Friday, February 27, 2009

come closer...

My English muffin is ready. My baby is awake. My wife is home from work and her friend from Florida is in town. They’re rapping about zoning laws and real estate right now. I’m adding nothing to the conversation. I feel a little gross today. I have kind of an upset stomach that’s ruining my whole world view. It’s making me feel gross. I have to go to work and I can’t really concentrate. I ate a few dried apricots and aside from the fact that they have the exact same consistency of earlobes (which makes them fun to chew if you’re not feeling gross) I was revolted by the idea that if I end up barfing them up today, it’s gonna be intense and difficult. The rubberiness, you know? Oh, man. That’s enough to really make me sick.
Anyway, I’m distracted and not terribly interested in telling all you people about anything today. Any long treatise about ass fucking will only serve to push me closer to the point at which I inevitably barf up dried apricots at work when someone orders a huge bowl of coleslaw, or a packet of mayo to squeeze into their bloody mary. Any discussion of Bukkake (which is the ancient Japanese art of smothering some lucky girl in a gigantic amount of loads) will only push me closer to the edge of no longer being able to keep this stomach full of earlobes down as the guy with the freshly sutured lip orders a gin and milk. Any talk of inserting gigantic and painful things into the ass cavity will only serve to remind me that if things go differently than I expect today, I may end up sitting there, shitting uncontrollably after sneezing a chocolate squirt all over my underwear and down the leg of my pants. ANY talk of felching will only exacerbate the feeling of loneliness that comes with feeling less than a hundred percent at work.
These are those moments, everyone. Those moments where you feel just enough like shit that it will definitely make the day last a lifetime, but where you don’t quite feel bad enough to justify the amount of complaining you know you’re gonna inevitably feel like doing all day.
This sucks. Have I mentioned that I hate my job and that this isn’t gonna make it any better? Well, at least I’m not on tour. In Ft. Collins, Colorado, I was once so sick that I had no choice but to just shit my pants over and over again on stage. In Florida I once had a lung infection so bad that in ninety degree weather, I was, until the moment we went on stage in the van with the heat on under three sleeping bags. I’ve barfed off the stage more than a few times due to illness. This is going to suck, but it’s not going to be that bad. I mean fuck. I’m not even really sick. Just gross…uh oh. Gotta run. Have a good weekend.

10 comments:

Candice said...

get ungross soon!

Tim said...

I remember that Fort Collins show, good stuff.

AOVM said...

brutal! ha.

phil lewago said...

sorry to hear you feel gross maybe this question will help..anyway me and my co-worker have a dissagreement over what a rusty trombone really is..i say it's the same as ATM. he says it's when you are getting your salad tossed and getting a reacharound at the same time...i know your a wise man could you settle this disagreement for us.

Jayzilla said...

growing up, i had a buddy who was 15 that drank milk and beer ... kinda his version of the clam juice/tomato juice/beer cocktail

Joshua said...

phil lewago - a rusty trombone is when someone gives you a reach around while eating your ass. the rusty is the asshole, the trombone is because it looks like you are playing a trombone. easy enough.

Joseph said...

"sneezing a chocolate squirt all over my underwear and down the leg of my pants"

one of the funniest fucking things i've ever heard

johnny B said...

puked off of the stage due to illness or intoxication?

dank purp said...

dude, you shit your pants. that's dedication. that's kinda badass, in a really shitty way. All right, so the email link didn't work, and i don't really have any other source of input (on a certain subject that i'm obviously about to reveal after this little forward) that i trust, so i feel like you very well may be my only hope. So, just like roughly 78% of the questions you get, this ones about a girl. So I dated this girl for about a year, and we ended up having a really serious, super fuckin awesome relationship, and like, she was set on getting married to me, like, this girl was done. And then I moved about four hours away for college, and shortly after i got there, i found myself doing way too many psychadelics and ended up breaking up with her. and in like the most asshole-ish way ever. a quick little example into the kind of shit i pulled would be the fact that i passed out while i broke up with her on the internet because i blazed too much of that dank purp, so i fell asleep all highed up, while i was tearing down the most stable thing in her life. A month or so after i did this, i realized that i fucked up hard, and i tried to get in contact with her. But she was like, fuck you asshole, and i was like, yeah know, it's true, i pulled some dick moves, i guess i'll just deal with it and move on. well, i'm several months and several girls beyond her, and i'm still like, head over heels, would do anything to get her back. So recently she's started texting me and emailing me. it started out just being drunk texts, which i pretty much blew off, but now she like, tries to actually have conversations with me, and she's admitted that she still wishes we could be together and that she daydreams about me just showing up. but, for the last like, four months, she's been dating this other dude. now, what the fuck should i do? this girl means like, the world to me, should i show up at her apartment and just put it all out in the open and see what happens, or should i just shut the fuck up, deal with it and move on? or maybe some third alternative, involving felching?

Crooks Blogojevich said...

BK, came across this, you might want to see what happened to your song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jujrACAavUA