January 28, 2011


When I got sick after I got back from my trip I was freaked out because being sick is not ssssick. After a couple days of staying home, drinking liquids and playing Ouija Board by myself to try discover new swear words (you bloot) I decided it was time to check in with my doctor friend, my doctor. He was all like "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you feel bad, there's no drug for shitting and having the flu", but he gave me a note that allowed me to cop some antibiotics just in case.

Well guy, I still felt like a wall of slaves on Monday and keeping with my family's motto of "By Any Means Necessary" I started taking antibiotics, even though the good bacteria in my body was screaming in my ear, "We have activities planned this week!". I don't like modifying my body as much as I don't like modifying people's perceptions of the Smokey and the Bandit series (it is what it is), and the side effects of 'shitty taste in mouth' and 'greater risk of watery d's' aren't my cup of rum, but I ate them anyway.

The Point?

This was all leading to something about me never getting Bacterial Vaginosis, but that's obvious considering I have one of the most talked-about dongs in North America due to its perfect symmetry. If you plug my the dimensions of my hose into the Pythagorean Theorum you end up with a picture of the Eiffel Tower.

What's happenin' in Egypt? If I lived in the country that invented paper, big pyramids and the concept of "babes", I'd be smiling more than the Cheshire Cat at Christmastime. Of course, the Cheshire Cat would be considered a God if he lived in Egypt, which probably means that cat sales and evening pettings are skyrocketing as we speak. I don't think the country is in big time trouble until we see herds of dogs chasing all the cats into the Nile. If I name my next kitty "God" will you be made at me? I once had a Nine Inch Nails shirt that said "closer to god" on the back and part of me was worried that if I wore it to school I'd get in trouble, as if "god" was a swear word. I'm naming my next t-shirt "closer to shit". I would've had a case had that been the case.

Dear Egyptians,

Clam down. I meant "calm". But you might also want to clam down. I'm pretty sure the Mediterranean (that big old salty bitch at your northern tip) has a bounty of fresh seafood, and I know that when me and my dad get into it, nothing calms us more than a clam down. Take your biggest pot, filled it with clams, potatoes (you guys have potatoes? Don't use figs), corn, garlic, white wine and maybe a splash of water and hot sauce, and just boil away while you watch the sun and talk about sports you might want to start ignoring. I'm no expert on the Red Sea (that skinny bean to your right), but it's probably good for something considering your cat gods decided to start your country on its bright pink shores. Surely there's some fish worthy of a cookout in there somewhere.


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