FREE AMERICA

saw a lot of kerry/edwards bush/cheney bumper stickers today (the former identifying those holding on to one tiny shred of hope, the latter identify the oh-so-proud to back the winner), and i started inventing my own cheeky, little auto-slogans of my own... i was also pissed to be stuck in traffic behind a gigant-o-normous truck who's owner saw fit to simultaneously promote his right-wing affiliations and take up two lanes of perfectly good road. ass.

anyway, behold the new fall line of bumper stickers:

YOU HAVE NO HEALTH CARE BECAUSE GAYS MAKE YOU FEEL ICKY. DUMBASS

or

GRAMMA EATS CAT FOOD BECAUSE YOU VOTED REPUBLICAN

or more to the point

GOD HATES YOU BECAUSE YOU MAKE HIM LOOK BAD

and a surprise addition from my roommate right this very second:

YOU VOTED FOR BUSH SO YOUR KIDS CAN'T READ THIS.... AND THEY PROBABLY HAVE ASTHMA.

well done, indeed.
p.s. i'm super pissed at the staff from H-bomb. i ordered an extra special issue to put in an MCAT care package for Pete, like, three friggin weeks ago and it hasn't shown up yet.... lousy smart kids...

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BUTTSEX ETIQUETTE

many schools offer a brief tutorial on how to behave like a proper human being (and not the wretched beast i know you are) when dining with a boss or potential employer in which one learns how to eat and drink according to a trusted set of guidelines that we refer to as "etiquette." i believe that such guidelines exist in every imaginable social situation... like assfucking. why shouldn't we, as a civilized culture, have a specific set of rules for courteously and thoughtfully fucking another person in the ass? as of today, the consensus among those polled is a resounding "on" vs. "in" for where a man should finish (the overwhelming majority of mainstream porn actors, writers, and directors seem to agree on this point... the idea for this post originated there, so let's take a moment to appreciate what this multi-billion dollar industry has done for this great civilization). what else would Emily Post (should she ever have expounded on such a ribald topic) say on the subject?

and while we're on the subject, let's take a moment to wish one of my dearest friends the best of luck on the MCATs. i hope they at least buy you dinner before "finishing." good luck, pal.

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SHINY, HAPPY TUESDAY

while driving to work this morning i felt a strange compulsion to say the most appalling things to people in the most appalling way like, you're a pissy, whiny little cunt and you haven't had one original thought in your worthless fucking life, or will someone please stick something in that girl so she'll shut the fuck up?! then some woman started drifting into my lane, so i started drifting towards her, you know, to give her a little chin music with the Chevy, and she honked and pitched a goddamn fit though she was still in my lane. that's how i knew some motherfucker was gonna die today.

happy tuesday!

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ANTHROPOMORPHIC VAGINA

suddenly i'm intrigued by the idea of an anthropomorphic vagina, less so because i need another excuse to obsess about the treasure chest and more so i can conjure up hilarious scenes in my head featuring walking talking cartoon sex organs:

CAST:
Alistair Roundbottom: a well-bred, successful haberdasher in west-end london, Alistair is an older gentleman in the twilight of his prime. he speaks with an aged, but commanding voice attributed to his years spent in her majesty's royal navy and countless arguments with Mrs. Devonshire. he is also a young woman's vagina.

Mrs. Agnes Devonshire: left a sizable fortune by her late husband, Col. Nigel Cherrybuttocks Devonshire, Agnes maintains the air of sophistication that an english lady-of-the-house should maintain. she was once considered for an appointment to her majesty's court but passed over due to a rather embarrassing scandal involving the duke of Sansknickershire. not one to relinquish any ground to the stern Mr. Roundbottom, Agnes speaks with the imposing tone of dme. Margaret Thatcher and is as feisty as her years will permit. she is also a young woman's vagina.

you can imagine the kind of tasteful comedy that will ensue between these two characters... in the meantime, i'll do the unthinkable and republish a relevant passage from Mercurial Girl, a pro i discovered while mining the Erosblog diaspora:

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Hi! Kim's pussy here. Well girls, tell me, shall we dish? Yes, I thought so. When she was little I had this thing going with her mouth. We had this agreement that we would keep her hands busy. Her thumb was always in her mouth and her other hand in the diaper. But alas, her parents interfered and got her a pacifier and kept telling her to take her hands out of her pants.... ...We read in the paper about women who are having cosmetic surgery on their pussies. And I have a confession to make: My labia are uneven. I'm afraid if I keep on her about her cleavage those mosquito bites will insist I get evened up. And I like myself the way I am. Though I'll admit that I'm envious of the pussies I see at the club who have luxuriant, trimmed fur pelts. Alas, bald is better than looking like a bad comb over...

