Around three years ago I bore witness to a cut rate circus operated by a clan of Eastern European gypsies. How do I know they were gypsies? Well, when I went to the concession stand, also known as the rickety ass table they set up next to the men's toilet, and bought some popcorn, which was all the 'concession' they had, I asked for some napkins. She shook her head and seemed irritated and confused, as if cleaning your face was a foreign and idiotic concept. Face for looking at, not for cleaning. You stupid. Bah. Her skin was being held together by ancient curses and grease.
The owner of the arena in which this eye rape took place had their own concession stand operating. I asked them for some napkins. The napkins were handed to me by a gruff old woman and she said 'you ain't going to get no napkins from some goddamn gypsy.' Mystery solved, thanks for the Scooby-Doo moment. I had no idea this was a well known fact, gypsies don't have napkins. I have no idea if the napkin hag was right and they were gypsies, I never met a fucking gypsy and wouldn't know if I had. I'll just have to take the old slags word for it. Like she knew shit.
As for them being Eastern European, who the fuck knows. Who the fuck even cares, it sounds good.
To put it short this circus was one of the greatest disasters I have ever witnessed. It was a tragic failure in every respect and I was absolutely delighted with every moment. Anyone can see a great performance and appreciate it. That shit is easy. Cirque du Soleil, big fucking ball draining super spectacular wow. Anyone can love that good shit, but to appreciate something completely awful and perplexing takes a special kind of person. Me. I'm special.
I'm totally fucking special.
There were two ringmasters. One was a burly older woman with bleach blond hair who looked like she could hammer throw a bowling ball through the moon. She was the only member of the crew who had only one job. If you were in that circus, and you weren't performing at that moment, then you were assembling stage pieces or selling cheaply made souvenirs to the tens of people in the stands. You heard me motherfucker, fuckin' tens. There weren't even all kinds of tens. It was barely two tens, at the beginning. In an arena built for about four thousand people there were all of twenty six of us. I fucking counted.
She kept telling us that she couldn't hear us and urged us to cheer louder. I wanted to scream 'we are only twenty six people fuckface, we couldn't drown out the sound of an old lady's television,' but that is too long to scream. So I clapped louder and that just sounded sarcastic. Other people in the stands looked at me as if to say 'hey dick cream, don't encourage them'.
The whole show had a weird vibe, like it could go from circus to robbery to hostage situation any second.
I was the only one there enjoying myself. My son got bored after thirty seconds, my wife had enough even sooner. I was mesmerized. I was also afraid to fart, it would have echoed in that empty arena like I had thrown dynamite into the Grand Canyon.
The other ringmaster was a slick young gentleman in a poorly tailored suit and poorly cut hair. Ringmaster was not his only job there. Apart from introducing the acts, he was also a performer known as Ninja Lee. The Ninja Lee costume consisted of him in the same exact clothes, except now as Ninja Lee, he wore a Mexican wrestlers mask. Ninja Lee was no luchadore. Ninja Lee didn't even do any ninja shit. Ninja Lee was part of the snake act. You heard me motherfucker, the fuckin' snake act. He carried snakes around in a circle as the other Ringmaster with questionable ladyparts said...
"Behold, the Burmese Python, from BURMAAAAA!!!!"
"Behold, the Colombian Boa Constrictor from COLOMBIAAAAAA!!!" She really drew out the name of the country like we would be impressed that something came from somewhere else. Holy fucking candy coated shit, them there snakes is from another place!!!! I thought everything I ever seen originated here. I thought I lived in the birth canal of the universe.
There was a third snake from another country but I was laughing too hard and in shock from all of it to remember. She could have said the French Poodle from FRANCE or the German Shepherd from GERMANY for all I know. I was too entranced by watching a Mexican wrestler in a shitty suit carry a snake in a circle and that was fucking it.
She named three snakes, he carried them around, end o'story. Three minutes tops. I had to keep telling my brain 'yes, this is happening man, it is really happening.' There wasn't even anybody on the other side of the circle, but he was fucking walking his fake ninja ass over there to show a snake to some ghosts.
Scooby-Doo motherfucker.
There was a dog act which consisted of two dogs jumping over a bar at the urging of a swarthy sequined fellow who looked like he escaped from a disco prison of some kind. The dog training asshole also had another act where he collapsed on his fat back and spun a large cylinder around on his hairy feet. He also balanced a child on his feet. He had mad feet tricks son. He also balanced a chair on his foot and then cup of water on the chair, and you know what happens next. Fuck yeah man. He fucking drank that shit. I have clapped at a grown man for drinking a glass of water.
It was like your uncle decided fuck it all to hell he was going to have a circus goddammit, but he didn't have the money or the talent or the effort, so he just made up one in his backyard with his family, his neighbors pets and some random shit he had lying around.
One of my favorite things was you could get your picture taken with Spongebob. The Spongebob costume they had was a magnificent tragedy. It was a worked over cardboard box covered with carpet samples stripped from the floor of an abandoned building. A lot of the details were off. I don't think they had ever watched the show before.
I imagine the construction sequence went like this, 'Spongebob yellow on top, brown on bottom, done.' It was dirty looking even from a distance, but we didn't get too close for a better inspection because to take a picture with Spongebob you had to pay five dollars.
I should clarify, you had to pay five dollars to take a picture with your own camera. I couldn't even imagine how they could enforce such a rule. What if I had taken a picture accidentally from my seat?
We only stayed for the first half of the circus because that is all my wife and son were willing to endure. The highlight of the first half was....oh for fucks sake I couldn't believe this was real....it was The Amazing Dennis. Dennis. That is your stage name. The Amazing Dennis. What, The Magnificent Steve was taken or some shit. The back of his jumpsuit had DENNIS written in silver glitter, you know like you put glue on something and dump glitter on it and holy shit that's it. The costume department for this debacle was totally on the ball.
Anyway, The Amazing Dennis was going to ride his motorcycle in the giant metal ball, typical circus fare. I thought my son would think that was at least better than watching nothing. So Dennis rides his beat up ass bike gingerly down the path to the ball. He goes in the ball. He rides around the bottom once and comes out. He calls his crew/family members over to discuss the construction of the ball. They point up a lot and argue then shrug their shoulders as if to say fuck it. From the looks of things, the top half of the metal sphere is not of sound construction. A complete fucking shock. He goes back into the ball and rides around in a sad little circle at the bottom about ten times and that is it.
Done.
Now at this point I should mention that my laugh is fucking loud. Loud and fucking annoying. When you hear me laugh you instantly think, wow, what a loud mouthed fucking prick. As I watched The Amazing Dennis ride amazingly around in an amazingly tiny circle like a complete dizzy dickpole I lost it. Great peals of prick laughter resounded off the walls. Then he rode out and took off his helmet, because you totally need a helmet when you are doing dangerous small circle shit, and I discovered that The Amazing Dennis was none other than Ninja Lee the Ringmaster.
I laughed like I was going to die. It was so fucking awesome, and it's not like they didn't know who was laughing, you could have heard a gnat's queef in there, which made me want to give up and laugh even harder. We could have fit this circus in your goddamn living room. I had to hand it to The Amazing Ninja Dennis Lee though, the dude was a true renaissance man. He did a lot of things like complete shit.
I was impressed by the fact that they were unapologetic about the whole fiasco. They knew they were shit, they didn't harbor any misconceptions about the nature of their show. It was a fucking abortion and they knew it and didn't give a fuck what you thought. That alone deserves a massive measure of respect and applause.
After The Amazing Dennis my wife had enough. My son was miserable. Half of the crowd left at intermission. The crowd, nice, the fucking massive mob of thirteen of us left. No one made eye contact, everyone was ashamed and embarrassed by the whole ordeal.
Every year at this time I look in the paper and for flyers on telephone poles to see if they are coming back. I have to know what other acts they had. It eats at my soul.
Even the coloring book we picked up on the way out for my son was bad. It was photocopies of poorly drawn pictures of various circus acts, lion tamers and trapeze artists and elephants, none of which had appeared at the circus we just watched. It was like they were rubbing it in your face. 'I bet your stupid ass thought you were going to see actual circus act at fucking circus instead of feet tricks and snakes and grown man doing donuts in metal ball. Now your child can color pictures of real circus and fucking cry.'
Hellwagon.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
THE POETRY OF PUSSY FARTS AND PINWHEELS
I asked my wife last night 'if a blind person says that all black people look alike, would that be considered racist.' She mumbled 'yes, you stupid asshole' or something along those lines. Although technically, to a blind person, everyone looks alike, looks a-like nothing. Hot damn, the extremely rare and insanely rude blind dude burn. So, anyway, maybe since everyone looks alike to blind people then by the transitive property all blind people are totally racist against everyone.
Yes. Indeed. I too think that might be the stupidest thing I have ever written.
I can't help it, I think of these things and just cannot let them go. I don't mean anything by them. I'm not sure about everyone else, but I have absolutely no control over what I think about. These things just happen to me. I would never intentionally insult someone based on a disability, so if you are blind, you are fucking blind then, so fucking what ya pile of dick cream.
If you are hypersensitive about it and can't take a joke then you are just a overly self-conscious dick pimple like almost everyone else in the world and you just happen to be blind as well and need something to whine about to get attention because you are completely unoriginal.
I imagine being blind has its benefits. In my opinion, the main one would be not having to look at people. Granted, there are beautiful people in this world who everyone wants to look at, but that is just a small percentage. The larger group of people is the larger group of people. Most people are big and plain or just plain ugly looking, and some are so big and so frightful to look upon that you wonder how you and that lumbering behemoth can be categorized as the same species.
Blind people get to decide whose face they want to touch to find out what they look like instead of having to be subjected to the eye rape of looking at some ghastly train wreck of a face without even asking for it. It fucking blows that you have no choice in the matter.
You just turn your head to look into the car next to you and holy fucking ugly shitfire, who let that ungodly monstrosity out of the zoo filled with animals that were raped by unwashed people with genetic defects. For the love of Christ, how in the hell do you get acne on your teeth? If you are reading this and you are ugly, who fucking cares.
Seriously, if you let the opinion of other people define who you are and what you think about yourself then whether you are ugly or beautiful or blind to all of it you most certainly are a half eaten piece of worm shit and a total fucking failure. You are not what I think of you, but I am free to have my opinions.
That being said, I would rather be a totally sexy blind man than be able to see how fucking ugly I was.
I do wonder how blind people know when they are done wiping their ass. It can't be by sniff test. No matter how clean said asshole is, if something touches asshole it's going to smell like asshole. I guess after a lifetime of doing it without seeing you just somehow know. Like a medium whose crystal ball has a giant crack in it. A medium asshole.
I assume it is well documented somewhere that I could give a lazy fuck to look up that if you lose one sense all your other senses supposedly heighten their capabilities. The ability to correctly diagnose a clean asshole with no looksies may be one of those powers.
I have been using the word asshole a lot lately. I should look into that. Ha ha ha ha go fuck yourself me.
I don't know though. Many times you think you are done and you take another wipe and lo and behold, more smears of poo, you keep going and then jackpot, smears of blood, you keep going and hot damn you tore out some hair and found a nickel and some legos. Double super secret bonus jackpot points because now you can finish your turd fort. If you find nickels in your poop I would hope the slot on your piggy bank is in the rear.
