Maybe it’s Karma. Maybe I shouldn’t have made fun of those people. Maybe because turning 32 means I’m old and my body wanted to prove it.  Maybe I am human after all.  Whatever the case is, I was sick this weekend.

Sure, it was just a cold and it only lasted for a couple of days.  But I’m almost never sick so it caught me by surprise.

At first I thought it was because I’m allergic to Tech Joes pussy.   His pussy was rubbing all up against me and just wouldn’t leave me alone.  I told him to get his pussy away from me but it just kept rubbing and rubbing and making the WEIRDEST noises.

I’m allergic to cats. Also, I hate them. They are useless.  No wonder I enjoy Chinese food so much.

It became clear the next morning when I woke up that it wasn’t Joes Pussy, because there is no pussy in my house. Unfortunately.  Something was leaking from my nose, and my throat hurt. Which is weird, because I usually am not able to injure myself on the inside from my own stupidity. I don’t remember hitting myself in the throat.

I logged onto the computer, and searched for “help, my nose is leaking”.  I found this:

AHA! I need to go to a mechanic!  So off I went. He laughed at me. So I asked him where the human mechanics were. That’s how I ended up at the drug store.

By this time my nose had leaked all over my shirt and pants. It looked like a frigging ghostbuster or something.  Everyone was staring at me while I walked up to the pharmiscist.  I told her that my nose was leaking, how did I get it to stop?

Long story short, I ended up with something called “Kleenex” and something else called “Nyquil”.  And now I’m better.

Thank you all for your concern.

Parody, dumb things I do to myself i'm retarded, leaking, sick

I don’t usually post strictly the work of others, but I felt this HAD to be shared. Read all the way to the end, wouldjas.

good things awesome cartoon, OH YEA!

I hate this time of the year.  I’ve got a case of insomina, my family is gone, and my boss and his boss are off on vacation leaving me with 8 days of shit to do and only 3 1/2 days to do it in.  Also, a friend is trying to kill herself I think.

Go fuck yourself, Satan Clause.

In the meantime, enjoy this shitty poster. I’m sorry for not being wittier.

rant bah fucking humbug

Yesterday I was at Canadian Tire.  For those of you who are American, Canadian Tire does sell tires, but almost nobody buys tires there.  The do-it-yourselfer in your can buy car parts at the Tire, but do NOT take your car in there.  Unless you want some 18 year old high school drop out to screw up your car for $90 an hour.

I can’t remember what I went there for. I believe it was furnace filters, but I can’t remember.  I did NOT come home with furnace filters.

Does everybody remember when that stupid old turd destroyed me and my trucks back?  Well, some stupid old turd destroyed my back and my truck. The truck was repaired and it cost his insurance company $3500 and I hope it took him off the road. My back? Not so lucky.

Sure, I spent a week on some wonderful muscle relaxants that made me feel like I was some sort of drunk and/or high.  Yes, my back is better but it’s not %100 better, which really puts a damper into my new found morning activity.

No, it’s not tantric masturbation. Who has time for that?  It was jogging. I started jogging in the morning.  My doctor, however, put the fear of god in me when he told me “bip boop buppity bip bup dippity bip boop”, which I later found out is Hindi for “If you start losing control of your bladder or bowel or feel tingling in your legs come back and see me faster than the mighty Vishnu can swing her trunk.”

Know what that means, boys and gals?  That means he suspected possible spinal cord injury.  Yea. Fun shit.  And I so do enjoy being able to control my various sphincters.  So the last thing I’m going to do is screw that up by pounding on my back by jogging and completely destroying it.

Back to Canadian tire.  Again, for you Americans, there’s pretty much nothing you can’t get at Canadian tire, including aging Filipino hookers (although the hookers aren’t official Canadian Tire products, they just kinda hang out in front).  I passed by the exercise section and noticed something called an elliptical machine.

The ads touted this thing as mimicing jogging, but your foot never leaves contact with the pedals so it’s completly low and non impact. Perfect for people with joint or BACK PROBLEMS.

I have back problems!  I have a lot of problems. That’s just an aside.

It just so happened last years model, regular $899, was going for $399.  And I thought to myself, I shall have this machine.

Here is where my desicion making processes really broke down.  The box it comes in is about 5 feet long, 4 feet wide, three feet deep, and it weighs in at about 150 lbs and is completely square.  In other words, it’s mooooooooog! Instead of getting help, I decide to lift this thing into the cart myself.  Lifting it, yes, no problem, 150lbs is only a slight problem to me.  Here that moooooog? I COULD manhandle you if wanted to. Which I don’t, you sick perv.  The thing is, as soon as I got the thing on the edge of the cart, the cart was on wheels and started MOVING.  I was chasing the stupid thing around the store like a dumbass retard.

I’m sure there’s some Canadian Tire security employees laughing their asses off while playing and replaying my stupid retardation.

And that, my friends, is why you shouldn’t do things by yourself. At least, I shouldn’t.

dumb things I do to myself exersice, I poop myself, i'm retarded, mooog

Have you ever had your personal space invaded?  Has a complete stranger ever been so dumb as to not understand the whole concept of personal space and it just makes your skin crawl?  I’m not talking just about a close talker or someone who stands too close to you as in shoulder to shoulder.

It’s much worse than that.

If she had been good looking and/or good smelling, it would have been different.  As it were, we were in Price Chopper, so you know the clientele wasn’t the upper crust of society.

I had the dubious honor of helping my friend Tech Joe pick up a giant T.V. yesterday.  On the way back, potatoes was one of the things his wife needed him to bring home.  As an aside, she should really start to make lists, so one phone call would do instead of the 103 he received from her in that 3 hour period.

Sometimes I’m glad I’m not married.  Moving on.

We were waiting in the checkout line.  The person ahead of Tech Joe was having trouble with his debit card so the line wasn’t moving.  The lady behind me, if you can call it a lady – IT is the more appropriate word – decides to step RIGHT in front of me to start loading her stuff on the conveyor.

That’s right.  We were practically doing the standing spoon right there at the checkout line.  My crotch was right at her fat, saggy ass. And she didn’t care.

I coughed. Nothing.

I ahemed.  Nothing.

I shuffled a bit. Nothing.

I got a wiff of her unwashed fold cheese filled body. I retched a little. Still nothing.

So I did the only thing that came to my mind. I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs:

PELVIC! THRUST!

And hip checked her right over the casheir.

And that’s how I learned that I am a super hero. I call myself.

PELVIC THRUST MAN!

I’m still working on a costume.

UPDATE:

I have found some enemies that I just cannot defeat.  SNL’s the Ambiguously Gay Duo.

There are some things that a man just can’t do.

‘Nuff said.

social commentary, talking out of my ass idiots, pelvic thrust man, too close