Buy The Cow

Have we not reach a point is our developement as a society that we can now safely admit that ventriloquists are not anything resembling funny??!!!!  I mean let’s be honest it is a dude who probably didn’t have any friends as a kid and now spends his days with his fist up the ass of a wooden doll.  If I wanted to watch someone stick something up someone’s ass it would not be a middle aged loser and it would sure as shit not be a wooden doll!!!  There are plenty of internet masterpieces dedicated to sticking things in asses.  

Do you really think we don’t know it is you talking????  And  why is he allowed to say degrading, defamitory and digusting things just because he is pretending it is the fucking dummy talking!!!   Does that mean I can walk through a scrapbooking party saying “hey nice tits” as long as i have my hand up someone’s ass?  If so I am going to attend more scrapbooking parties!!!

PSA for all aspiring v-donkeys, we can see your lips moving, just stop.  Watch my lips move…You are still a loser even if you have a whole bunch of wooden friends!!!

What the fuck!!!
Just how long exactly does Auntie Flow hang around. This is bullshit! I am SURE she was just here last week. I am quite sure that there is a direct correlation between blueballs and Aunt Flow’s travel plans. All i can say is i am kicking that bloody bitch to the curb tonight!

It is Thursday night and i am exhausted… I have worked all day to bring home the bacon. I walked in the door at 6:00 in a happy mood, and why not cause my child runs to the door to greet me with excitement to tell me ”i did a puzzle today daddy!” My dinner is hot and ready to eat.  After dinner, i take my son up and get him ready for bed. Give him his bath, and read him no lees than 3 books. He is happy and ready for bed. It is now 8:30pm Everything is sweet. I walk down the stairs with squinted eye burning to go to sleep. I pour a drink, wine or nice cold rum and coke…. I am ready to relax and catch some warm time on the couch with my lovely wife. No more than a few minutes in the couch she says it. No she assumes it… She even has the peppermint foot cream ready. “Will you rub my feet, i am exhausted” Now, under most circumstances… this is fantastic. I would not be bothered in the slightest. BUT, let us change this just a little bit. Lets back up a few minutes and say i want a BJ… cause i am exhausted!!! What if i put some cinnamon scented lube in my pocket and a knut rag in the other… Minutes after we sit down i pull them out and want my shaft worked… this is not ok is it?? Especially since i assumed it! Well let me put it out there… Guys feet are their cocks… When we are exhausted, we don’t need a foot rub we need a cock rub. Deal with it!  

Scarlett Johansson has a fantastic rack….Just thought you should know.

I can’t seem to recall at which point I started to dread waking up because I knew it meant sustaining a miriade of little aches and pains for the first 20 mintues of the day.  It kind of sneaks up on you like the ice and kool aid based vodka drinks we use to guzzle in college.  All of a sudden you get up one day and there they are, sore back, achy knees…..oh!   gotta piss………………..ah that’s better.  Do you remember those drinks?  tasted like straight sugar until you stand up and get greeted with a barrage of laughter as you stumble to the bathroom.

I am of the belief that the only reason we are not all alcoholics and sex addicts is because it was to hard to hide porn and too tough to aquire booze when we were fourteen.  It is still tough to get booze but can you imagine when the generation that grew up knowing about 2 girls 1 cup by the time they were 12 is running the world!!!  Bill Clinton will look like an alter boy compared the deranged perveted little bastard that will inhabit the white house at that point!!!  Fuck me!

“You don’t help me put the laundry away!”  This is the exact quote my wife said to me last night as my head was about to hit the pillow.  Not quite the pillow talk I had always dreamed about when I was masturbating in the shower as a kid in highschool.  As I remember it, I had always envisioned my wife telling me how big and tasty my wiener looked. 

That was then, and this is now.  We talk about how I need to put the laundry away before she gets home from work.  And, when am I going to finish painting the kids room.  Did the Sistine Chapel get painted over the course of a couple weekends?  Does Don Corleone put laundry away? Hell no. That’s what his wife was for.  He needed to save his energy to murder his enemies.  In a similar way, not the murdering part, I too have to save my energy…for sex and then eating. Not necessarily in that order, but you get the point.  Oh how I miss those college days of never putting my laundry away.  Of course, I never had to, my clothing was never washed. I didn’t have a wife back then.  But I always had underwear.  Even if they did smell like a rhino’s apple sack after a journey across a swamp in Georgia.  (By the way, I know the rhino is not native to this land.)