I imagine I would have heard by now if all blind people smelled like poop because they can't wipe properly. That kind of sweeping generalization would not have gone unnoticed by a fuckhead like myself. So, odds are whatever system is in place is working perfectly.
On another subject, has anyone ever velcroed their ass cheeks or twat lips together? I think that would be most awesome. Oh, the hijinks that would ensue when you sat down for crap time or blasted a moist and mighty queef. 'Who tore a phone book in half then unleashed that queef in here? I'm looking at you Phyllis.' Unleash the Queef. Sounds like a line from a monster movie. I would seek immediate medical attention if you can muster enough force with a queef to decimate the snug bonds of a velcro vagina. Either see a doctor or buy a pinwheel and make that fucker spin.
Well, I can safely say that is the first time I ever suggested that another human being blow a queef at a pinwheel. You can even scream 'FIRE IN THE HOLE' if you like.
I can also safely say it won't be the last. If I was blind but by some miracle of science they could restore my sight and they asked me what is the first thing I would want to see. I would say a thousand women lying spread eagle on a flowery hillside littered with pinwheels and willow trees. As my eyes slowly opened like a newborn babe, they would unleash the queef. The funky breeze would blow gently through the spinning pinwheels as I would softly weep. It would sound majestic, like an angel with diarrhea.
Or my kids, would totally love to look at my kids.
I was going to look up on the interwebs about how can blind people tell when they are done cleaning their shitholes, but I am currently at work. Not a googly search I want to have to explain later. I have enough of a reputation for being fucked in the head for telling people at work that I think faucets looks like dicks. Which they do.
Touch the balls and it pours out, oh yeah, wash your hands in my glorious torrent. Splash my discharge all over your dirty face you slut. Oh gross, you are going to brush your teeth with that. Yikes. You have been looking at them your whole life and never noticed, now you are going to think about touching a dick and balls every time you wash your hands. Gay.
Even though deaf people can see, I bet it is a whole lot easier to sneak up on a deaf dude than a blind dude. It's a lot harder to be completely silent than to hide behind a mailbox with a bat. People who can see get robbed and beat up and fucked in back alleys all the time. Nice double entendre if I do say so, fucked in the back alley. Sweet wordsmithery. Anywho, you don't see many news stories about blind people getting worked over and robbed and cornholed.
It is probably because they are a small percentage of the population, therefore there just aren't as many of them to steal from. I doubt it is because they are really super good at detecting danger. I really don't have a clue, about most things really. I suppose there is very little merit in spending ones time thinking about being blind, faucet dicks and queefy breezes.
What's the point? There is none you shit, there is no point to anything really, we are all just finding different ways to pass the time until we fucking die. I prefer to spend mine contemplating inane bullshit that makes me laugh. If you want to try to uncover the mysteries of the universe, go right ahead you pompous dickpipe, see how far you get. I was already bored with the subject matter after writing that sentence.
Hellwagon.
Yes. Indeed. I too think that might be the stupidest thing I have ever written.
I can't help it, I think of these things and just cannot let them go. I don't mean anything by them. I'm not sure about everyone else, but I have absolutely no control over what I think about. These things just happen to me. I would never intentionally insult someone based on a disability, so if you are blind, you are fucking blind then, so fucking what ya pile of dick cream.
If you are hypersensitive about it and can't take a joke then you are just a overly self-conscious dick pimple like almost everyone else in the world and you just happen to be blind as well and need something to whine about to get attention because you are completely unoriginal.
I imagine being blind has its benefits. In my opinion, the main one would be not having to look at people. Granted, there are beautiful people in this world who everyone wants to look at, but that is just a small percentage. The larger group of people is the larger group of people. Most people are big and plain or just plain ugly looking, and some are so big and so frightful to look upon that you wonder how you and that lumbering behemoth can be categorized as the same species.
Blind people get to decide whose face they want to touch to find out what they look like instead of having to be subjected to the eye rape of looking at some ghastly train wreck of a face without even asking for it. It fucking blows that you have no choice in the matter.
You just turn your head to look into the car next to you and holy fucking ugly shitfire, who let that ungodly monstrosity out of the zoo filled with animals that were raped by unwashed people with genetic defects. For the love of Christ, how in the hell do you get acne on your teeth? If you are reading this and you are ugly, who fucking cares.
Seriously, if you let the opinion of other people define who you are and what you think about yourself then whether you are ugly or beautiful or blind to all of it you most certainly are a half eaten piece of worm shit and a total fucking failure. You are not what I think of you, but I am free to have my opinions.
That being said, I would rather be a totally sexy blind man than be able to see how fucking ugly I was.
I do wonder how blind people know when they are done wiping their ass. It can't be by sniff test. No matter how clean said asshole is, if something touches asshole it's going to smell like asshole. I guess after a lifetime of doing it without seeing you just somehow know. Like a medium whose crystal ball has a giant crack in it. A medium asshole.
I assume it is well documented somewhere that I could give a lazy fuck to look up that if you lose one sense all your other senses supposedly heighten their capabilities. The ability to correctly diagnose a clean asshole with no looksies may be one of those powers.
I have been using the word asshole a lot lately. I should look into that. Ha ha ha ha go fuck yourself me.
I don't know though. Many times you think you are done and you take another wipe and lo and behold, more smears of poo, you keep going and then jackpot, smears of blood, you keep going and hot damn you tore out some hair and found a nickel and some legos. Double super secret bonus jackpot points because now you can finish your turd fort. If you find nickels in your poop I would hope the slot on your piggy bank is in the rear.
I imagine I would have heard by now if all blind people smelled like poop because they can't wipe properly. That kind of sweeping generalization would not have gone unnoticed by a fuckhead like myself. So, odds are whatever system is in place is working perfectly.
On another subject, has anyone ever velcroed their ass cheeks or twat lips together? I think that would be most awesome. Oh, the hijinks that would ensue when you sat down for crap time or blasted a moist and mighty queef. 'Who tore a phone book in half then unleashed that queef in here? I'm looking at you Phyllis.' Unleash the Queef. Sounds like a line from a monster movie. I would seek immediate medical attention if you can muster enough force with a queef to decimate the snug bonds of a velcro vagina. Either see a doctor or buy a pinwheel and make that fucker spin.
Well, I can safely say that is the first time I ever suggested that another human being blow a queef at a pinwheel. You can even scream 'FIRE IN THE HOLE' if you like.
I can also safely say it won't be the last. If I was blind but by some miracle of science they could restore my sight and they asked me what is the first thing I would want to see. I would say a thousand women lying spread eagle on a flowery hillside littered with pinwheels and willow trees. As my eyes slowly opened like a newborn babe, they would unleash the queef. The funky breeze would blow gently through the spinning pinwheels as I would softly weep. It would sound majestic, like an angel with diarrhea.
Or my kids, would totally love to look at my kids.
I was going to look up on the interwebs about how can blind people tell when they are done cleaning their shitholes, but I am currently at work. Not a googly search I want to have to explain later. I have enough of a reputation for being fucked in the head for telling people at work that I think faucets looks like dicks. Which they do.
Touch the balls and it pours out, oh yeah, wash your hands in my glorious torrent. Splash my discharge all over your dirty face you slut. Oh gross, you are going to brush your teeth with that. Yikes. You have been looking at them your whole life and never noticed, now you are going to think about touching a dick and balls every time you wash your hands. Gay.
Even though deaf people can see, I bet it is a whole lot easier to sneak up on a deaf dude than a blind dude. It's a lot harder to be completely silent than to hide behind a mailbox with a bat. People who can see get robbed and beat up and fucked in back alleys all the time. Nice double entendre if I do say so, fucked in the back alley. Sweet wordsmithery. Anywho, you don't see many news stories about blind people getting worked over and robbed and cornholed.
It is probably because they are a small percentage of the population, therefore there just aren't as many of them to steal from. I doubt it is because they are really super good at detecting danger. I really don't have a clue, about most things really. I suppose there is very little merit in spending ones time thinking about being blind, faucet dicks and queefy breezes.
What's the point? There is none you shit, there is no point to anything really, we are all just finding different ways to pass the time until we fucking die. I prefer to spend mine contemplating inane bullshit that makes me laugh. If you want to try to uncover the mysteries of the universe, go right ahead you pompous dickpipe, see how far you get. I was already bored with the subject matter after writing that sentence.
Hellwagon.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
I MAY FART ON THE DOG, BUT YOUR KID IS AN ASSHOLE
Blog is such a stupid fucking word it makes me want you to die. Anyway, I have been looking around at other blogs, see how fucked up and stupid that word sounds, to see what other people write about and what makes one of these stupid asshole things successful. Well, it seems that unless I'm planning on palavering on about kids or making relationships work or wondering what life is all about like some philosophical fucking turdboat, then I haven't got a chance in hell of making anything significant out of this. Oh fucking well.
And pictures. People like taking fucking pictures. Everything takes pictures now. I bet there is a condom out there with a camera on it. Now that's taking a fucking picture. Hiyoooooo (or whatever that fat noise Ed McMahon makes would be written as).
I read a few blog descriptions that used the expression 'old soul'. If you ever use the saying 'old soul' you should have your actual soul torn from your rectum by voracious bloodthirsty hellhounds. You should choke on a camel's salty hemorrhoids.
I just want to ask these people, what stranger really gives a fuck about your kids, your relationship or your life, and unless someone I know is in the pictures I could give a shit, and even then big deal. I have plenty of shit to look at, what makes people think I want to look at some lame shit they already looked at. I'm just not that big into second hand looking at shit. That sounds double retarded. Or pretarded. A word I made up that means something was retarded even before it was retarded. Look it up.
I just don't find that stuff interesting. You know what I find interesting? Stupid shit like the fact that I occasionally fart on my dog's head. Why? Perhaps to assert my dominance, maybe as revenge for when it shat on the floor many years ago, but mostly because I am immensely childish and I find that shit funny. Everyone should. If you are at a party at a friend or co-workers house and you drill a titanic fart into the family dog's eyes and don't get one laugh, depart with haste because your friends are all stuck up and lame.
If anyone thinks that is cruel and inhumane to animals than that person hasn't spent an afternoon cleaning up massive inhumane piles of runny dogshit in their yard. If I have to clean up mounds of your shit I should be able to nail farts into your face. In case you were wondering, I did not apply this rule when my children were infants. That would just be mean, but if when they are teenagers they start shitting all over the house then I might let the dog shit on them as they sleep, or dump the cat shit box on them.
Also, its not like dogs hate the smell of shit, come to think of it the dog probably loves it. It probably looks forward to it. 'Oh my god, he's eating onion covered chili cheese dogs, today is going to be a glorious fucking day. Yes! You Sir, you are the fart whisperer. A whimsical wizard of flatulence, please wait until I open my mouth.' Glad I talked this out. No more farting on my dog, that shit just got too familiar and intimate. I will just fart on strange dogs. I know you aren't supposed to pet them, but no one ever said anything about farting on them. I think having the surprise factor and no shared history will make the whole experience much less awkward.
I do not currently fart on my kids, much. A good crop dusting every once in a while never hurt anybody.
