Por Que?

I just finished shaving at the office. This is the first time I have ever done it. I am really lazy with shaving because it irritates me and I'm lazy about everything in general. There is a big lunch event today and I was told I am to participate in it in a greater capacity than walking in every 10 minutes to take free food, so I had to make myself look presentable.

My question is, Why didn't anyone tell me it was Take a Dump at Work Day today? I swear right before I go in there no less than 3 people commit what I can only describe as a crime against nature in the bathroom, leaving me woozy from the fumes as I try not to butcher myself. Iran should be recruiting from my office. I failed to get out of there unscathed of course. I did a Sweeney Todd number on myself and am currently three-quarters of the way to mummification with all thepaper on my face holding back what little blood I have left.

Just thought I'd update everyone.

What the?

During my hiatus from this dump a few noteworthy happenings and doings transpired. I mean to go over them in great detail at some point for your viewing pleasure, but for now I will discuss something that affected me deeply. It was a life altering event and I won't ever be the same person again after experiencing it.

On an unseasonably warm day back in the month many people refer to as October, I exited my abode and set out for the local delicatessan to procure myself a pound of roast beef crammed between two pieces of Italian bread.

I squinted as the bright sun smothered my face, and I thought about how much I was enjoying Jocktober. I was calling it Jocktober because I decided that every day I would wake up and listen to a different Jock Jams CD. Seeing as how I had Volumes 1 through 7, I put myself on a weekly rotation. My theory was that this music would get me pumped up and energized, making myself a happier and more productive person who would be a beast on the raquetball courts.

Anyway, as Gary glittered in my head, the most amazing/bizarre thing ever came into view.

You are not seeing things, and I did not do this in photoshop. That is a giant Merman on the hood of someone's car. I know it looks like a topless Mermaid, but trust me, those are just very shapely pecs. It is very sparkly, very big and probably the gayest thing I have ever seen.

I apologize for the less than stellar photo, but my mind was reelign from the sheer wonder of this discovery and alsothe fear that the owner of the car would catch me taking pictures and beat me sensless with a bag of pixie dust. They'd have to be mental. And gay, and probably a keebler elf. Part of me wishes I staked out the area to see who would show up to drive off in this masterpiece because you don't often get a chance to see a unicorn drive.

I manage to slowly begin to walk away from the hood. There was a leopard print line running along the side doors of the car to the back.

The back didn't disappoint either.

Not only is that an american flag on the trunk, it is an American flag made entirely out of painted seashells glued on to the car!!! Fucking staggering.


I'm just now realizing I can see the license plate number in this picture. My uncle is a cop. I'm going to have him run the plates on this bastard and find out who owns it. I am worried they might arrest the guy and charge him with several counts of Criminal Bad Taste or Indecent Exposure of an Androgenous Mystical Creature. An IEAMC can get you 7 years.

Yugenius

Yesterday my dear friend THE HOR, was kind enough to propose another travel destination for me and invited me to join her in the ghetto.

She paints a picture of a magical realm populated by colorful little folk (Mexicans) where danger lurks behind one corner and adventure peeks out from the next. While the idea of calling myself Frodo Trash Baggins and gathering a fellowship of diverse and gangsta friends to venture off with discover our destinies sounds beyond appealing, I am going to have to pass due to a strong allergic reaction I have to being knifed in the gut. Also, if I got mugged i would start to get homesick.

Can I take a rain check?

OK, story time.

The other day I mentioned having taken in a Japanese exchange student while in 8th grade. His name was Yuji Yabushita and he spoke maybe 3 words of English. Hungry, tired and bathroom. They are probably the three best words to know when you are in a foreign land, but it didn't exactly lead to us having a rich exchange of culture. It was difficult to get a sense of his personality because of the language barrier. However I did get a glimpse into the mind of Yuji during math class one day.

For 8th Grade math I had a teacher named Mrs. P. Her husband, Mr. P also taught math at the same school. They were one of those couples who weren't what you'd call attractive in any way, but they were cute together. Now before you go off wondering what nationality a last name like P is, I will tell you it was short for a long name I can't be bothered to remember.

Yuji was sitting at a desk with me to my right as Mrs. P was teaching us the wonders of algebra. I noticed he was jumping around in his Japanese to English dictionary with a sense of purpose. He would briskly flip forward or backwards through the pages and then jot something down on the top of his paper. He did this a few times it seemed. I wasn't paying all that much attention to it.

When he was apparently done, he tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the top of his loose leaf paper with this weird grin on his face. I figured he wanted to know if he could leave to go to the bathroom or if he had to pee in a bucket under the desk, you know, like they do all the time in Japan. Look it up. Wikipedia Japan. It's in the first 2 paragraphs I'm sure. So, I look over at what he wrote down and it said

"This teacher look like a gorilla."

Well I completely lost it. It had never occurred to me before that Mrs P looked like an ape, but she totally did. This revelation by Yuji, along with the little gorilla face he drew next to it, made me wish I was in japan because I laughed so hard I needed a piss bucket under the desk. I'm telling you it's true. Ask any Japanese person.

I'll wait.

My Nipples are Hard Already

I got nothin' today, but I need to make this a habit again. I'd like to mention that someone in my office brought in cookies his wife made and they are so good that I want to have an affair with her now.

If you read my previous post, then you know that I was looking for an exotic locale to bounce off to now that I have a passport. Over the weekend I researched some of my ideas and came up with a whole mess of bad news.

Italy is not an option for me due to an incident involving some inappropriate letters I may or may not have sent to Food Network personality Giada DeLaurentis. Had I known she possessed the power to ban me from Italy, I would have aimed my lust at Paula Dean.

I am choosing not to go to South Africa because I remembered that 20 years ago I said I ain't gonna play Sun City and I meant it.

Unfortunately I have to avoid Japan due to having a small but rabid cult following in the land of the rising sun as a result of a video of a 3rd grade play I starred in becoming a cultural phenomenon there. It was Peter Pan and I was Indian # 4. When it came time for me to speak my lines, I started to weep and then unfortunately urinated all over myself. In Japan this clip is used in a variety of commercials, including one for Joy Joy brand Seaweed cakes. "Yellow Boy pants cries when he doesn't have Joy Joy Seaweed cakes. Don't be like Yellow Boy Pants! JOY JOY!"

I thought I could handle the Galapagos, but even after over a decade of therapy I can't get past being viciously assaulted by a Giant Tortoise while at the Staten Island Zoo. The nightmares never end.

Most of the places with funny names don't have airports. I'd have to fly in to a neighboring country, then ride over the border on some kind of pack animal. My supple buttocks can not handle the rigors of a long journey on the back of an alpaca.

So there you have it. All these things combined with the fact that my vacation time starts in 9 days leaves me with really only one unfortunate option...

Oh Canada.

I know. I know. I like maple syrup though, and ummm maybe I'll get to see Rick Moranis. He was in Ghostbusters you know, and that was a great movie.

One time my aunt met Bill Murray on the street and he gave her noogies.

...