That's Not Gonna Work

Hey, kids! So I’ve got a few things to say.

First off, what’s the deal with all the news programs doing exposes on the "cheating epidemic?" Just because a couple of politicians (AHEM* sleazebags, kinda redundant, I know), doesn’t mean everybody is. That’s not to say that there aren’t various fucktards who can’t be monogomous to save their souls (what souls?!). There are. There always have been. Many a douchebag have gotten greedy and fucked around on some unsuspecting somebody (male or female) with some other somebody (male or female). That shit happens. But without those cocknozzles (t.m.), good guys like me (Awww...) wouldn’t stand out like the sore thumbs we are (and kinda look like, I had to go there). So hooray for me, I guess. But if getting cheated on makes a girl hyper-suspicious of me, that kinda blows. I guess there’s a trade-off. Moral of the story: Keep it in ya pants, Safety Dance. I apologize for that. But seriously, you rhyme something else with pants!

Secondly, Fancy Feast cat food has come out with a line of gourmet inspired meals. Now, they do realize that they’re making gourmet foods for animals that lick themselves ritually. My idea would be to have a line of food that tastes like cat’s body parts. You know, leg, paw-flavored, or genital flavored (opposite your cat’s, if they’re lonely, or the their own). It’s my idea. Screw you.

Can I just say that I love The Moment Of Truth? I can, and I did.

Amanda has just informed me that there are now, on the planet Earth, in the United States of America: Pillow-Fighting leagues. That’s right. You score points based on technique. Now first off, pillow fights used be sexy. Thanks for killing that. I mean, you score points in basketball, and it’s decidedly unsexy. Second of all, if you can’t get seriously injured, it’s not a sport. What’s the worst that could happen? A feather sneaks out and pokes you in the eye. Well, actually, that sounds pretty cool. But still, this is retarded (and not in an Oscar-nominatedRain Man, I Am Sam, Forrest Gump, or Sling Blade sorta way).

So, the reality show I worked on premiered 2 weeks ago, and guess whose name’s not in the credits? It’s me! Seriously, that fucking blows your dead great-uncle Louis. I woke up at 3am for that. Fucknuts. I may be on next weeks episode though so check it out if you’re not busy getting laid (’cause nothing should interfere with that). Sunday 9pm TLC. That’s all the plug that they get.

That’s what I’ve got for now. Peace, youse guys. :-P Pbbbbbbbbth!!!