While we are on the farty subject, once, when I was picking up some medication from the pharmacy, the nice lady behind the counter asked me if I had any questions for the pharmacist. I said 'Yes, if I hold in my farts will it make my breath stink?' She looked confused. You know why, because she didn't fucking know the answer and she was probably holding a fart in at the time. It would have been awesome if she said yes, it makes your breath smell terrible and then I farted really loud and screamed 'goodbye breath mints, hello fart town', but that didn't happen. I haven't lost hope though, I will have to go the pharmacy again at some point. Game on.
People take their lives far too seriously and will always want to talk about what they deem to be the important things in their lives. Which pretty much leaves out farting on animals and farting at the pharmacy. If you fart at the pharmacy does it then become the fartacy? For most people, it all boils down to kids and relationships and the meaning of life.
Hell, anyone can talk about kids and most people will be interested because it's a point of commonality. I have kids, you have kids, how fucking amazing is that? Don't your kids do hilarious and cutesy and sometimes wildly inappropriate things, just like my kids? Great. Let us now laugh riotously at how our kids do similar things that sometimes embarrass us but don't we just end up loving them all the more for it. Indeed. Har-de-fucking-har-har-balls. We should hold hands and skip through a dewy meadow in the springtime and tie our dicks into fancy veiny bow ties and fart splendiferous clouds of butterflies.
Kids are the best thing in the world, but I hardly think the goddamn internet is the place to discuss my goddamn children. If you spend your whole day with your kids and then spend your free time reading about someone elses kids then I have to wonder what in the fuck is wrong with your silly ass. If you need something to relate to, something that makes you feel like you aren't dealing with this raising kids shit alone because your kids make you crazy then here you go.
A lot of people have kids, kids are tough to deal with. No shit. What a revelation. Kids act crazy. No shit. You don't say, that is quite insightful. Well, anyone would act crazy and annoying if they are trying to figure out the entire fucking universe all the time. Kids are like time travelers, waking up every day to a new world they don't understand and that makes them ask a million questions. Answer as many as you can before you lose your shitting mind and yell at them and then shut up about them. It's not that bad, at least your kids aren't shitting in a dirt hole, drinking out of puddles next to said dirt hole, eating random insects for nourishment and dodging gunfire.
Raising children is not hard to figure out. Treat them with respect, don't be a dick or a cunt to them, feed them and keep them safe. If your kid gives you tons of problems and acts like an asshole, guess what, your kid just might be an asshole. Where do you think adult assholes come from, asshole?
How do you know if your kid is an asshole? It's really easy, just answer this one question.
Is your kid an asshole?
If you answered yes, then congratulations, your kid is a total asshole.
Take it from a real asshole, it's so much better than being a dick or a cunt. Or both. A cuntdick. A dickcunt. I don't know. I think I am going with cuntdick. It rolls off the tongue better, has more flow, those hard K sounds on both ends gives it a beautiful symmetry. See ya later ya fuckin' cuntdick. See, some things, they just plain work cuntdick.
Hellwagon.
And pictures. People like taking fucking pictures. Everything takes pictures now. I bet there is a condom out there with a camera on it. Now that's taking a fucking picture. Hiyoooooo (or whatever that fat noise Ed McMahon makes would be written as).
I read a few blog descriptions that used the expression 'old soul'. If you ever use the saying 'old soul' you should have your actual soul torn from your rectum by voracious bloodthirsty hellhounds. You should choke on a camel's salty hemorrhoids.
I just want to ask these people, what stranger really gives a fuck about your kids, your relationship or your life, and unless someone I know is in the pictures I could give a shit, and even then big deal. I have plenty of shit to look at, what makes people think I want to look at some lame shit they already looked at. I'm just not that big into second hand looking at shit. That sounds double retarded. Or pretarded. A word I made up that means something was retarded even before it was retarded. Look it up.
I just don't find that stuff interesting. You know what I find interesting? Stupid shit like the fact that I occasionally fart on my dog's head. Why? Perhaps to assert my dominance, maybe as revenge for when it shat on the floor many years ago, but mostly because I am immensely childish and I find that shit funny. Everyone should. If you are at a party at a friend or co-workers house and you drill a titanic fart into the family dog's eyes and don't get one laugh, depart with haste because your friends are all stuck up and lame.
If anyone thinks that is cruel and inhumane to animals than that person hasn't spent an afternoon cleaning up massive inhumane piles of runny dogshit in their yard. If I have to clean up mounds of your shit I should be able to nail farts into your face. In case you were wondering, I did not apply this rule when my children were infants. That would just be mean, but if when they are teenagers they start shitting all over the house then I might let the dog shit on them as they sleep, or dump the cat shit box on them.
Also, its not like dogs hate the smell of shit, come to think of it the dog probably loves it. It probably looks forward to it. 'Oh my god, he's eating onion covered chili cheese dogs, today is going to be a glorious fucking day. Yes! You Sir, you are the fart whisperer. A whimsical wizard of flatulence, please wait until I open my mouth.' Glad I talked this out. No more farting on my dog, that shit just got too familiar and intimate. I will just fart on strange dogs. I know you aren't supposed to pet them, but no one ever said anything about farting on them. I think having the surprise factor and no shared history will make the whole experience much less awkward.
I do not currently fart on my kids, much. A good crop dusting every once in a while never hurt anybody.
While we are on the farty subject, once, when I was picking up some medication from the pharmacy, the nice lady behind the counter asked me if I had any questions for the pharmacist. I said 'Yes, if I hold in my farts will it make my breath stink?' She looked confused. You know why, because she didn't fucking know the answer and she was probably holding a fart in at the time. It would have been awesome if she said yes, it makes your breath smell terrible and then I farted really loud and screamed 'goodbye breath mints, hello fart town', but that didn't happen. I haven't lost hope though, I will have to go the pharmacy again at some point. Game on.
People take their lives far too seriously and will always want to talk about what they deem to be the important things in their lives. Which pretty much leaves out farting on animals and farting at the pharmacy. If you fart at the pharmacy does it then become the fartacy? For most people, it all boils down to kids and relationships and the meaning of life.
Hell, anyone can talk about kids and most people will be interested because it's a point of commonality. I have kids, you have kids, how fucking amazing is that? Don't your kids do hilarious and cutesy and sometimes wildly inappropriate things, just like my kids? Great. Let us now laugh riotously at how our kids do similar things that sometimes embarrass us but don't we just end up loving them all the more for it. Indeed. Har-de-fucking-har-har-balls. We should hold hands and skip through a dewy meadow in the springtime and tie our dicks into fancy veiny bow ties and fart splendiferous clouds of butterflies.
Kids are the best thing in the world, but I hardly think the goddamn internet is the place to discuss my goddamn children. If you spend your whole day with your kids and then spend your free time reading about someone elses kids then I have to wonder what in the fuck is wrong with your silly ass. If you need something to relate to, something that makes you feel like you aren't dealing with this raising kids shit alone because your kids make you crazy then here you go.
A lot of people have kids, kids are tough to deal with. No shit. What a revelation. Kids act crazy. No shit. You don't say, that is quite insightful. Well, anyone would act crazy and annoying if they are trying to figure out the entire fucking universe all the time. Kids are like time travelers, waking up every day to a new world they don't understand and that makes them ask a million questions. Answer as many as you can before you lose your shitting mind and yell at them and then shut up about them. It's not that bad, at least your kids aren't shitting in a dirt hole, drinking out of puddles next to said dirt hole, eating random insects for nourishment and dodging gunfire.
Raising children is not hard to figure out. Treat them with respect, don't be a dick or a cunt to them, feed them and keep them safe. If your kid gives you tons of problems and acts like an asshole, guess what, your kid just might be an asshole. Where do you think adult assholes come from, asshole?
How do you know if your kid is an asshole? It's really easy, just answer this one question.
Is your kid an asshole?
If you answered yes, then congratulations, your kid is a total asshole.
Take it from a real asshole, it's so much better than being a dick or a cunt. Or both. A cuntdick. A dickcunt. I don't know. I think I am going with cuntdick. It rolls off the tongue better, has more flow, those hard K sounds on both ends gives it a beautiful symmetry. See ya later ya fuckin' cuntdick. See, some things, they just plain work cuntdick.
Hellwagon.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
GIVING IT ALL FAST AND SHIT WITH A PISS BONER
This has nothing to do with the post below. I just had to share that someone came across Hellwagon because they typed 'using Aspercreme to masturbate' into Google search. That has to be one of the most desperate moments in a person's life. That is just plain fucking sad. If you come back here Aspercreme Masturbator, do me a favor and get the fuck out of here and go buy your silly scab dicked ass some lotion. Stat.
Not that I am one to point a fast finger, so on with the story....
I was at the beach with my family the first time I got hammered ass drunk. I was about fifteen. My friend and I stood beside this liquor store hoping to get some cool older dudes to buy us some booze. The guy who finally did it, well let's just say he really wasn't some cool ass dude. It was cool of him to buy it, don't get me wrong, but this guy had an agenda. Not a pervy pedo agenda, but the I am going to get all fucking wrecked on these stupid kids money agenda. He looked like the last three days of his life consisted of the following:
Day 1 - Put out a small garbage fire with his face and beard.
Day 2 - Walked naked through a blistering sandstorm started by the fart of God.
Day 3 - Nearly drowned in a river of frothy monster piss. If Frankenstein ever shot hot angry piss on a dude, it was this dude.
He was wet and dusty at the same time, not an easy thing to do.
We gave him forty bucks for which we received some rancid bottom shelf tequila with a 'worm' in it. It looked more like a bottle of gasoline with some ancient shriveled foreskin floating in it. Not that I have seen a lot of ancient foreskins, I am just presuming that is what they would look like. The bottle probably cost about six dollars, and that is a generous estimate. We received no change. He had his own bag of stuff, he didn't say a word, handed us the bottle and got in his car and left. Now I was pissed about the money, but those are the rules. You expect some random dirtball to buy you booze, you suffer any consequences resulting from that transaction.
We didn't care, we had alcohol.
Now, at this age, I was the most ridiculous looking human being on the face of the goddamn earth. I looked like Napoleon Dynamite's mentally challenged anorexic younger brother. A mullet and braces. It was a testament to my particular brand of dickhead charm that I ever got laid at all when I was younger. In spite of my appearance, I was, and still am, the most conceited and arrogant prick you would ever meet. I am awesome like that. I have always had a problem keeping my mouth shut about me and I don't think I can talk without being caustic and sarcastic.
People then as well as now would always say 'why do you have to curse so much?'
Well, asshole, I can't say fuck without cursing now can I? I don't want to even live in a world where I can't say fuck all the time. I wish there was a rooster outside my window every morning that crowed 'fuck-a-doodle-doo' like a motherfucker when that fucking sun comes up.
When an adult says shit like 'oh fudge' and 'darn it' it sounds so dejected and sad that they should just die with their balls stuffed in their mouth. At a certain point in life you have earned the right to curse. Some earn it earlier than others, there are some babies that should be able to shoot out of the womb and scream 'this is some straight up motherfucking bullshit' or dryly say 'it stinks in there', but I have yet to see that.
Anyway, getting drunk and getting laid and being awesome is not the point of this story. Almost every teenager gets drunk and has sex at some point. It was what happened after that. Something that just does not happen to anyone. I hope.
