I realised today how much I let all you guys down with that last blog. Yeah, all two of you messageboard squares. You fatheads.
I’m not a sissy motherfucker as I’ve previously suggested; I don’t talk about how it’s important to stay friends with people and keep everyone in good company.
Fuck. No. I’m obnoxious and loud. Nonchalant and proud.
I shotgun beers with my teeth. I launch pizza down my neck.
I’m a better, more awkward, wasted Larry David. I’m a Mr. Bean that can speak English.
I’m a renegade. A fucking maverick.
And yet… I fall short of everything I wish I was.
I’ve always thought it’s weird when a guy goes into a public toilet and chooses the trap instead of the urinal that’s open and free to use. Is it ‘cos he doesn’t want to give any of the other guys at the urinals a chance to take a sneaky peek at his member? Or maybe ‘cos he’s really bad at aim? I don’t even know.
But why go to the trap when there you have to clean up after yourself and have the extra effort of opening/closing the door behind you. Effort, man. It stinks.
Once, when I was at school, I was taking my daily dump at a toilet I knew was safe from kids coming in and throwing wet-balls of loo roll over the top of the door. A guy started knocking at the door. I politely told him to go fuck himself.
Unfortunately for me, the lock on that particular door was a bit shaky. So when he kicked into it a couple times, it opened for him pretty nicely.
The door swung open and I tried my best effort to open my hand and put it over my package to create a screen over what dignity I had left.
Next thing I knew, everyone had heard that a guy had walked on in me bashing one out in the toilets. Having a quiet one with Madame Palm and her five sisters. Great, just great.
I mean, if the guy had caught me fair and square shaking off the cardinal, then that’s cool, I would understand. Fuck, I would even appreciate it.
But somewhere out there, there’s a pretty girl who thinks that some weirdo at her school once had a wank during school hours. Smooth.
Listen to The Underground Railroad To Candyland. Your life will change gear.
No photos today. The balls-out face of this post does not warrant such colour.
In a bit.
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