Deep Thoughts

The best part of writing this journal is coming up the titles for the entries. It is by far the most rewarding part of this whole ordeal. That little title torments me and every time I log on they all stare at me. They mock me with their unforgiving eyes. The fact that I am happy with 80% of them enables me with luxury of peace; it helps me sleep at night.


Fingernails are not gross unless they are cut. Cut fingernails are one notch below human feces on the disgusting level. Pre-cut, fingernails and I are good friends, I have sucked on many womanly fingers, but post-cut, oh post-cut, free range, rogue, nail clipping make me cringe with nausea. Sometime during the clipping process fingernails mutate into this amorphous substance that rivals Paris Hilton on the Puke List. The Puke List is a list of items that when come into my vicinty evoke particulate matter to erupt from my stomach, out of my mouth, and onto the floor. A rampant vomiting episode.


At my place of employment there is a box marked Lost & Found. I have never lost anything in the box but I have found some things. Do not judge me, but if you do judge me, let me first point you towards exhibit A, my Rolex, yes Rolex bitches.


I have also “found” things at Lost & Found boxes across the nation. I am a new age gold miner. A 49er of the future. Jealous? I thought so.


Two weeks ago a girl friend of mine spent the night. No sex, just friends. The next morning I was getting out of the shower and I asked her to salt my porch so neither of us would slip on our way out. I was sitting in my bedroom and I noticed her venture into my kitchen and walk back towards my front door with table salt. No lie, the Dumb Skeet salted my porch with table salt. Wow, dumb, I know, but that isn’t the most bothersome part of this tale. The strange ending to this story is that I found her more attractive after her little incident. What does this say about me? Maybe I was just horny, no that can’t be the solution; I’m always horny. Hell the only reason I’m not jackin it right now is because I can’t type complete sentences while I watch porn.


No matter how cold it is outside if a great song is being played in my Bentley I am rolling the windows down. Especially if Lupe Fiasco is on, play on playa.


A telemarketer called me today; so I put the phone on speaker and walked away. I actually left the room to poop, but once I came back the “salesman” was still on the phone. This devotion and stamina impressed to such a degree that I bought the set of knives he was selling. Yes, I am that easy. I can't wait to cut through a boot, or a pop can with my new knives.