We met these girls, I have no remembrance of their names, I vaguely remember their shapes, after all this was twenty five years ago. I think the girl I was with her name started with a C. These girls start drinking with us, they are a few years older, laughing at our inexperience and what have you. One thing leads to another and my friend ends up fingerbanging this girl in a giant drain pipe on the beach at three in the morning while me and the other one start screwing in the sand.
At that age, you have no moves. You think that fucking really fast is the way to go, like you are trying to start a fire from the friction, something to light your post coital cigarrette on. So I'm giving it to her all fast and shit, thinking she has got to be so impressed with my speedy delivery. 'Wow, this must be the fastest dude ever, it's like gettin' it from The Flash.' Then it hit me like a tsunami. I have to piss, NOW! So, I mumble 'I have to piss'. So she says 'well, go then'.
My mind heard 'GO, GO, JUST FUCKING GO' screamed in a British accent for some reason, and by some miracle of biological science I was able to switch from sex boner to piss boner instantly and I went. After about five seconds of rampant hot pissing it dawns on her what is happening. The next thing I know I am being thrown violently from on top of her like she was an exploding grenade and she's screaming 'HE FUCKING PISSED IN ME, HE FUCKING PISSED IN ME' and I land with my knob in the sand and start laughing like a complete dick, because let's face it, pissing in someone is fucking hilarious.
If you are into that sort of thing, if that gets you off, you are totally fucked up and gross, but if it is a complete stupid drunken accident it's really funny. She didn't think so, but to be fair she did not wake up that morning thinking she would be my toilet. No one wants a piss douche.
I hear my friend laughing in the giant drain pipe but then he is immediately upset with me because her friend wouldn't let him give her the ol' fast finger anymore. Yes, at that age you fuck fast and you finger fast. Fingerfast would be a great band name. Maybe she thought that was what we were into, that we had some sort of bet going and the finger was going to come out and she would get shat on at any moment. My friend followed them down the beach and left me there laughing and apologizing.
My night went worse from there. I sat on the beach contemplating my eventful evening and the sand was blowing in my eyes, so I brilliantly turned my sweatshirt around backwards and put the hood over my face. No more sand problem. What I didn't know was that it would make me incredibly dizzy and sick to the point I threw up and it blew backwards over my face because I didn't have enough sense or the ability to pull the hood off first.
I rode the bus back to the rented condo, got physically thrown to the sidewalk at my stop by the bus driver. I guess having a pouch in front of your face filled with puke and singing 'Der Kommissar' doesn't exactly endear you to someone who is trying to concentrate on the road. It didn't help that the only lines I knew were 'Don't turn around, oh-oh (then whatever the fuck the noise they make is) Der Kommissar's in town wa-ah-oh'. If he thought he had it bad listening to me sing and smelling my puke, he should talk to that poor pissed in girl about what a real problem is.
Sorry Ms. whatever the hell your name was. I hope your life was all uphill from there. It would almost have to be.
Hellwagon.
Not that I am one to point a fast finger, so on with the story....
I was at the beach with my family the first time I got hammered ass drunk. I was about fifteen. My friend and I stood beside this liquor store hoping to get some cool older dudes to buy us some booze. The guy who finally did it, well let's just say he really wasn't some cool ass dude. It was cool of him to buy it, don't get me wrong, but this guy had an agenda. Not a pervy pedo agenda, but the I am going to get all fucking wrecked on these stupid kids money agenda. He looked like the last three days of his life consisted of the following:
Day 1 - Put out a small garbage fire with his face and beard.
Day 2 - Walked naked through a blistering sandstorm started by the fart of God.
Day 3 - Nearly drowned in a river of frothy monster piss. If Frankenstein ever shot hot angry piss on a dude, it was this dude.
He was wet and dusty at the same time, not an easy thing to do.
We gave him forty bucks for which we received some rancid bottom shelf tequila with a 'worm' in it. It looked more like a bottle of gasoline with some ancient shriveled foreskin floating in it. Not that I have seen a lot of ancient foreskins, I am just presuming that is what they would look like. The bottle probably cost about six dollars, and that is a generous estimate. We received no change. He had his own bag of stuff, he didn't say a word, handed us the bottle and got in his car and left. Now I was pissed about the money, but those are the rules. You expect some random dirtball to buy you booze, you suffer any consequences resulting from that transaction.
We didn't care, we had alcohol.
Now, at this age, I was the most ridiculous looking human being on the face of the goddamn earth. I looked like Napoleon Dynamite's mentally challenged anorexic younger brother. A mullet and braces. It was a testament to my particular brand of dickhead charm that I ever got laid at all when I was younger. In spite of my appearance, I was, and still am, the most conceited and arrogant prick you would ever meet. I am awesome like that. I have always had a problem keeping my mouth shut about me and I don't think I can talk without being caustic and sarcastic.
People then as well as now would always say 'why do you have to curse so much?'
Well, asshole, I can't say fuck without cursing now can I? I don't want to even live in a world where I can't say fuck all the time. I wish there was a rooster outside my window every morning that crowed 'fuck-a-doodle-doo' like a motherfucker when that fucking sun comes up.
When an adult says shit like 'oh fudge' and 'darn it' it sounds so dejected and sad that they should just die with their balls stuffed in their mouth. At a certain point in life you have earned the right to curse. Some earn it earlier than others, there are some babies that should be able to shoot out of the womb and scream 'this is some straight up motherfucking bullshit' or dryly say 'it stinks in there', but I have yet to see that.
Anyway, getting drunk and getting laid and being awesome is not the point of this story. Almost every teenager gets drunk and has sex at some point. It was what happened after that. Something that just does not happen to anyone. I hope.
We met these girls, I have no remembrance of their names, I vaguely remember their shapes, after all this was twenty five years ago. I think the girl I was with her name started with a C. These girls start drinking with us, they are a few years older, laughing at our inexperience and what have you. One thing leads to another and my friend ends up fingerbanging this girl in a giant drain pipe on the beach at three in the morning while me and the other one start screwing in the sand.
At that age, you have no moves. You think that fucking really fast is the way to go, like you are trying to start a fire from the friction, something to light your post coital cigarrette on. So I'm giving it to her all fast and shit, thinking she has got to be so impressed with my speedy delivery. 'Wow, this must be the fastest dude ever, it's like gettin' it from The Flash.' Then it hit me like a tsunami. I have to piss, NOW! So, I mumble 'I have to piss'. So she says 'well, go then'.
My mind heard 'GO, GO, JUST FUCKING GO' screamed in a British accent for some reason, and by some miracle of biological science I was able to switch from sex boner to piss boner instantly and I went. After about five seconds of rampant hot pissing it dawns on her what is happening. The next thing I know I am being thrown violently from on top of her like she was an exploding grenade and she's screaming 'HE FUCKING PISSED IN ME, HE FUCKING PISSED IN ME' and I land with my knob in the sand and start laughing like a complete dick, because let's face it, pissing in someone is fucking hilarious.
If you are into that sort of thing, if that gets you off, you are totally fucked up and gross, but if it is a complete stupid drunken accident it's really funny. She didn't think so, but to be fair she did not wake up that morning thinking she would be my toilet. No one wants a piss douche.
I hear my friend laughing in the giant drain pipe but then he is immediately upset with me because her friend wouldn't let him give her the ol' fast finger anymore. Yes, at that age you fuck fast and you finger fast. Fingerfast would be a great band name. Maybe she thought that was what we were into, that we had some sort of bet going and the finger was going to come out and she would get shat on at any moment. My friend followed them down the beach and left me there laughing and apologizing.
My night went worse from there. I sat on the beach contemplating my eventful evening and the sand was blowing in my eyes, so I brilliantly turned my sweatshirt around backwards and put the hood over my face. No more sand problem. What I didn't know was that it would make me incredibly dizzy and sick to the point I threw up and it blew backwards over my face because I didn't have enough sense or the ability to pull the hood off first.
I rode the bus back to the rented condo, got physically thrown to the sidewalk at my stop by the bus driver. I guess having a pouch in front of your face filled with puke and singing 'Der Kommissar' doesn't exactly endear you to someone who is trying to concentrate on the road. It didn't help that the only lines I knew were 'Don't turn around, oh-oh (then whatever the fuck the noise they make is) Der Kommissar's in town wa-ah-oh'. If he thought he had it bad listening to me sing and smelling my puke, he should talk to that poor pissed in girl about what a real problem is.
Sorry Ms. whatever the hell your name was. I hope your life was all uphill from there. It would almost have to be.
Hellwagon.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
LIVE YOUR DREAM AND SNIFF THE CREAM
I understand that if a company is trying to sell deodorant or soap or perfume, the commercial is going to have its share of second hand dickbags acting like the shit smells goddamn awesome. All the actors make the stupid 'I'm so fucking surprised that this product that is supposed to smell good really smells fucking good' face. A whiff, the eyes widen, a wry smile and a nod and I can't believe it, by using this I will no longer smell like an elephant's flappy queef. I will now possess the musky musk of fluffy unicorn farts floating over the briny sea.
But last night it happened. Aspercreme. Really, you're really going to do the good smellin' face over some Aspercreme. I hardly believed that the old woman in the commercial I saw last night was really into the scent of Aspercreme, for all of your ol' lady aches and ol' man pains and it don't stink like you think. I guess maybe I could buy that she was surprised it didn't have the aroma of a half dead donkey vagina, so that could account for the face, but I wasn't buying it.
She was shit for an actress. She totally looked like she had smelled some Aspercreme before. Hell, she looked like she had plenty of experience smelling all kinds of cream. She's a slut.
Ahhhhh yeahhhh grandma, I got a sore bone that needs some soothing good smellin' cream.
Wow. I have no idea where that came from or where I am going with this. I mean, she is probably a really nice lady. She wanted to get into serious acting but obviously didn't have the talent and never had the looks to make it big. She hustled, went to auditions for years and years and kept hearing 'we'll let you know' and by never calling her back they only let her know they thought she was a worthless ugly asshole with a baboon's distended rectum where her mouth should be. They knew she could never sniff the cream.
She did nasty things, soul crushing things on countless casting couches to get the coveted role of Lady Number Three in some fucking cut rate titty balls movie no one ever saw, and the only line she got to say is 'Can I take your coat?' to some tough goon who turns to her and says 'No, but you can take this!' and he slaps her roughly in her sloppy tit meat. It wasn't even in the script, he just felt instant hatred towards her due to her poor acting skills. Now, here she is, decades later, struggling to keep her dream alive by sniffing the cream.
You would think she would sniff the hell out of that cream. That fucking old cream sniffer. But no, I wasn't buying it, I could tell she was just mailing it in. She is lucky I wasn't the director on that shoot because I would have totally let her know that she was a complete loser who couldn't even sniff the cream. Who can't sniff the cream? She can't.
You'll never sniff cream in this town again.
Everyone should have the guts to pursue their dreams, but everyone should also know when they just have to let them go. If you are seventy years old and in the acting game and you are still daydreaming about winning an Oscar when you just got finished with your twenty-second take at cream sniffing because the director isn't buying it, it's time to throw in the fucking towel. I imagine when pornstars retire they throw in the cumrag, but I digress.
I wonder how many other old degenerate cockholes didn't get the sniffing gig. There were probably thirty or forty grannies crying in their panties because they just didn't have that cream sniffing "it" factor, and all of those people who didn't make the cut have to be subjected to watching that commercial and have to be enraged at the piss poor cream sniffing going on.
