AnonymousCoworker

What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve been posting about snowball fights, and surprise parties, and music, and other lame stuff like that. It’s enough to give Norman Rockwell the erection of a lifetime. An erection which I’m sure he would use to paint yet another picture of a boy with a baseball glove, a floppy-eared dog, and gangly adult.

And while I’m on the topic of Norman Rockwell with an erection, I’m now realizing that I haven’t posted about necrophilia in ages. I know you’re all always like, “Oh, dude, having sex with dead bodies is so gross, I totally wouldn’t be into the sensuous feeling of an unmoving partner and wrapping my arms around their cold and rubbery body. And embalming gives me a rash on my hoo-hoo bits,” but I know you’re totally into it. You’re probably going to be using this paragraph as erotica for the night later this week when you fill your blow-up doll with gelatin, submerge it in a bathtub full of ice water, and then go “KY” on it’s ass, and we both know I’m not talking about Kentucky.

And while I’m speaking about Kentucky, I haven’t made fun of inbreeding hicks is quite some time either. I know they can’t really read anything I’m writing here anyway, so I don’t fear any recrimination, unless one of you uppity bastards decides to go into the hills, get humped by an uncle, and then teach the filthy bean-farmers how to read. All of a sudden I’m going to be getting anonymous comments from IP addresses in the Ozarks saying, “OMG n00b ur teh gay LOL !!!1!one!!”

And while I’m talking about Internet dorks, I must say that I’m fucking exhausted of that David Hasselhoff video. Me and my boys were making fun of Michael Knight back in the day, and we saw that ooga chaka shit in 2001. Ha ha, he’s painted up like a psycho and dry humping some penguins while wearing a full-body fur suit, fulfilling any number of gay, fur-fetishist wet dreams. I just wanted you to know that I had my fur-fetishist wet dreams fulfilled 5 years ago. Welcome to the party, pal.

Here’s hoping this post is a turning point in my blogging, or else I might have to start my car, put a hose in the tailpipe, and then shove the other end of the hose right up my ass. Just to be on the safe side, I’m also going to kill my cat, so I don’t get any ideas about blogging about him.

He’s a real douchebag anyway. This morning, when I went outside to warm up my car, I found him sitting on the table drinking the milk out of my cereal… oh shit. I’ve gone and blogged about the cat anyway. Carbon Dioxide enema, here I come.