quench the demon in my stomach. I was wrong. It only enraged the monster even more. Fear set in. I looked around to see if there was any area of the bus where I could let out a huge shit burst without getting busted but realized I was trapped. I then got the idea that I would try to quietly let it out at the next stop while the driver was announcing the street over the intercom. So he stopped at Curtis street and I began to release this merciless gut fucker. I kept my ass pressed to the seat while I slowly loosened my anal grip on the fart. It instantly made a high pitched and very loud squeaking noise that lowered its tone as it continued its exit from my ass, ultimately ending in a bubbling or sort of clapping sound. The fart couldn’t have lasted longer than two seconds but it felt like hours went by. I looked from side to side while this howling banshee tore out from between my ass cheeks. I looked to my left at the toothless tramp that smelled of Mad Dog 20/20. He stared at me like I had just called his mother a donkey-blowing bitch. I looked at the dozens of people in front of me and they stared back at me like I was a circus freak. I felt like the elephant man when he was being chased and chastised on the subway.

When my asshole finally stopped screaming I thought that I was in the clear and I felt very mentally and physically relieved. Everyone had started to look away and mind their own business again when the smell hit. It hit like a tidal wave of shit that had been personally pushed out by Satan himself. It smelled like the Salvation Army mixed with skunk and a hint of steamed broccoli. The hobo moved away from me and then he actually got off at the next stop. A guy who eats garbage, pisses his pants, collects his own scabs, huffs Bed Bath and Beyond potpourri, and lives under a cardboard lean-to next to a creek thought that this fart was too much for him to handle. The dozens of people in front of me attempted to cram themselves into a six foot space at the front of the bus; leaving me all alone in my own horrible ass gas at the back. It not only filled me with embarrassment, but it also caused my fight or flight survival instincts to kick in. I all but ran from the bus when it arrived at the next stop….