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Sunday, February 28, 2016

Spermatozoa, East of Java

I was in Highland Park the other day and I saw a car with one of those old Bad Boy stickers on the window. I mention HP because a sticker like that's still be a big deal over there with the older folks. If you've never seen the Bad Boy stickers before they show some little guy with a Dennis The Menace cowlick peeing on the floor with a sneer on his face (natch), Bad Boy mooning you, etc.

With all this FU sentiment coming out of Bad Boy I then found it rather odd that there was a car sticker showing Bad Boy on his knees intently praying to the Cross. Ah, what goes on here? What does this signify?

What exactly is Bad Boy doing here? I can only surmise it means one of two things, either: (A) If Bad Boy prays to Christ regularly then he thinks it exempts him from sin from giving us the finger and pissing on our lawn, which makes him a typical Republican, or (B) This little cunt is actually repenting for being an irritating sticker icon. What do you people think?

I had another one of my ghastly dreams last night. When I woke up in the middle of the night and went to the bathroom to do my business I opened the door, flipped on the light, and what looked like over fifty large cockroaches ran around in circles like madmen all over the floor.

Normally I would run and put my boots on, but time was of the essence so I simply took my stockinged feet and began stomping on these multi-legged vermin like an insane Italian stomping grapes for dry red wine. The roaches squirted open upon impact of my furious stomping, all lying dead and twitching their last few legs and clicking their antennae in entomological agony. After cleaning up the mess I went back to bed.

Two hours later I got up to go to the bathroom again, and once I flipped on the light I heard the hissing and coiling of two dozen snakes all over the floor. I grabbed a safety razor I only use on special dates and severed all of their heads, still spitting venom at me and missing wildly. That was a messy clean-up, but I went back to bed.

Three hours later I got up to go to the bathroom, hesitated opening up the door but duty calls, so I flipped on the light, and twenty one rats ran around the floor. I grabbed the biggest tote bag in the bathroom and threw it over them, tied the ends of the bag and threw it into the bath tub. I turned the hot water spigot all the way up and heard a lot of cute shrieking.

These boys very reluctantly drowned, but a few were still hanging in there, so I pulled the survivors out by their cute pink tails and threw them into the toilet, flushing them down. two of them had their heads halfway stuck down the bowl with their tails and back legs sticking up from the bowl.

Damn. I guess I'm going to have to call the plumber tomorrow.

I have this job on weekends delivering fashion to well-heeled people in Malibu, Bel-Air and all points northward. It's a great job because I get to go to these ridiculously lavish areas with more spectacular homes I've ever seen. It's pretty awesome. It's never boring, and sometimes these people even tip.

So I'm making a drop-off up in the Hollywood Hills and I'm really flustered getting the gown out and all, my ass is hanging out of my pants and my clipboard is falling down, and I turn around and there's this TMZ tour bus with these blonde apple knockers with their fucking cameras and iPhones taking pics of me pulling out a gown with my dick falling out my pants and I got THIS close to screaming, "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?"

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