The Mind of Spaz

Sometimes you can be surrounded by things and just tune them out, because they’re a part of your environment. You give them no credence because it’s something you see everyday. But sometimes, just sometimes you suddenly become aware, it snaps into place and you go “holy shit! I never noticed…”.

What I’m trying to say is, WOW! There are so many UGLY people!

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m not exactly super model material.  To put it to you another way, I was at a comedy club once. The comedian on stage told us that one in three people are ugly. Look to your right and left, and if those people are ok looking, then chances are…..

And the people to my right and left were pretty good looking, is what I’m trying to say.

But really, compared to most people, I’m positively glowing.

All around me I see blackened and missing teeth, morbid obesity, poor hygiene, front ass, man boobs, that shit on your lips that gathers in the corner and forms strings when you talk (gross), grease, grime and a general lack of washing.  Yellowed, blood shot eyes, low sloping foreheads, women with mustaches, men with perms.  Overhanging guts, moose knuckles, clothing that hasn’t been in style since 1982 (the same year it was last washed), and halitosis that would knock a fly off the wall at fifty paces.  Slack jaws, dumb looks, and a general sense of disgusting.

And all this even BEFORE I get into Wal*Mart.

And yet, all these ugly people are hand in hand with another equally ugly people with their ugly children in tow.  You’d think natural selection would have already taken care of this, because who wants to get naked and sweaty with an ugly, weird looking smelly disgusting hephalump and suck unwashed smegma?  How does this happen?

‘Nuff Said.

politically incorrect, social commentary alcohol, ugly people

One day while having lunch with my boss, he broached a topic unusual to him but all to familiar to me – poo. After divulging my plans for the weekend, he told me that he would spend his on the can, as he would be consuming that liquid hell they give you to clean out your system before a colonscopy.  I asked when he was booked in for, and he told me he wasn’t.  It seems that after cleaning all the poo from your colon, he felt GREAT for six months following his first colonoscopy.  More energy, better mood, and better sleep were some of the things he experienced. It couldn’t have been the camera they shoved up his ass, because that would put me in a much worse mood for a long time. No, it was the cleansing of the bowels.

Being who I am, I thought I should try it too.  I walked into the pharmacy and asked for some. He looked me straight in the eye and asked if it was for me or a friend.  Ha!  This man knew his business! Of course I, being the person that I am, looked him straight back and said “what the hell do I care, it’s for me!”  The instructions on the bottle said to drink 250 ml per 10 minutes until all four liters were gone, but he said that’s almost impossible. I took that as a challenge.

So, with glass in hand and a twenty pack of TP, we shall now dive into the adventure that is Spaz’s colon cleansing.

1:20 PM – First Glass: Ugh. This stuff tastes like hell in a bottle. Still, it’s better than Mountain Dew.

1:24 PM – First Poo: Man that was quick! Just a normal poo, all one log, nice clean exit.  Looking good so far!

1:30 PM – Second Glass: Mental note, don’t let the dog lick your beard, you sloppy idiot.

1:40 PM – Third Glass: When the hell am I supposed to poo? Umm, why am I shaking?

1:50 PM – 4th Glass: This feels like the calm before the storm….

1:57 PM – Second Poo: If you’re going to ignore the first twinge, be fast.

2:00 PM – 5th Glass: I’d better start pooing soon. Fine, I’ll just update on the poo then!

2:05 PM – I left the bathroom broken hearted. I went to poo but only farted.

2:08 PM – Third Poo: There’s corn in my poo. I haven’t eaten corn since August.

2:11 PM – Fourth Poo: I got some chocolate rain for YOU, Tay Zonday!

2:12 PM – Fifth Poo: Damnit! I had just finished wiping!

2:13 PM – Sixth Poo: Damnit! I had just flushed!

2:17 PM – Seventh and Eighth Poo: I didn’t think anus could be this powerful. Almost cut the porcelain in half

2:22 PM – Ninth Poo: Peein out of my bum! My mum would be so proud!

2:26 PM – Tenth Poo: I almost didn’t make it to the shitter. I’m starting to think this wasn’t a good idea.

2:30 PM – I’ve drank 2L of this stuff already, and it feels like I’ve expelled 10L. Ugh.

2:31 PM – Eleventh Poo: Are you there god? It’s me, Spaz. Could you please tell me which religion is right so I don’t piss you off even further?

2:40 PM – Twelvth Poo: My feces are no longer distiguisable from my urine. Both are completely liquid and yellow in colour.

2:44 PM – Thirteenth Poo: Leaving toilet seat up.  Lifting seat now takes too much time.

2:47 PM – Fourteenth Poo: Experiencing some serious splashback. Will need shower when this is done.

2:54 PM – Fifteenth Poo: No longer any point in flushing

3:00 PM – Sixtheenth Poo: If I was laying face down in the grass, I could be a sprinkler.  Children would be playing in me. Mental image, anyone?

3:07 PM – Seventeenth Poo: If I was to give you a glass of my poo, you might mistake it for a glass of warm apple cider. Happy Thanksgiving!

3:11 PM – 18th Poo: Updating my will.

3:14 PM – 19th Poo: For the love of god, give me a break allready!

3:17 PM – 20th Poo: I think I’m starting to lose control of my fine motor skills.

3:21 PM – 21st Poo:  Thinking of going to get a colonoscopy so this self torture wasn’t wasted

3:25 PM – 22nd Poo: I DARE you to tell the difference between a cup of my poo and warm tap water!

3:29 PM – 23rd Poo: My anus is so sore… why didn’t any of my friends talk me out of this stupidity? WHY!?!?!

