Sounds like a really cool underground rave.

Whoops I confused raves and STDs again.

bvllets – Sometimes, I masturbate to Tron
stparkz – What?!?
bvllets – Whoops wrong window

You probably thought homeless people were going through the garbage for political reasons. Unfortunately i’m sure that they were officialy playing Garbage Jenga. Middle or bottom items moved to the top repeatedly = win. Repeat as necessary. Let’s explore the game.

Garbage Jenga: You take a can (5¢ dep) from the bottom, and you put it in your pock. Then you take a dead rat from the middle, and you put it on top. You reach for and unwrap a dirty tampon from some old wax paper french fry cover and you drop it on top. You take your dignity from the top, and you look for another 5¢ can at the bottom. You can’t deny the drive of someone looking through garbage. Especially when it’s for big redemption money.

Unfortunately the winners money doesn’t go towards toothpaste or a DeVry trade school or even self banana research. We don’t know with homeless people. I’m sure it’s spent on drugs or a leg, boot, bootleg Chinese made Obama winter cap.

There are no losers when you think about it. We all throw shit out for others to prosper on. Fortunately for them, shit gets thrown out in a certain place. Usually some Gap store in the maill.

If this ever becomes an ad for the Gap, they better pay me.

Garbage Jenga in a nutshell.

Meals on Wheels is probably much more legit than me walking to get some food and then again walking it over to your crippled bedridden ass. I knew Meals on Shoes wasn’t a good idea.

Meals on Heels is a kinder name, although not much more efficient. At all. Meals Not Delivered is always an option. Easier for me at least.

It was a nice try, but I’m not really good for anything.

I suppose going into a gay bar is less embarassing than having to leave one in a wheelchair.

And that’s all I know about the “In’s and Out’s” of gay bars.

Either give me the Eagle Spreadsheet or take off your clothes, lay down on the floor and spread your legs.

Just a regular office question I think. My office is pretty much just me talking to myself so I can’t say how well it works.

Are we out of white out again? Give it to me and I’ll fill it up. Er, I mean I’ll go get some more.

I’ll believe that they’re really starving artists when they cancel the free continental breakfasts at the Mariott.

Hotel hippies fuck off.

My dick is like the Hindenberg. It’s a big deal, totally incredibly sweet at the time, then it blows up in front of you and burnsssssssss.

More to follow.

Street Fighter is one of those things that no one would play if it wasn’t a video game.

I drank a ton last night while watching football so I got to play one of my favorite morning games, Dixie shots. Dixie shots is a game where you drink as many dixie cups of cold water as you can before you take a shower. By now you might be saying to yourself, where’s the game?

The game is trying not to puke in the shower. What you need to keep in mind is that drinking cold water then going into a hot shower when you’re hungover is very hard to do. Just make sure you’re really hungover and really thirsty in the morning.

I made it to 12 today but i’m sure that was my limit. That was definately pushing it.

I can tell why gay men are so attracted to Man a tease.

Underwater mammalian curiousity is intriguing even to straight man like myself.

Now that Bettie Page is dead, I’m gonna have to get some new porn because I certainly am not a necrophile.

I found that out the hard way. I’m just not into jumping someones bones.

Friend – I am eating lamb broadbean soup with squash and banana.

Me – Am I to assume there is no toy in a hipster happy meal?

Me – You know, that girl over there kinda looks like Gillian Anderson.

Friend – Who?

Me – That hot chick from the X-Files.

Friend – Oh, Scully. She was hot.

Me – I thought that was Mulder?

Friend – Nope, she was definitely Scully.

Me – Damn. I wonder times I’ve told people I wanted to fuck Mulder.

I love songs about tomorrow. They give me a reason to believe in tomorrow, for tomorrow. But of all the songs I’ve heard tomorrow, my favorite song about tomorrow is “I’ve already heard about what happens tomorrow; tomorrow”. I believe that song was written by the Day After Todays.

Prolly some emo band I have no idea.

I’ve always wanted to say to someone “Don’t blow smoke up my ass”, but the more I think about it, it doesn’t need to be said.

I mean, I can’t even get baby carrots in there, let alone smoke.

They all say never look a gift horse in the mouth.

I always say never lick a gift horse in the genitals.

Frame of mind I guess.

I’ve been known to dream things up and imagine some crap that totally isn’t possible. I’m having a hard time with an imaginary crap thought lately. Maybe you can listen to my dilemma.

What I really can’t imagine is a bongo player getting mad by getting let go from a band. I mean, how can that even happen? Can a bongo player actually just get mad for getting fired at a band meeting and be like “Dude, how can you do that to me? I made this band dude. Good luck finding another bongoer that meets this bands musical shortcomings. I’ve been bongoing with you since you got bored with your own music and hired me. I’m irreplaceable dude. Fuck you guys. I’m the sweetest bongoer ever. You can quote me on that.”

I can totally see this happening in my head, but it’s totally not something that would ever happen. In real life the band probably would only fire the bongo guy cause they got another weed connection. Either that or they genuinely didn’t like his bongoing. The band could have been bong-going in the wrong direction. If they were a really classical band maybe they didn’t like how he wrote his bongo sheet music and they couldn’t follow it.

If any of you are in a band and you want to kick out your bongo player, please let me know. I think I can help.

p.s. If you are the sweetest bongoer ever, please leave a comment. And also tell me the name of your band.

I imagine it’s hard to work at Starbucks just due to actually having to wake up to smell the coffee.

Is one of the many things I’ve read on a shampoo bottle while taking a poop.