My friend Taite thinks I’m a woman. In her mindset God accidentally stuck a dick on me and then tossed my sweet ass in the man pile. Maybe he was drunk that day? He made this same mistake with Rosie O’Donnell when putting a vagina between her legs. Wait, did I steal that joke? It seems like something I’ve seen on Family Guy. Either way, I’m a bitch. I can get kind of whiny and over think situations when dating. This might be somewhat confusing because I tend to write in the character of a person who doesn’t give a fuck – when in fact I spend most nights teetering on the ledge of a tall building. I don’t operate very well without love. I’d rather write poems than jokes about pussy, but one must be influenced to do such things. I can’t write a love poem about panty pudding.
Or can I?
Oh, panty pudding – how I love the! Allow me to count the ways, yum!
You get the point. This toilet book is something I do between other writing projects. It’s mostly an immaturity release. This reminds me of a funny story and then I’ll get back to what it is I plan on writing. Back in high school I smoked a lot of pot. Mostly on my lunch break with friends. We would all pile into my buddy’s van and drive around getting high for forty-five minutes. We smoked our lunch. Once back in the school parking lot we had our “Wig Out” sessions. This was three or four minutes of us completely wigging out in attempt to get the stoner giggles out of our systems. We figured if we wigged out enough now - once back in class we would appear completely normal and sober. Imagine four kids in a van violently shaking their heads from to left to right and screaming at the top of their lungs. Mind you, this was all happening in the school parking lot.
I’m not making this up.
We would scream and giggle and shake our arms everywhere. I’m not sure if it actually worked because afterwards we’d be laughing our asses off over the wig out session. I think in fact it only made things worse because once back in class I’d be laughing at the memory of my friends wigging out. My buddy Jason was the best at this. That dude could wig out better than Jim Carrey. He would fall down on the van floor and start convulsing for our entertainment. I think he later joined the Army or something and that’s great. If I were at war and about to be killed, I’d want nothing more than one last wig out session.
Put down your guns.
So back to me being this huge pussy. I tend to bitch a lot because mostly I enjoy it. There really is nothing better than a big huge long rant about whatever dickhole person is pissing you off. Like these fuckin’ people who talk on their cell phones while waiting in line at the grocery store or anywhere else for that matter. This is one of my biggest pet peeves. I understand a quick business call, like telling your girlfriend to buy more toilet paper, but a senseless conversation drives me fucking crazy. I don’t want to hear it. No one does and it’s not always women doing it. Every now and then it’s a man talking to his equally douchey best friend about Call of Duty or some shit. I can tell by the Chili Cheese Fritos and case of Red Bull that this dude can’t wait to get back to his apartment where they can sniff each other’s farts and waller around in their own worthlessness. Get a drug habit or something, anything but video games. Put a needle in your arm and your whole life becomes one long video game called “Homeless.”
Your only objective is to find something other than your own clothes to wipe your ass with.
If it’s not these dickhole people on their cell phones while waiting in line, it’s the ones buying waterproof iPhone cases so they can take their cell phone surfing with them. Have you seen this shit? Someone is making waterproof iPhone cases and I wish he or she would have a stroke already. Can you imagine paddling out into the line up only to find everyone on their cell phones? Can human beings possibly be anymore of a worthless social media addicted piece of shit? It’s a good thing I’m no longer able to go surfing or I might actually paddle over next to them and push their heads underwater. Every time I see one of these Instagram pictures of some kid in the line up while surfing it almost breaks my heart. Call me an old fashion close-minded asshole, but it used to be a surfer would relax and admire his surroundings in between sets. Think about life or whether or not that was a 6 foot shark that just bumped your leg. Now kids are playing Angry Birds or updating their Facebook status. If wetsuit companies start making wetsuits with iPhone pockets I’m going to kill myself.
Game over.
Human beings have lost all ability to explore their imaginations.
I’ll admit I’m just as guilty as the next person for constantly fingering with their iPhones, but some things should forever remain cell phone free and the ocean is one of them. I can understand a baseball player using his iPhone during a game because baseball is the most boring shit on the planet, but not surfing.
No.