I finished the entire bottle and I think I’m done. That was two hours of hell I’d rather not endure again. I’m going to call the sewage plant and let them know what’s coming… right after I shower.
*See Part Two Here

And, if you want to try this for yourself (but in a gentler, less sadistic way) click here to try this stuff:

dumb things I do to myself, poo ass rain, colonoscopy, poo, shit

I live in Brantford, a small town in the middle of Ontario’s green belt. In every way, Brantford is the backwards, sloppy idiot town akin to the United State’s deep south, except we don’t have inbreeding and most of us have all our teeth and don’t own stills in the bush.

The other night I was watching CSI New York. These guys are just amazing! Obviously, New York City is going to have one large municipal budget to buy the best of the best of equipment, and hire the best of the best of forensic scientists for cops. Yes, I know it’s a show, but there is probably some truth reflected in what they show on T.V., with it being a huge money making city.

These guys extract finger prints from every conceivable space, DNA from such obscure items as gum and 2 year old dried up invisible spit stains. They derive evidence from a dropped bird feather and a tiny piece of rubber embedded into a victims scrotum. Enough evidence to not only conclusively prove who the killer is, but to make him confess in a blubbery emotional outburst towards the end of the show.

Oh, and before I go on I’d just like to say Anna Belknap is really, really hot. I don’t know why, but that is just my type of chick!

Anyways, this got me to thinking. What would a CSI investigation be like in my small town of Brantford? I’m sure the forensics budget is low and we already know all the best forensic scientists go to CSI NY and Miami.

With that in mind, I betting a Brantford murder investigation might go like this:

Detective 1: What do we have here?
Detective 2: It’s horrible. It looks like he choked to death.
Detective 1: On what?
Detective 2: (pulls out an item from the victim’s throat) Umm, zig zags and a welfare stub
Detective 1: Hang on, let me go put on some stomping Tom while we investigate.
Detective 2: Huh?
Detective 1: I saw it on CSI. Their forensics guys always figure out really tough things while music is playing in a really quick way.
Detective 2: (rolls eyes) Ok, the victim has no I.D., looks to be in his late 30′s, huge beer gut, hasn’t showered in days, has a mullet, and is wearing swim trunks, flip flops and a stained wife beater. I don’t recognize the face because it’s too swelled from a herpes outbreak.
Detective 1: No I.D., he could be ANYBODY in this town!
Detective 2: Wait, I found keys to an 80′s style Pontiac Firebird.
Detective 1: Earl, start narrowing it down already!
Detective 2: Wait, wait, I think I found something
Detective 1: What is it?
Detective 2: Look, its crumbs from a mostly eaten Tim Horton’s french cruller. Only one person in this town eats those!
Detective 1 & 2 together: CHARLENE!
Detective 1: Looks like we got ourselves a crime of passion. Let’s go talk to Charlene.
Detective 2: She could be anywhere!
Detective 1: I’ll go to the casino, you start checking out the McDonalds. We’re bound to find her.

Boy, I hope I don’t die of criminal causes, and if I do, I hope it’s in New York, so the cast of CSI can find the real killer in less than an hour’s time.

Parody Anna Belknap, CSI, Parody, Small Town

Many of you girls enjoy the show Sex and the City.  Many of you think it’s the most awesome show ever created and you cannot understand why your man hates it.

Tonight, you will understand.

Watch the video below.  This is how a man perceives Sex and the City. Now imagine being forced to watch hours and hours of this without complaint.

Yea.

Now, go out and give your significant others fellatio. They deserve it.

politically incorrect, talking out of my ass how a man sees sex and the city, sex and the city

Queers. Fags. Homosexual. Bum Pirates. Ass blasters. Knob polishers. Chode suckers. Richard Simmons. There are many words for doods who like doing other doods, but the fact of the matter is, I just don’t get it. How can a man like another man, with shit like this out there?

Guys, you’ve thought about it. Come on, admit it. The only way you can know if you’re actually straight is by thinking about playing with a rod that isn’t your own. You’ve ALL thought about it once. If the thought of a knob passing your lips makes you lose your lunch, you’re not gay. If you think “hmm, maybe I should try it” chances are you fall into the queer-o-sexual category.

But hell, who cares what people do in the privacy of their own homes. If you want to go to brown town, go right ahead. Just make sure you wipe the poo off your nose before you go into public, mmmkay?

So I don’t understand why some guys like the cock. What I really don’t understand is the flamboyant gays. You still have a penis. It’s ok for you to like cars and power tools even if you’re getting some up the bum. Why the lisp? Why the light loafers? Why the women’s clothing?

And meterosexuals: You like the poonani but you’ve got more girl in you than Rue Paul on his girliest day of girling out? What the hell is wrong with you!

There is one group of people who I think is gayest of all: The intolerant religious, like Pat Robertson and his ilk of poorly educated whackjobs. It’s one thing to be an asshat like me, it’s another to persecute people for doing things that are just none of your business. Yea yea, you all say that being gay is a choice. I’m sure that if a gay guy could choose to be straight to avoid ignorant persecution he would. So why are Pat Roberston and his ignorant ilk all flaming faggots? Because you are what you cannot drop. They fear themselves more than anything. Chaw on that!

Yea, I don’t understand guys that like penis (other than their own).  Fine, I think it’s gross, you can call me ignorant if you want. But you can also call me a hypocrite, because there is a group of homosexuals that just rock my socks.

‘Nuff Said.

politically incorrect boobs, gay, homosexual, ignorance, Pat Robertson, Richard Simmons