Awww...she thinks she's shopping. Adorable and not at all a FUCKING INCONVENIENCE TO ME.

I'm in wal-mart this morning after staying up all night and then driving to my eventual new home some two plus hours away. I was a bit groggy and I just wanted to get the shit that I needed (mostly Dr. Pepper and toilet paper) and get back to the apartment and take a nap. But I kept getting behind the same, dare I say, cunt of a mother and her idiot daughter. I don't just go throwing the c-word around thoughtlessly. I only use it in extreme cases of pissedoffedness. Today was one of those days.

This stupid lady was letting her daughter walk next to her pushing her own little plastic shopping cart. Cute and all, but they were walking EXTREMELY SLOW and taking up most of the aisles. I got behind them at least three times. I'm a pretty patient person, too, but today I almost lost it. What's the point? Does she drive a little mini car next to her mom when she drives? Maybe eat some plastic food while the adults eat real food? Just push the big cart. I don't care. Just MOVE.

If her mom wants to buy her something fake to prepare her for her future, then maybe she should buy her a little plastic penis that gives her money after she plays with it. That's right. Through my powers of wishing bad shit on people, I'm hoping that her daughter becomes a whore. Not a clean whore, either. Not a discriminate whore. I hope in her later years she has sex with dirty, homeless men with old, musty balls for money, and not much money at that. Mere dollars. Maybe she runs away from home in her teens and a few years later, her father, feeling a little down and possibly drunk decides to pick up a prostitute. Despite the fact that she looks familiar to him he decides to throw caution to the wind and do her anyway. "That'll be $7," she says to him after they're done. "That's really cheap," he says to himself, "and a little odd she didn't take the money up front. Wow. She must really be a dirty whore." Then a cold chill runs over him as he realizes that he may have just had sex with his estranged daughter. No, that couldn't be. She would have recognized him, right? Not with the amount of drugs she was on and the exposure to the elements, you know...being a whore and all. After he gets home, he looks at a picture of his daughter and slowly begins to realize that the super cheap prostitute he just encountered actually was his daughter. He makes love to his wife one last time before hanging himself with his belt from the bathroom door. Facing a life alone and penniless (her husband was the bread winner. She was a homemaker whose sole joy in life was taking her daughter to wal-mart with her fucking plastic shopping cart) she decides that maybe she can hit the dating scene again after she mourns her husband and the fact that her life is ruined. Maybe she can find a nice man to take her away from all this. But what's this strange rash? It's a rare strain of donkey herpes most likely transmitted from her daughter through her husband. She realizes she can't go on anymore and decides to shoot herself. But in another unfortunate series of events, the bullet fails to kill her and only damages the portion of her brain responsible for controlling her bowel. With all the stress she's been under, she develops a nasty case of IBS. She's forced to live out her days in a home, violently and painfully pooping several times a day without warning. Also, she lives to be the oldest woman in history with each day's poopings more violent and painful than the last until she finally passes away from natural causes. On her death bed she wonders what she had done to deserve a life so shitty. "It must have been the shopping cart and that time I annoyed that incredibly handsome man in wal-mart with my daughter's antics," she says to herself.

Goddamn skunks (whoops)

I would like to tell a little story about my drive tonight. It goes a little something like this...

As I was driving tonight, my mind was wandering as it tends to do on the deserted and winding roads in my particular inbred part of Texas. Just as I was almost completely zoned out and in full road hypnosis mode, a skunk wandered out in front of me. I swerved to avoid it and I almost ran into the ditch. "Jesus!" I exclaimed as I regained control of my awesome and sexy Chevy Cobalt (interested, aren't you, ladies?). That got me thinking about Jesus. I'm not a super religious guy, but I do believe in God and Jesus and the basic Christian ideas and principles, yet I make jokes about God and Jesus and the basic Christian ideas and principles. I'm a strange dichotomy of God-fearing man and complete and total douche.

Anyway, I started just thinking about Jesus in general. Jesus Christ. Christmas. Things along those lines. Then it occurred to me that if his name was something like Jesus Cockcrapsworth, how ridiculous it would be to celebrate a holiday called "Cockcrapsworthsmas." Then I felt those strange pains in my stomach. You know the kind. The ones caused by the internal struggle between the forces of what may or may not be comedy and your own morals and somewhat lax religious beliefs. Kinda like the ones I just felt as I typed the word "cock" after Jesus' name.