She was probably all proud about it too, calling her kids and saying 'wait until you see how good your Mom sniffs the cream, the casting agent told me I was a natural cream sniffer'. Then her kids have to act like it was totally believable to her face but when she turns her back they all mock her by sniffing things with the same stupid look on their faces.
But that can only last so long, it was her greatest moment and she relives it all too often. She has become a sad and pathetic shell of her former self. She smells strangers in the street just to make the face. If only she could get it right she thinks, they will give me another gig, a better one. So long Aspercreme, hello adult diapers. Then I can act like I don't smell anything, it's perfect. My urine soaked diaper will be my dirty little secret, and then I can wink at the camera and totally act like my dusty pubes haven't turned into a piss mop.
Her children never buy her flowers anymore because they just can't bear to watch her smell anything. They don't ask her if the milk has gone bad. They never wear cologne or perfume. They walk into the other room when they have to fart.
It's a brutal realization that her life long dream was all reduced to sniffing the cream. That's poetry motherfucker.
Hellwagon.
But last night it happened. Aspercreme. Really, you're really going to do the good smellin' face over some Aspercreme. I hardly believed that the old woman in the commercial I saw last night was really into the scent of Aspercreme, for all of your ol' lady aches and ol' man pains and it don't stink like you think. I guess maybe I could buy that she was surprised it didn't have the aroma of a half dead donkey vagina, so that could account for the face, but I wasn't buying it.
She was shit for an actress. She totally looked like she had smelled some Aspercreme before. Hell, she looked like she had plenty of experience smelling all kinds of cream. She's a slut.
Ahhhhh yeahhhh grandma, I got a sore bone that needs some soothing good smellin' cream.
Wow. I have no idea where that came from or where I am going with this. I mean, she is probably a really nice lady. She wanted to get into serious acting but obviously didn't have the talent and never had the looks to make it big. She hustled, went to auditions for years and years and kept hearing 'we'll let you know' and by never calling her back they only let her know they thought she was a worthless ugly asshole with a baboon's distended rectum where her mouth should be. They knew she could never sniff the cream.
She did nasty things, soul crushing things on countless casting couches to get the coveted role of Lady Number Three in some fucking cut rate titty balls movie no one ever saw, and the only line she got to say is 'Can I take your coat?' to some tough goon who turns to her and says 'No, but you can take this!' and he slaps her roughly in her sloppy tit meat. It wasn't even in the script, he just felt instant hatred towards her due to her poor acting skills. Now, here she is, decades later, struggling to keep her dream alive by sniffing the cream.
You would think she would sniff the hell out of that cream. That fucking old cream sniffer. But no, I wasn't buying it, I could tell she was just mailing it in. She is lucky I wasn't the director on that shoot because I would have totally let her know that she was a complete loser who couldn't even sniff the cream. Who can't sniff the cream? She can't.
You'll never sniff cream in this town again.
Everyone should have the guts to pursue their dreams, but everyone should also know when they just have to let them go. If you are seventy years old and in the acting game and you are still daydreaming about winning an Oscar when you just got finished with your twenty-second take at cream sniffing because the director isn't buying it, it's time to throw in the fucking towel. I imagine when pornstars retire they throw in the cumrag, but I digress.
I wonder how many other old degenerate cockholes didn't get the sniffing gig. There were probably thirty or forty grannies crying in their panties because they just didn't have that cream sniffing "it" factor, and all of those people who didn't make the cut have to be subjected to watching that commercial and have to be enraged at the piss poor cream sniffing going on.
She was probably all proud about it too, calling her kids and saying 'wait until you see how good your Mom sniffs the cream, the casting agent told me I was a natural cream sniffer'. Then her kids have to act like it was totally believable to her face but when she turns her back they all mock her by sniffing things with the same stupid look on their faces.
But that can only last so long, it was her greatest moment and she relives it all too often. She has become a sad and pathetic shell of her former self. She smells strangers in the street just to make the face. If only she could get it right she thinks, they will give me another gig, a better one. So long Aspercreme, hello adult diapers. Then I can act like I don't smell anything, it's perfect. My urine soaked diaper will be my dirty little secret, and then I can wink at the camera and totally act like my dusty pubes haven't turned into a piss mop.
Her children never buy her flowers anymore because they just can't bear to watch her smell anything. They don't ask her if the milk has gone bad. They never wear cologne or perfume. They walk into the other room when they have to fart.
It's a brutal realization that her life long dream was all reduced to sniffing the cream. That's poetry motherfucker.
Hellwagon.
Monday, May 14, 2012
WHY MASTURBATING BUMS ARE BETTER THAN YOU
If you think someone has their life together, you are wrong. Every single person on this planet is just winging it. I don't care if they are ridiculously successful and famous or rummaging through rat vomit and bum cum in a dumpster for a meal. Having your shit together is a matter of perception.
A bum, maybe not the same bum who did the bum cum in the dumpster, but another bum may perceive you to be an elitist corporate stooge who sold their soul for social position and a paycheck. You may look at that same bum and wonder how did they let their life get so far away from them. Some people just aren't so good at faking having it all figured out, whatever 'it all' happens to be. Just because someone wildly jerks off in a dumpster, it doesn't mean they are any further away from figuring it all out than you are. All paths lead to the same place, most of us just choose to funnel ourselves into the societal construct we were born into.
I am not going to go so far as to say that a homeless masturbator is a bastion of freedom and a pioneer of any kind. But at least he is not sitting around giving a shit how many friends he has on facebook.
"Dumpster Tugger says I just tugged off a massive one behind Wendy's. Now that burgers got some EXTRA MAYO. LOL."
Hellwagon likes this.
Life gets away from all of us. Very few people are living the lives they thought they would. For most of us every day is a blind fight through a fiery diarrhea hurricane with your mouth open. I would only be mildly surprised if somewhere in the world a woman has been saving her menstruation in a fetid oil drum in order to pour it on my head the split second after I have the greatest moment of my life.
I imagine I will feel like Carrie all pissed off at the prom like she had her period again, but without the ability to punish my tormentor. I will just be some red faced dickpipe wondering if I should even bother to retaliate by throwing my own poo.
It would be like throwing pebbles at a tank really. If someone nearly drowns you in their menstrual flow, it's over buddy. No matter what you do, you lose. Period. (Ha ha, Period.)
Anyway, I have to believe that even the most rich and famous and financially stable and focused people in the world still have times when they own up to themselves and have their own moments of recrimination and self doubt just like everyone else.
We are all taking a beating, some of us can just take more than others, and I imagine a bum's dick takes one hell of a beating. Any human being sitting alone wonders who in the hell they are, questions everything they have ever done, at one point or another we all crawl into our own heads and rummage around the depths of our own self worth like the bum rooting around in a dumpster. Are we doing what we should, are we fulfilling our purpose and giving meaning to our lives? Having to answer to that is downright terrifying. So, to escape from that we will bury our brains in our televisions, computers and stupid ass phones, anything we can possibly do to distract us from any form of self examination.
The noise of the world will never drown out the sound of yourself. You cannot hide in there forever.
I don't know what got me rambling on this subject. I think a lot of it has to do with watching every jagoff in the universe shut out the world and incessantly finger their phones like teenage boys trying to find an electric clit. Maybe my life isn't as interesting as the rest of the world. I mean, I get the social media thing, your life is your big fuck all show and you want to be a star and everyone should be interested in you because you are so witty and fantastic and cool.
Let me let you in on something, you are very probably really fucking boring and all of those 'friends' are just too nice to let you know. Everyone plays with their phones all the time and gets on facebook and twatters about themselves because it gives them a sense of importance and purpose. You become the center of your mundane universe and people pay attention for a few seconds.
Then people forget.
You will not forget the day you saw a masturbating hobo. You will forget every facebook post or tweet you have ever read. Social media has no impact. It has no depth. It has no character. There is no time or place or story to tell, it never fleshes itself out, all things die instantly because the next thing has just come along. There are no more men leading lives of quiet desperation. Now, well now we see how desperate we all are every second of the day.
If you are trying to figure out who you are and your place in the world, you are not going to end your journey of self discovery in the finite space of twitter or by finally writing that post that every single friend likes. A homeless person has the edge over you. They are concerned with basic needs, food, water, and a warm place to sleep and possibly tug one out and they don't feel compelled to tell everyone about it. They are too busy living their lives to give a fuck what you think about it.
Hellwagon.
A bum, maybe not the same bum who did the bum cum in the dumpster, but another bum may perceive you to be an elitist corporate stooge who sold their soul for social position and a paycheck. You may look at that same bum and wonder how did they let their life get so far away from them. Some people just aren't so good at faking having it all figured out, whatever 'it all' happens to be. Just because someone wildly jerks off in a dumpster, it doesn't mean they are any further away from figuring it all out than you are. All paths lead to the same place, most of us just choose to funnel ourselves into the societal construct we were born into.
I am not going to go so far as to say that a homeless masturbator is a bastion of freedom and a pioneer of any kind. But at least he is not sitting around giving a shit how many friends he has on facebook.
"Dumpster Tugger says I just tugged off a massive one behind Wendy's. Now that burgers got some EXTRA MAYO. LOL."
Hellwagon likes this.
Life gets away from all of us. Very few people are living the lives they thought they would. For most of us every day is a blind fight through a fiery diarrhea hurricane with your mouth open. I would only be mildly surprised if somewhere in the world a woman has been saving her menstruation in a fetid oil drum in order to pour it on my head the split second after I have the greatest moment of my life.
I imagine I will feel like Carrie all pissed off at the prom like she had her period again, but without the ability to punish my tormentor. I will just be some red faced dickpipe wondering if I should even bother to retaliate by throwing my own poo.
It would be like throwing pebbles at a tank really. If someone nearly drowns you in their menstrual flow, it's over buddy. No matter what you do, you lose. Period. (Ha ha, Period.)
Anyway, I have to believe that even the most rich and famous and financially stable and focused people in the world still have times when they own up to themselves and have their own moments of recrimination and self doubt just like everyone else.
We are all taking a beating, some of us can just take more than others, and I imagine a bum's dick takes one hell of a beating. Any human being sitting alone wonders who in the hell they are, questions everything they have ever done, at one point or another we all crawl into our own heads and rummage around the depths of our own self worth like the bum rooting around in a dumpster. Are we doing what we should, are we fulfilling our purpose and giving meaning to our lives? Having to answer to that is downright terrifying. So, to escape from that we will bury our brains in our televisions, computers and stupid ass phones, anything we can possibly do to distract us from any form of self examination.
The noise of the world will never drown out the sound of yourself. You cannot hide in there forever.
I don't know what got me rambling on this subject. I think a lot of it has to do with watching every jagoff in the universe shut out the world and incessantly finger their phones like teenage boys trying to find an electric clit. Maybe my life isn't as interesting as the rest of the world. I mean, I get the social media thing, your life is your big fuck all show and you want to be a star and everyone should be interested in you because you are so witty and fantastic and cool.
Let me let you in on something, you are very probably really fucking boring and all of those 'friends' are just too nice to let you know. Everyone plays with their phones all the time and gets on facebook and twatters about themselves because it gives them a sense of importance and purpose. You become the center of your mundane universe and people pay attention for a few seconds.
Then people forget.
