You are not interesting or funny. A week old carcass scooped off the road with a snow shovel, sprinkled with organic garnish and served in a trailer is not a meal. It’s a misdemeanor. I am not opposed to eating meat, either. I will consume just about anything that has the misfortune of being below me on the food chain. I am just opposed to eating something whose time of death exceeds its time of refrigeration. And please stop calling yourself an artist. You are not. You are the annoying, alternative, Wiccan priestess, solstice-worshipping, patchouli-stink girl I sat next to in college who claimed to be an art major because you shit out 13 variations of the same Grateful Dead dancing bears painting in one semester. Real artists label themselves “artists”. Insecure girls who work full-time at Kenny Shoes and volunteer once a month at the community center teaching children art classes call themselves “Nomadic Shamanic Artists”.
Me: I think this sums up the entire Rockies 2011 season.
DJ: I think this sums it up better. You and I are the frog in the scenario.
Me: Can you please stop sending me inter-species rape videos? I find it weird I have to ask that.
DJ: I find it weird I have to answer that question, but the answer is “no”.
The rain falls softly on the metal roof. OJ is currently in jail for a B and E. I inhaled eight tacos and a bowl of green chili with Team Hofkamp during the Broncos game yesterday. Two homeless guys just walked by our office window with four shopping carts full of cans that were covered with assorted tarps and bungee cords yet neither were wearing a rain slicker or a poncho. I get free Brothers BBQ for lunch today. We just learned that one of our freelance designers is a con-artist and wanted for fraud. Pumpkin pie sounds delicious.
A gallery of winners at the International Beard and Mustache Championships. Your madness pleases me, Joachim Ott.
- I enjoy having a penis.
- I am going to be all Top Jimmy on the treadmill tonight.
- There are two advantages to being with a woman who just had a baby. First, the oversized breasts would be fun to smack around. Second, you have a natural milk source around if you need a squirt in your Raisin Bran and do not feeling like driving to the grocery store.
- I wonder if the two-headed baby is doing okay.
Everyday I carpool to work with my friend and coworker JT. It is an event filled with colorful metaphors mixed with mindless drivel about substance abuse, threats, sexual escapades, pornography, sporting events, video games and world events. We also yell out the window at bad drivers like a pair of crazed vigilantes. Every so often, a gem escapes in conversation that is worthy of praise and respect. Yesterday afternoon JT dropped the term chumming the waters to describe masturbation. The phrase’s beauty and elegance are truly something of wonder and henceforth I will be using it until my dying day.