I drove extra careful after that. I didn't want to get in a wreck and die having that be the last thing I thought about. I didn't really want to meet my maker on those terms. It's like farting in a room mere seconds before a really hot girl walks in. Sure she might still like you, but the odds definitely aren't in your favor.

What's the point of all this? Where's the moral, db? I'll tell you. Don't avoid hitting skunks. Why? 'Cause skunks make you blaspheme. That's why. Next time you see one while driving, run the fucker over. You'll thank me later when you're resting comfortably in Heaven. Also, you'll be doing a service to unsuspecting French cats the world over. (See what I did there? Pepe LePew? I know what you're thinking and you're right. I should win some sort of award.)

Merry Christmas

I love you all. Well, most of you. I hope you all have a great Christmas.

On this glorious Christmas day, I'll even ignore the fact that a good friend of mine failed to introduce me to or even mention the fact that she was friends with a hot science teacher who is near my age here in town. Who knows what could have happened. We could have had chemistry. Get it? 'Cause she's a science teacher? I bet she would have loved my particular brand of humor. We could have talked about sciency things like beakers and Florence flasks and whether or not God exists. Things probably would have been great. *sigh* I guess we'll never know now, will we. Oh well. Maybe next year somebody will think enough of our friendship to maybe introduce me to a hot girl that lives here in town. One can only hope. *sigh*

Mostly kidding.

MERRY CHRISTMAS. I'm going to take a pain pill and see how many times I can watch the Christmas Story before things get blurry and I start to feel sick. Then I hope the effects of the pill carry over through most of my family being here so I can sleep through it. Hope your Christmas is half as festive and enjoyable as mine.

Here's a disturbing fact for you to put things in perspective this holiday season. If you have a shitty Christmas or get bad presents, just think about poor little Judith Barsi. Judith did the voice of Duckie in Land Before Time and the voice of the orphan girl in All Dogs go to Heaven. On July 25, 1988, her dad murdered her and her mother before killing himself. So as you're opening presents that you don't like just be thankful that you're not poor little Judith. Not because her father murdered her, but because she will forever be associated with All Dogs go to Heaven. That movie was fuckin' horrible.

Stay in school. Believe in Jesus. It's his birthday.

New Dream Threesome

The new lineup, after watching a bunch of episodes of scrubs and the first four episodes of the first season of "24," includes Sarah Chalke and Mia Kirshner. (The alternate in the event that one of these two lovely ladies gets sick or becomes fat is Ms. Elisabeth Rohm.) Discuss.

I almost put Amy Lee as my alternate, but I thought about it and realized that Amy Lee deserves my full attention and the brunt of my dongular girth.

Disappointed you didn't make my dream threesome, ladies? Well, you should be. Work on it.

"And Jesus said unto him, 'PLLLLLLLTTTTTT...'"

I'd just like to thank Kenny for sending me this gem. I'll see you in Hell, sir. I'm kidding. Jesus isn't mad. Anybody who manifests himself as a dog's butthole has a sense of humor, right?

Man without a face, you are my hero

Hot women in Santa outfits are quite possibly the sexiest thing in the history of things. I watch this commercial and think, "what do I have to do to get a girl like Heidi Klum? Is it acid? It's acid, isn't it?" What the fuck happened to Seal anyway? Was his mom grating some cheese one day and about 30 minutes into it realized it was actually her infant son? But seriously...good for that guy. It gives a pristine-faced guy like me hope. Hope that one day I might get horribly disfigured and end up with a supermodel. A supermodel with a sexy accent and gigantic boobs I can rest my weary head on after a long day at the being a badass factory.

My heart...it breaks

The Steelers got the shit kicked out of them today. That was pretty bad, but I'll survive. I've seen worse. But then to add insult to injury, I was looking to see if there were any better pictures of my "double eye" tattoo that I want and that's when I found the picture below.


What the fuck? That's the exact thing I wanted. It's the eye from the Tool cd. I didn't want it in that color, but that's the exact thing I was looking for in the first place. I don't know how tattoo etiquette works, but I don't want to have the exact same tattoo as some other douche. I guess there's a way around this. I had an idea of what I wanted, but I don't think I want that anymore. I had a design and an eye model in my head, but those things definitely aren't what I want now.

EDIT: Holy fuck, there are like a thousand of this exact tattoo.