Quickly, my little dogs of war…there’s almost no time. I have to get on my bike and ride about six miles to my job in just a moment. Yesterday a beautiful thing happened here. Someone out there, one of the millions of you reading this thing offered up some info that created a level of discourse that brought all of us together and share stories…Some that were quite awesome, and THAT makes this like a little reality show of a blog, doesn’t it? Not like in the sense of the Bachelor, but more in the sense of the sort of reality programming pioneered by Howard stern, where the show IS actually the interworkings of the show and the audience’s input. It’s all very meta. This is a bold new threshold of blogging entertainment everyone….It’s multifaceted. There’s the front page here, where I’ll regale you with hilarious stories of Chris and I getting so drunk in an irish themed bar in germany that chris crawled into the bathroom and passed out while throwing up and our friend Mike set himself on fire and I fell off my barstool. That’s a great level, right? Then, we’ll get chris and/or mike to leave comments regarding their takes on the whole thing which in turn should lead to a level of discourse amongst yourselves which I, in turn react to thereby perpetually propelling this entertainment cycle. Does that sound cool? Good.
I bring up this dull structural analysis of how this (well, ALL OF US, actually) could be on the verge of an incredible new format for one simple reason: It’s Friday. On Fridays, no one goes on the internet. You know why? They’re out at bars with patios drinking margaritas and chocotinis and sending back their veggie subs because they didn’t know the fucking thing came with cucumbers and generally pissing off the bartender. They’re trying to get all their work done that they’ve blown off all week by surfing guesshermuff, textsfromlastnight, thisiswhyyourefat, spoiledphotos and of course badsandwichchronicles and so now, like a day of confession, or the day your girlfriend gets home from a week out of town, they’re running around frantically trying to get everything in order, finish all the dishes, get the smell of random vaginas off your balls etc.
Yeah, Friday. It’s cool. I make money on Fridays, and I plan on making a lot today, although I’m gonna have to bust my balls to do it. Still, my point remains. No one goes on the internet on Fridays. If you don’t believe me, look at how much the content drops off. Yahoo’s still running the same stories, young skanks who think they’re famous because of myspace don’t upload any new pictures of their cunts, shit like punknews.org just kind of goes through the motions and puts up the garbage stories from throughout the week about bands you’ve never heard of playing one off shows or recording eps for some label that will fold before it comes time to press something. You get the idea.
It’s a fucking desolate, abandoned city today. As such, fuck it. I’m not gonna try.
No, you know what? I AM gonna try. For you, the last remaining gunslingers out there. I’m going to take what we were talking about before and put it into practice. In the spirit of us all working together to generate the best content that I possibly can with a bunch of semiliterate strangers, here’s what I’m gonna do: reflect on the comment board.
Firstly, the load blower himself made an appearance. He’s as surprised by his newfound celebrity as anyone. Hey bud, word of advice: fame is fleeting. If you’re gonna parlay that chest load into something else (stint on a soap opera, talk show, another load on another chest) you better act fast. Also, the load acceptor wrote in to mention that her profile has been viewed a ton of times since yesterday’s post (‘droppin loads! Edward James Olmos!”) which is def. Understandable, because hey, what’s the next thing that almost everyone is gonna do after they get done reading this? That’s right, head on over to gapingdistendedassholes.com and whack off, and what better way to get in the frame of mind to do such a thing than to get a look at the rack in question here…or at least attempt to find out a little info about the person who surrounds the rack.
Another young lady wrote in to talk about barfing on dicks, and I can relate. I can ABSOLUTELY see myself throwing up while giving a blowjob. In fact, I’m trying to imagine a situation where I’m giving a blowjob and I don’t throw up, and I just can’t. Finally, there’s Candice. Candice has made a bit of a name for herself around here with her outrageously awesome comments since the beginning of this dumb, mustard colored paragraph generator and yesterday was no exception. “Lick the jizz off your tits!” she proclaimed, causing throngs of gentlemen readers to announce (not for the first time) that Candice seems to be, indeed, marriage material.
Here’s my take on the jizz/tit licking of jizz situation. Do whatever you want with it. Once it’s out of me, it’s all yours, and I’m probably already digging around in your fridge for a beer and an ice cream sandwich. So go nuts. Now THAT’S how you write a pun.
Are you fucks brave enough to keep this amazing cycle going? No. It’s Friday. I know how it is…It’s my friend Marcus’s birthday party today, speaking of jizzing on things. He’s asked all his guy friends to all whack off into coffee cups for the past three weeks and just dump it on him when we show up tonight. It’s all he wanted. Hey, sounds cool to me. I mean, it’s free, right? I skipped last Thursday due to a hangover, but otherwise I’m ready. I think I made up for it on Friday. OH! I almost forgot the final one. Gotta go, now I’ve got 2 things to do.