Greetings, dumb asses! I can't believe it's been five months since I posted anything on here, yet today, here I am.. on a dial up computer, no less. The mood to post struck me for two reasons. Number one, my ex-wife has asked me to post for awhile; I always enjoy reading hers, which you can find at http://www.kissandtellall.blogspot.com/. Another was to answer a reader named June Cleaver, who apparently is concerned about my drinking habits in the face of my kidney transplant. And June, you're right; it is probably not a good health choice, but I've really ceased to give a shit. Something's gonna kill me sooner or later, and with my family track record, it's probably gonna be sooner. But thanks for caring!
On an up note, I think I've found my life's calling. Waiting tables. I am fucking Joe Montana, I am fucking Evel Knievel, I am fucking Elvis when it comes to waiting tables. My customers love my ass. I get their names, I get into their conversations, I find things in common and forget it, baby. They can't wait to tip me. Get out the traveler's checks, Maude, this guy is worth more than the eight bucks I got in my wallet. Some eye contact, a nice comment about a woman's shoes, Hey, how 'bout those Cubbies? and forget it. There is nothing finer than to leave work with cash in pocket.. and piss it away at the Cedar Room seven minutes later! Ooh Rah!
Being a guy, I like swapping sex stories as much as the next guy. Now, this didn't happened to me, so I'll avoid names, but damn..
A bartender buddy of mine who is a real man whore told me about this girl he met while working. Now, he's a bartender, she's a drunk chick.. you figger it out. Turns out this girl is a real pig. I know that's not politically correct, so before I hear a peep, Michi, shut the fuck up. I mean, fucking, sucking, ass eating, brown toungin'.. she did it all. And for a finale, my buddy went ass spelunking. You know, back forty plowing. Get it? Butt honing. He put it in her ass.
Ok, zip bam boom, he does his bidness, it's late or early, she's into her tramp suit and out the door.
Cut to several hours later.
She knocks on his door. Groggily, he opens it and squints to see who it is.
I'm back! she says cheerfully.
Why? he asks.
We didn't get the chance to cuddle she explains.
Now, I'm sure he couldn't have been more surprised if he opened the door and had The Rock kick him in the balls. So his reaction seems quite natural to me.
He burst out laughing. Great gales of laughter, like the first time you saw a Kinison video. And then he explains You don't cuddle after buttsex!
He probably should reconsider that policy. After he shut the door in her face, she keyed his truck. Me, I think the damage was worth the story and punchline.
And things are good. My meds and rent are paid for another month, the Packers are 4-0, and I've got half a tank of gas and $29 in my pocket. I'm sure right now at BevMo, there's a bottle of Tuaca with my name on it.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)