You will not forget the day you saw a masturbating hobo. You will forget every facebook post or tweet you have ever read. Social media has no impact. It has no depth. It has no character. There is no time or place or story to tell, it never fleshes itself out, all things die instantly because the next thing has just come along. There are no more men leading lives of quiet desperation. Now, well now we see how desperate we all are every second of the day.
If you are trying to figure out who you are and your place in the world, you are not going to end your journey of self discovery in the finite space of twitter or by finally writing that post that every single friend likes. A homeless person has the edge over you. They are concerned with basic needs, food, water, and a warm place to sleep and possibly tug one out and they don't feel compelled to tell everyone about it. They are too busy living their lives to give a fuck what you think about it.
Hellwagon.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
I PICKED MY NOSE AND SHIT CAME OUT
I think everyone at some point has thought about what superpowers they would like to possess. Usually people want to be able to fly or have super strength, like hopping on a plane or lifting some weights had never occurred to them. Reading minds is a big one as well, that would last all of about thirty seconds before you wanted out. Knowing the sick and depraved or just plain stupid thoughts of everyone around you would just be horrible.
Imagine listening to someone think about what they watched on television last night, what a fantastic thing that would be to know what your neighbors innermost thoughts and feelings are about Dancing with Who The Fuck Even Cares About Dancing or America's Got Genital Canker Sores. Wouldn't it be awful to find out that the person you think is completely stupid is thinking the same thing about your completely stupid ass. How stupid would you feel then Mr. Mindreader, you stupid grit eating greasy fuckhole.
Ahem. Anywho, flying just doesn't seem that awesome to me either, I mean big shittin' Wow, I was down there and now I'm up here. It's the same as walking only you're going up and you're lazier. You might as well get a hard-on over an elevator. I know flying would be great because you wouldn't have to put up with morons in other cars, but I have another power in mind that would solve that very problem...
1. I Can Throw Anything Into Outer Space
I don't want super strength in any other situation, only when I want to throw something into space.
Traffic problem. Not a problem. I just get out of my shitty car and throw your car at the goddamn sun. Dog next door won't stop barking at the moon in the middle of the night. Well then, I'd say your next stop is the moon you mongrel bitch. I think this would just come in handy in all types of situations. I could just throw my garbage into outer space, which would have really come in handy all those years ago when I was arrested for littering. Well, littering and telling the cop who was writing the ticket to go fuck himself.
There have just been so many times when I have been trapped in a conversation with some random enema bag and had no means of escape. It would be so nice if I could just grab their arm and leg and go all human discus with them and send them careening and screaming into the stratosphere, like a poorly dressed helicopter shooting diarrhea missiles through the clouds.
Imagine walking into the middle of a neighborhood basketball game. You grab the ball and just heave it into space and walk away. If anyone gets all mad and wants to do anything about it, send them right into space after the ball if they like balls so damn much. Your kids are fighting over a toy and no matter what you say they just won't stop, well it's God's toy now.
Although with the way the world is today I would probably be protested by some tree fingering environmentalist ball biters because I would be polluting space somehow. Like space really gives a fuck.
2. Make Any Two People Hug Each Other As Long As I Want
I came up with this one just the other day because of the President saying he supports gay marriage. Let me just preface this with the fact that I could give a flying shit about the President personally, black or white or whatever, if you are a politician of any kind that makes you an automatic asshole. It comes with the territory. Just like being a security guard makes you a dick, life just works out that way.
I find it hilarious that this is even an issue. Who gives a fuck if gay people want to marry each other? Who gives a fuck if people are gay? Who gives a fuck about people!?!! It's not like gay people are trying to make you gay or anyone else gay, they just want to be gay. Those people that say marriage can only be a sacred bond between a man and a woman are total fags. If gay people get married how does that even affect you at all. It doesn't. If gay marriage offends your delicate sensibilities, then I am going to make you bear hug random gay people constantly for years on end and all your narrow minded hick friends can call you names and treat you like utter shit until you get some goddamn perspective.
I will never get it. It's not like gay married couples will all of a sudden start fucking in front of you or rape you, if that happened you would just call the damn cops. You would do the same thing if a straight couple started fisting each other in the supermarket parking lot. And if your kid is going to be gay, they are going to be gay. No outside influence is going go make that happen.
If I made you hug a gay dude for a month, is that going to make you gay? If it does, you were gay in the first place.
3. Whoever I Point At Shits All Over Themselves
I cannot think of a situation where this would not be awesome. You would be the ultimate force in the universe. No one would ever cross you or have a bad thing to say. As soon as word got out that you had this magnificent power you would never pay for a drink again. You would win at everything. Anything you ever wanted would be handed to you out of fear. There is nothing more degrading and humiliating than shitting yourself in front of someone. I have shit myself a few times. It sucks. It just ends everything. Done. Any plans you may have had that day are instantly ruined, along with your undergarments and then your socks and if your socks aren't enough then there goes the shirt.
You would never have to use it twice.
It would also be of one benefit to the human race as well. I could travel around to old age homes and hospitals and be a hero to those suffering from the brutality of constipation. I don't really think that this particular skill would be useful in any other heroic capacity, not that making some backed up old goat furiously blast ass is all that heroic in the first place. Let's just say you won't be stopping robberies or rescuing damsels in distress with your magic shit finger. You make a man with a gun shit himself, he is just going to get super angry and shoot the dick who made him paint the inside of his pantaloons. I believe it is inherently a villainous power to possess and would be used accordingly.
I would also be able to control the consistency of said dookie. From massive logs to a flood of diarrhea, the entire spectrum would be mine to wield. I would make a fortune gambling on football, anyone going to catch a touchdown or kick a field goal would be at my mercy. Not such a chip shot field goal when you are pushing out a titanic log.
The main drawback on having a power like this is that it would totally cut down on nose picking and fingering.
Honestly, I couldn't give a shit. It's not like any of this will ever happen. I can barely do regular everyday stuff without fucking it all up to hell. I would like basic powers. The power to pay my bills. The power make my kids listen. The power to get through one single day without feeling like I am going to lose my personal mountain of fuck it all shit on some poor asshole even though he may have it coming.
I would like one day where I don't have to fight with my own brain to function normally in the world. I don't know about anyone else, but sometimes it feels like I am in a battle for supremacy over myself. Either way though, I am totally going to fucking win.
Hellwagon.
Imagine listening to someone think about what they watched on television last night, what a fantastic thing that would be to know what your neighbors innermost thoughts and feelings are about Dancing with Who The Fuck Even Cares About Dancing or America's Got Genital Canker Sores. Wouldn't it be awful to find out that the person you think is completely stupid is thinking the same thing about your completely stupid ass. How stupid would you feel then Mr. Mindreader, you stupid grit eating greasy fuckhole.
Ahem. Anywho, flying just doesn't seem that awesome to me either, I mean big shittin' Wow, I was down there and now I'm up here. It's the same as walking only you're going up and you're lazier. You might as well get a hard-on over an elevator. I know flying would be great because you wouldn't have to put up with morons in other cars, but I have another power in mind that would solve that very problem...
1. I Can Throw Anything Into Outer Space
I don't want super strength in any other situation, only when I want to throw something into space.
Traffic problem. Not a problem. I just get out of my shitty car and throw your car at the goddamn sun. Dog next door won't stop barking at the moon in the middle of the night. Well then, I'd say your next stop is the moon you mongrel bitch. I think this would just come in handy in all types of situations. I could just throw my garbage into outer space, which would have really come in handy all those years ago when I was arrested for littering. Well, littering and telling the cop who was writing the ticket to go fuck himself.
There have just been so many times when I have been trapped in a conversation with some random enema bag and had no means of escape. It would be so nice if I could just grab their arm and leg and go all human discus with them and send them careening and screaming into the stratosphere, like a poorly dressed helicopter shooting diarrhea missiles through the clouds.
Imagine walking into the middle of a neighborhood basketball game. You grab the ball and just heave it into space and walk away. If anyone gets all mad and wants to do anything about it, send them right into space after the ball if they like balls so damn much. Your kids are fighting over a toy and no matter what you say they just won't stop, well it's God's toy now.
Although with the way the world is today I would probably be protested by some tree fingering environmentalist ball biters because I would be polluting space somehow. Like space really gives a fuck.
2. Make Any Two People Hug Each Other As Long As I Want
I came up with this one just the other day because of the President saying he supports gay marriage. Let me just preface this with the fact that I could give a flying shit about the President personally, black or white or whatever, if you are a politician of any kind that makes you an automatic asshole. It comes with the territory. Just like being a security guard makes you a dick, life just works out that way.
I find it hilarious that this is even an issue. Who gives a fuck if gay people want to marry each other? Who gives a fuck if people are gay? Who gives a fuck about people!?!! It's not like gay people are trying to make you gay or anyone else gay, they just want to be gay. Those people that say marriage can only be a sacred bond between a man and a woman are total fags. If gay people get married how does that even affect you at all. It doesn't. If gay marriage offends your delicate sensibilities, then I am going to make you bear hug random gay people constantly for years on end and all your narrow minded hick friends can call you names and treat you like utter shit until you get some goddamn perspective.
I will never get it. It's not like gay married couples will all of a sudden start fucking in front of you or rape you, if that happened you would just call the damn cops. You would do the same thing if a straight couple started fisting each other in the supermarket parking lot. And if your kid is going to be gay, they are going to be gay. No outside influence is going go make that happen.
If I made you hug a gay dude for a month, is that going to make you gay? If it does, you were gay in the first place.
3. Whoever I Point At Shits All Over Themselves
I cannot think of a situation where this would not be awesome. You would be the ultimate force in the universe. No one would ever cross you or have a bad thing to say. As soon as word got out that you had this magnificent power you would never pay for a drink again. You would win at everything. Anything you ever wanted would be handed to you out of fear. There is nothing more degrading and humiliating than shitting yourself in front of someone. I have shit myself a few times. It sucks. It just ends everything. Done. Any plans you may have had that day are instantly ruined, along with your undergarments and then your socks and if your socks aren't enough then there goes the shirt.
You would never have to use it twice.
It would also be of one benefit to the human race as well. I could travel around to old age homes and hospitals and be a hero to those suffering from the brutality of constipation. I don't really think that this particular skill would be useful in any other heroic capacity, not that making some backed up old goat furiously blast ass is all that heroic in the first place. Let's just say you won't be stopping robberies or rescuing damsels in distress with your magic shit finger. You make a man with a gun shit himself, he is just going to get super angry and shoot the dick who made him paint the inside of his pantaloons. I believe it is inherently a villainous power to possess and would be used accordingly.
I would also be able to control the consistency of said dookie. From massive logs to a flood of diarrhea, the entire spectrum would be mine to wield. I would make a fortune gambling on football, anyone going to catch a touchdown or kick a field goal would be at my mercy. Not such a chip shot field goal when you are pushing out a titanic log.
The main drawback on having a power like this is that it would totally cut down on nose picking and fingering.
Honestly, I couldn't give a shit. It's not like any of this will ever happen. I can barely do regular everyday stuff without fucking it all up to hell. I would like basic powers. The power to pay my bills. The power make my kids listen. The power to get through one single day without feeling like I am going to lose my personal mountain of fuck it all shit on some poor asshole even though he may have it coming.