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sleep tight, kids.

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HOUSE CLEANING

a few of you have asked me what i meant by "smart girl box" in the previous post, and i've spent a couple of sleepless nights thinking about a good response... i understand there was some ambiguity in the phrase, and you may have thought i meant "smart girl-box" (implying some inherent intelligence in the cash register itself), but i assure you i mean only that i want to know the vagina i'm looking at is attached to something worthwhile.

i've been going to the gym pretty regularly lately, so i've been noticing a lot of repeat customers... there's a strange culture among some of the hardcore bodybuilders there, they seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in front of the mirror proportionate to the amount of time spent lifting things and putting them back down again. i started thinking, are these guys so cockdiesel'd up they actually turn themselves on? which, of course, led me to think, do they go home, look in the mirror and vigorously masturbate?! good heavens!! but i figured if i were hot enough to turn myself on, i'd probably do the same. in honor of that i shall henceforth refer to masturbation as "HOT ME ON ME ACTION."

by the way, i'm really fed up with michelob ultra adds with svelt swimmers and triatheletes... it should be:
if you're a girl, and you're in college, and you don't want to get a big, huge, fat ass... drink michelob ultra.
now that'd be a good add.

and at least i never slept with lumbergh.

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PAGE 47 FROM THE MANUAL...

winter is a very revealing time; you can learn a lot about a person or group of people by how they handle stress during this season, and bostonians are certainly no exception. take for instance the way you deal with snow and your cars. we midwesterners do not understand you. you puzzle us. we watch you bundle on layer after layer of winter clothing, step out into the biting wind, and meticulously carve your automobiles out of snow while we watch you from the cozy warmth of our barbeque. we, as a people, have learned to live in harmony with the snowy tempest, and we have lived in peaceful coexistence with the winter for generations. take note:

clearing the snow from your car in the morning…
i have stared in wonder at some of you carefully removing every last snowflake from your car, first with the brush, then the scraper, the toothbrush, the fine chamois… your car is not a rare archaeological find, it is a beast of steel. treat it as such.
-begin with this simple test: extend both arms directly in front of you and wiggle your fingers. can you see them? if so, it is daytime. do not clean off your headlights.
-continue on to your rear license plate… do you know what it’s for? it’s there because the police need to know who you are when you’ve been bad. do not clean off your license plate.
-third on the list: your rear window. take a very close look at your rear window. see those thin, black lines? heat comes from there. it melts the snow. do not clean off your rear window.
-more importantly, re-think your windshield. many people scrape the ice from their windshield before driving. this is wrong. get in your car, turn it on, and locate the windshield washer. hold the washer in until the fluid breaks through the layer of snow on the hood. once a 4-inch spot has opened up on your windshield, you will be able to see forward. do not get out and clean off your windshield.
-if you must use your side mirrors, roll your windows down three inches. roll them up, and there will be a three-inch clean spot on the bottom of the window. wax on, wax off. do not clean off your side windows.
-objects that are not attached to the outside of the car will fall off at speed. do not clean off your hood.
-ragtops are soft and flexible. a few well-placed blows at 25mph will dislodge any remaining snow and discourage tailgaters. do not clean off your hood.
follow these rules and you will be on the road in less than three minutes.

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TODAY, A GOOD DAY?

woke up today strangely optimistic. me and cube got up about tha' same time....

just wakin' up in the morning, gotta thank god
i don't know, but today seems kinda odd
no barkin' from the dog,
no smog
and momma cooked the breakfast with no hog
i got my grub on
but didn't pig out
finally got a call from a girl i wanna dig out
hooked it up for later as i hit the door
thinkin' will i live another 24
i gotta go, cause i got me a drop top
and if i hit the switch, i can make the aaaass drop
had to stop at a red light
lookin' in my mirror, not a jacker in sight
and everything is all right
i got a beep from kim
and she can fuck allll night...

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