I would like one day where I don't have to fight with my own brain to function normally in the world. I don't know about anyone else, but sometimes it feels like I am in a battle for supremacy over myself. Either way though, I am totally going to fucking win.
Hellwagon.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
ARE YOU THERE TAMPAX, IT'S ME HELLWAGON
If you really stop and think about it, being called a fat whore should be considered a compliment. If you are a big ol' fat whore, that means you have overcome your obvious physical deficiencies and managed to have multiple sexual partners in a short period of time. Seriously, I imagine it's really fucking easy to be a fat virgin. It comes with the territory. Especially for dudes. If cops were picking up virgins by profiling, they would be pulling over fat sweaty white dudes with Transformers stickers on their cars all day long. So really, dudes can never be fat whores because no one wants to fuck them.
So ladies, the next time someone calls you a fat whore, just smile and say thanks.
If you haven't realized it by now, you are certainly in the wrong goddamn place if you are sensitive and easily offended and your breath smells like your grandma's ballbag.
I don't go around calling people fat whores, I am not some kind of monster. I don't call people anything. I try to avoid conversing with people as much as possible. Of course, given the horribly stupid things that I think to talk about who in their right mind would want to have a conversation with someone who thinks being called a fat whore is a compliment. Certainly not any fat whores.
No one ever says what they are truly thinking, that is why we spend our entire lives talking to ourselves. It's the only place where we can be honest about everything without the judgment of society. Who we are in the world and who we are in our heads will always be two different things. People will say horrible things about you just to make themselves feel better than you, you just can't give a shit. If you are reading this, and you happen to be a fat whore, are you really going to let me bother you. If you do, then you are so weak.
You are what you are. You just have to fucking own it.
I have been insulted more than your mother the fat necked slut. You name it, I've heard it. Who gives a shit. If you let what other people say fuck with your self-esteem, then you are truly fucking stupid. The operative word in self-esteem is self.
Jesus Hillbilly Christ when did this turn into an afterschool special. I feel like that fat mustachioed cunt Dr. Phil trying to convince some haggard brokedown dentist hating slag whore that her life is worth living. Man, I think I made myself want to kill myself just now. I hurt myself with emotions. All I wanted to figure out is if fat whore was a compliment and then it turns into this tampax commercial type journey with feelings and insight and me telling people to just 'be yourself' like I'm their white jeans wearing gay mom. This whole ordeal has give me that not so fresh feeling.
No wonder people used to call me fag. Well, those people now spend their evenings sniffing their mom's crusty dildo.
I am a forty year old man trying to justify calling someone a fat whore and I find that to be awesome. What else am I going to do, feed poor people and save the environment and recycle and cure shitty diseases?
I have no choice but to bear the burden of my indifference.
Hellwagon.
So ladies, the next time someone calls you a fat whore, just smile and say thanks.
If you haven't realized it by now, you are certainly in the wrong goddamn place if you are sensitive and easily offended and your breath smells like your grandma's ballbag.
I don't go around calling people fat whores, I am not some kind of monster. I don't call people anything. I try to avoid conversing with people as much as possible. Of course, given the horribly stupid things that I think to talk about who in their right mind would want to have a conversation with someone who thinks being called a fat whore is a compliment. Certainly not any fat whores.
No one ever says what they are truly thinking, that is why we spend our entire lives talking to ourselves. It's the only place where we can be honest about everything without the judgment of society. Who we are in the world and who we are in our heads will always be two different things. People will say horrible things about you just to make themselves feel better than you, you just can't give a shit. If you are reading this, and you happen to be a fat whore, are you really going to let me bother you. If you do, then you are so weak.
You are what you are. You just have to fucking own it.
I have been insulted more than your mother the fat necked slut. You name it, I've heard it. Who gives a shit. If you let what other people say fuck with your self-esteem, then you are truly fucking stupid. The operative word in self-esteem is self.
Jesus Hillbilly Christ when did this turn into an afterschool special. I feel like that fat mustachioed cunt Dr. Phil trying to convince some haggard brokedown dentist hating slag whore that her life is worth living. Man, I think I made myself want to kill myself just now. I hurt myself with emotions. All I wanted to figure out is if fat whore was a compliment and then it turns into this tampax commercial type journey with feelings and insight and me telling people to just 'be yourself' like I'm their white jeans wearing gay mom. This whole ordeal has give me that not so fresh feeling.
No wonder people used to call me fag. Well, those people now spend their evenings sniffing their mom's crusty dildo.
I am a forty year old man trying to justify calling someone a fat whore and I find that to be awesome. What else am I going to do, feed poor people and save the environment and recycle and cure shitty diseases?
I have no choice but to bear the burden of my indifference.
Hellwagon.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
GIRAFFAGINAS CAN TAKE A BEATING, BUT NOT FROM ME
A lot of people make bucket lists of stupid things to do before they stop annoying me and die already. Everyone always wants to do the same kind of shit. Jump out of planes, tie a rubber band around their ankles and jump off a bridge, climb some crazy fuck all mountain like a dick, who cares. Doing those things makes you dull and unimaginative. You want to go see some touristy crap that everyone else sees on their damn vacations, go ahead, just don't act all deep and spiritual about it. You can give any activity depth and meaning if you associate it with your own death.
Say you want to eat a bean burrito while you take a shit before you die. Well, while you are eating that burrito and your turd army storms the gate you are really going to attach a lot of sentiment to that moment. You may even cry a little. I would too, because that sounds about as sad as anything I can think of you fat bastard, who would do that honestly. You can make anything important to yourself because you are the only one who cares. You know why it means something to you even if no one else does.
I mean, who wants to go to The Great Wall of China? Really? Seriously, it is just a wall. It's a really big wall, I'll give you that, but really all you have to do is look at a wall and imagine it being a lot longer and less depressing.
I have been thinking about my own list, not that I plan on dying, I am too much of a self important prick to go and do something as lame as dying. Here are some ideas:
1. Fist Fight a Wild Animal
I have always wanted to fight a bear, but now I am leaning more towards a stupid giraffe. My wife doesn't think I can beat up a giraffe because she thinks they would kick the hell out of me. I picture coming at it head on and then slipping between its front legs and punching it in the dick. I wouldn't fight a lady giraffe because I am a gentleman, also because I wouldn't want to lose my arm in a giraffagina. Anyway, after a punch to the junk it would collapse and then I could choke the shit out of it. I mean, look at that neck, I could choke it with my arms and legs. A giraffe is the Mount Everest of strangulation.
Hellwagon 1, Giraffe 0.
I saw a bear once when I lived in the Rocky Mountains and I thought 'this is my chance', but then another bear came out of the dumpster like a dick and I knew it was an ambush. Those bears were chickenshit, but I remembered the old saying, 'a bear does not fight fair, and he don't care if he makes you shit your underwears.'
Let me just say that I love animals, more than people in most respects. Hunters are not really hunters at all, so don't you dare call yourself a hunter you dickpipe. If you can't go out there and kill that animal with your bare hands then don't call yourself a hunter. You should have to chase it down and beat it to death if you want to eat it, and you would feel way more awesome about yourself if you did that. That's a fucking story. Not, 'I sat in one spot with a gun like a complete tampon and waited to shoot something'. It's not that hard if you are the only one out there with a weapon. If you are in a gunfight with a person and you are the only one with a gun then that just makes you an asshole.
2. Kick a Bumblebee into Someone's Mouth
Anyone who knows me has heard me say this at one time or another. I know its ridiculous, but so is life and I know it is going to be fucking hilarious.
In the summertime, people I work with will stand at a distance if a bee comes around. Not because they are scared of the bee, but they know my intent by now. I just think it would be awesome if someone was mid sentence and I snap kick a bee into their stupid mouth. I would even take a bank shot off the teeth, at least my aim would have been good. At this point, I haven't even hit anyone in the face, just sailed a few bees by some ears and had to listen to people say things like 'what the fuck is wrong with you' and 'you know that was a fucking bee, right'. Lame. However, it is a hard thing to practice, so cut me a break. I will get there someday and laugh like hell as I run away from you. You are going to be so pissed when you eat that bee. I am thinking I should yell something when I finally do it. Maybe scream GOOOOAAAALLLLLL!!!! and tear my shirt off like Hulkamania was running wild on me.
I know I am taking a risk if someone is allergic. But you don't achieve greatness without taking some chances.
3. Beat the Ever Loving Shit out of a Famous Actor
Because I should. They make fortunes pretending to be someone else, big deal. You know what regular dudes usually call people who make shit up for a living. Liars. They are really just a bunch of fantastic liars getting paid to play dress up. Don't get me wrong, I like movies, who doesn't. I am not one of those massive twats who doesn't own a television and spends all their time braiding their musty pubes, wearing winter hats when its not winter. Those people are complete dickpoles. I just think that we have come to a point that people are now universally ranked by how famous they are. That breeds an unfounded ego. Someone needs to take them down a notch. I am thinking Christian Bale, he seems like quite the elitist peckerhead who really thinks he is an important artist.
You are just playing house asshole, albeit in Batman's house, but it's still just playing house. The rest of us just don't happen to be so good at pretending. We live in the real world fuckface, we got bills and shit and we don't have people paying us to use our imagination. Go cut some fucking grass, dig a ditch, have some pimple faced power mad teenage dickbag tell you that you are running behind on the drive through. Get some fucking perspective. They get awards for being the best at pretend. Pretend. You should want to punch them as well.
That is all I have for today. I will continue this list at another time I suppose. I damn sure want to do more than three things before I die. I am sure that there are the typical things on my list that you would want to do as well, everyone should have 'Do an insane amount of totally awesome fucking' on their list. I want to see my kids grow up and to be happy and heathly, shit that any normal person would want. I am not sure how well adjusted they will be after they see me fuck up a giraffe, but I am hoping they will be impressed and say I am their hero.
Hellwagon.
Say you want to eat a bean burrito while you take a shit before you die. Well, while you are eating that burrito and your turd army storms the gate you are really going to attach a lot of sentiment to that moment. You may even cry a little. I would too, because that sounds about as sad as anything I can think of you fat bastard, who would do that honestly. You can make anything important to yourself because you are the only one who cares. You know why it means something to you even if no one else does.
I mean, who wants to go to The Great Wall of China? Really? Seriously, it is just a wall. It's a really big wall, I'll give you that, but really all you have to do is look at a wall and imagine it being a lot longer and less depressing.
I have been thinking about my own list, not that I plan on dying, I am too much of a self important prick to go and do something as lame as dying. Here are some ideas:
1. Fist Fight a Wild Animal
I have always wanted to fight a bear, but now I am leaning more towards a stupid giraffe. My wife doesn't think I can beat up a giraffe because she thinks they would kick the hell out of me. I picture coming at it head on and then slipping between its front legs and punching it in the dick. I wouldn't fight a lady giraffe because I am a gentleman, also because I wouldn't want to lose my arm in a giraffagina. Anyway, after a punch to the junk it would collapse and then I could choke the shit out of it. I mean, look at that neck, I could choke it with my arms and legs. A giraffe is the Mount Everest of strangulation.
Hellwagon 1, Giraffe 0.
I saw a bear once when I lived in the Rocky Mountains and I thought 'this is my chance', but then another bear came out of the dumpster like a dick and I knew it was an ambush. Those bears were chickenshit, but I remembered the old saying, 'a bear does not fight fair, and he don't care if he makes you shit your underwears.'
Let me just say that I love animals, more than people in most respects. Hunters are not really hunters at all, so don't you dare call yourself a hunter you dickpipe. If you can't go out there and kill that animal with your bare hands then don't call yourself a hunter. You should have to chase it down and beat it to death if you want to eat it, and you would feel way more awesome about yourself if you did that. That's a fucking story. Not, 'I sat in one spot with a gun like a complete tampon and waited to shoot something'. It's not that hard if you are the only one out there with a weapon. If you are in a gunfight with a person and you are the only one with a gun then that just makes you an asshole.
2. Kick a Bumblebee into Someone's Mouth
Anyone who knows me has heard me say this at one time or another. I know its ridiculous, but so is life and I know it is going to be fucking hilarious.
In the summertime, people I work with will stand at a distance if a bee comes around. Not because they are scared of the bee, but they know my intent by now. I just think it would be awesome if someone was mid sentence and I snap kick a bee into their stupid mouth. I would even take a bank shot off the teeth, at least my aim would have been good. At this point, I haven't even hit anyone in the face, just sailed a few bees by some ears and had to listen to people say things like 'what the fuck is wrong with you' and 'you know that was a fucking bee, right'. Lame. However, it is a hard thing to practice, so cut me a break. I will get there someday and laugh like hell as I run away from you. You are going to be so pissed when you eat that bee. I am thinking I should yell something when I finally do it. Maybe scream GOOOOAAAALLLLLL!!!! and tear my shirt off like Hulkamania was running wild on me.
I know I am taking a risk if someone is allergic. But you don't achieve greatness without taking some chances.
3. Beat the Ever Loving Shit out of a Famous Actor
Because I should. They make fortunes pretending to be someone else, big deal. You know what regular dudes usually call people who make shit up for a living. Liars. They are really just a bunch of fantastic liars getting paid to play dress up. Don't get me wrong, I like movies, who doesn't. I am not one of those massive twats who doesn't own a television and spends all their time braiding their musty pubes, wearing winter hats when its not winter. Those people are complete dickpoles. I just think that we have come to a point that people are now universally ranked by how famous they are. That breeds an unfounded ego. Someone needs to take them down a notch. I am thinking Christian Bale, he seems like quite the elitist peckerhead who really thinks he is an important artist.
You are just playing house asshole, albeit in Batman's house, but it's still just playing house. The rest of us just don't happen to be so good at pretending. We live in the real world fuckface, we got bills and shit and we don't have people paying us to use our imagination. Go cut some fucking grass, dig a ditch, have some pimple faced power mad teenage dickbag tell you that you are running behind on the drive through. Get some fucking perspective. They get awards for being the best at pretend. Pretend. You should want to punch them as well.
That is all I have for today. I will continue this list at another time I suppose. I damn sure want to do more than three things before I die. I am sure that there are the typical things on my list that you would want to do as well, everyone should have 'Do an insane amount of totally awesome fucking' on their list. I want to see my kids grow up and to be happy and heathly, shit that any normal person would want. I am not sure how well adjusted they will be after they see me fuck up a giraffe, but I am hoping they will be impressed and say I am their hero.
Hellwagon.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
SIBERIAN VENERAL DISEASE NINJA SQUAD RAPES MY AUNT PHYLLIS
Once upon a time a man loved felonies and drugs and whoring around and getting into drunken brawls for no goddamn reason other than why the hell not. He got arrested a few times, hospitalized a few times, he got brutally gang raped by Siberian mercenary ninja warlords a few times. Good times.
Now, I am a husband and father, which is incredibly better times, much safer times, times with no fear of waking up half drunk and stoned on a barren wintry roadside with a mouthful of broken teeth and chlamydia.
Chlamydia sounds like a hell of a good name for a Siberian ninja. His heart is as cold as the Siberian wasteland, but his cock is all oozy and dangerous and burning like he just terror raped Satan. Probably a bad description on my part as I imagine all rape is rife with all manner of terror. There has never been a gentle rapist to my knowledge. It is not possible to make sweet, sweet rape to someone. If you do happen to be smooth enough to be a gentle rapist, odds are you could probably get a woman to go with you willingly to the boudoir.
You can't go all Billy Dee Williams at raping.
The more I think about it, Chlamydia doesn't sound like a silent ninja killer. Syphilis sounds like a silent ninja killer. It just has that sneaky sexy sound, must be those S sounds on the front and back. I guess it's settled, Syphilis is the undisputed king ninja of veneral disease. Chlamydia can still be on the super Siberian ninja squad, but has been demoted to using only throwing stars and dribbling pus out its junkhole as far as I am concerned. Syphilis gets the sai. Herpes gets the katana. Logistically speaking, Crabs would get the grappling hook. Those Siberian Mustache Crabs are the scourge of the hinterlands.
If I had an Aunt Phyllis, I would be tempted to call her Aunt Syphilis, but I would probably just end up calling her a giant goat anus because people named Phyllis are usually uptight clits who would never understand anything about the poor raping skills of Billy Dee Williams. Aunt Phyllis just wouldn't understand why Lando gets tons of intergalactic tang on the regular.
No one is raping my Aunt Phyllis. Who would want to with that narrow minded attitude.
Yes, its pretty much going to be like this. There is someone else behind this wheel. I guess I just need to be able to say shit like this and not have to see the mortified look on your face.
Let me just go on the record as saying I am anti-rape and pro Billy Dee Williams. Billy Dee Williams is the goddamn shit. And the only way rapists should be able to travel the earth is by dragging their grubby ballbags and assholes along the ground like a dog with worms and those worms have aids, and everywhere they drug their mangled undercarriage the ground would be covered with gravel backed alligators and crazed crack addled snapping turtles swimming in a river of lava and boiling hot sauce. And no dicks. They get no dicks. Balls are left for the populace to pummel mercilessly at their leisure.
As I was saying, I was once an emotionally crippled self destructive narcissistic asshole who hates you. Now I am not. Externally anyway. I love being a Dad, a husband, working a mundane job that drills me daily into submission. Like a child, I need structure to keep me in line. If history has taught me anything it is that left to my own devices I will surely destroy myself. But not in a depressing way. In a fun way. A guy you would laugh at when they described how moronically I died on the evening news. I would be the lamest cautionary tale, because you should already know fucking better.
So now, I smile politely at random people and help frail old ladies at the supermarket who need the hemorrhoid cream off of the top shelf. I don't want to, but I do it. The pressue of society makes me do it. I don't feel better about myself for doing things like that. Letting people pull out in front of me in traffic, cut in line at the store if they have fewer items, holding the goddamn door open. Did they have a lot of doors in Jesus' day, I imagine there were a lot more flaps than doors. It would be much more annoying to hold open a dirty flap, just ask anyone who had to hold open my Aunt Phyllis' raggedy cuntflaps.
I am not sure if that counts for anything at all. Is it beneficial to my immortal soul to do something nice just because it would be inappropriate to tell a short old lady with a sore asshole to fuck right off?
I don't think it counts for much. I am a reluctant samaritan with even the slightest of kind gestures. I think most people are like that, they don't want to be bothered but will pretend they are so happy to help. Maybe I should just grab the item off the shelf, hand it to the old bag and tell her to shove it up her dusty dirthole.
Of course, if it does happen to be anal ointment, that will avail me nothing. Telling her that would just be sound advice.
Hellwagon.
Ninja's are friendly, they say hi-ya!!!
Now, I am a husband and father, which is incredibly better times, much safer times, times with no fear of waking up half drunk and stoned on a barren wintry roadside with a mouthful of broken teeth and chlamydia.
Chlamydia sounds like a hell of a good name for a Siberian ninja. His heart is as cold as the Siberian wasteland, but his cock is all oozy and dangerous and burning like he just terror raped Satan. Probably a bad description on my part as I imagine all rape is rife with all manner of terror. There has never been a gentle rapist to my knowledge. It is not possible to make sweet, sweet rape to someone. If you do happen to be smooth enough to be a gentle rapist, odds are you could probably get a woman to go with you willingly to the boudoir.
You can't go all Billy Dee Williams at raping.
The more I think about it, Chlamydia doesn't sound like a silent ninja killer. Syphilis sounds like a silent ninja killer. It just has that sneaky sexy sound, must be those S sounds on the front and back. I guess it's settled, Syphilis is the undisputed king ninja of veneral disease. Chlamydia can still be on the super Siberian ninja squad, but has been demoted to using only throwing stars and dribbling pus out its junkhole as far as I am concerned. Syphilis gets the sai. Herpes gets the katana. Logistically speaking, Crabs would get the grappling hook. Those Siberian Mustache Crabs are the scourge of the hinterlands.
If I had an Aunt Phyllis, I would be tempted to call her Aunt Syphilis, but I would probably just end up calling her a giant goat anus because people named Phyllis are usually uptight clits who would never understand anything about the poor raping skills of Billy Dee Williams. Aunt Phyllis just wouldn't understand why Lando gets tons of intergalactic tang on the regular.
No one is raping my Aunt Phyllis. Who would want to with that narrow minded attitude.
Yes, its pretty much going to be like this. There is someone else behind this wheel. I guess I just need to be able to say shit like this and not have to see the mortified look on your face.
Let me just go on the record as saying I am anti-rape and pro Billy Dee Williams. Billy Dee Williams is the goddamn shit. And the only way rapists should be able to travel the earth is by dragging their grubby ballbags and assholes along the ground like a dog with worms and those worms have aids, and everywhere they drug their mangled undercarriage the ground would be covered with gravel backed alligators and crazed crack addled snapping turtles swimming in a river of lava and boiling hot sauce. And no dicks. They get no dicks. Balls are left for the populace to pummel mercilessly at their leisure.
As I was saying, I was once an emotionally crippled self destructive narcissistic asshole who hates you. Now I am not. Externally anyway. I love being a Dad, a husband, working a mundane job that drills me daily into submission. Like a child, I need structure to keep me in line. If history has taught me anything it is that left to my own devices I will surely destroy myself. But not in a depressing way. In a fun way. A guy you would laugh at when they described how moronically I died on the evening news. I would be the lamest cautionary tale, because you should already know fucking better.
So now, I smile politely at random people and help frail old ladies at the supermarket who need the hemorrhoid cream off of the top shelf. I don't want to, but I do it. The pressue of society makes me do it. I don't feel better about myself for doing things like that. Letting people pull out in front of me in traffic, cut in line at the store if they have fewer items, holding the goddamn door open. Did they have a lot of doors in Jesus' day, I imagine there were a lot more flaps than doors. It would be much more annoying to hold open a dirty flap, just ask anyone who had to hold open my Aunt Phyllis' raggedy cuntflaps.
I am not sure if that counts for anything at all. Is it beneficial to my immortal soul to do something nice just because it would be inappropriate to tell a short old lady with a sore asshole to fuck right off?
I don't think it counts for much. I am a reluctant samaritan with even the slightest of kind gestures. I think most people are like that, they don't want to be bothered but will pretend they are so happy to help. Maybe I should just grab the item off the shelf, hand it to the old bag and tell her to shove it up her dusty dirthole.
Of course, if it does happen to be anal ointment, that will avail me nothing. Telling her that would just be sound advice.
Hellwagon.
Ninja's are friendly, they say hi-ya!!!
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