Cable Pays for Sexy Chickens

I recently received a job offer to work for Time Warner as a broadband technician. It's not quite the pay I was expecting; but hey, how are you gonna beat the salary of a prostitute working under the guise of a customer care rep. from Joanne Fabrics that gives rim jobs in the back storeroom for red rope licorice? Don't you judge me.


I used to send blogs into Scrivel.com, which I suppose was a good idea at the time, even though it didn't raise my traffic at all; but that's not why I stopped sending things in. My stuff was edited too much and I personally like everything I write just the way I write it. The next time I ever decide to send my work into another website, I better own it, or at least be giving rim jobs to the owner of it.......and no Scrivel.com, that's not an invitation......unless you gonna do it. You know, I'm pretty damn sure I have ADD, not the opposite of subtraction, the attention thing. Every time I start writing, I start thinking about something else like, How many chickens will I be able to violate in public before someone notices I forgot to wear a condom? Which reality show should I murder the cast of with Joe Pesci's shoes first? It's just things like this that makah da world go round.

Frozen Hot things & Oriental Massages

I was in a coffe shop not too long ago. For the sake of anonymity, we'll call it Joseph Cupps. I was actually in there to buy a double shot of espresso for a tiramisu that I make (lay off, I'll stop cooking when I stop getting happy endings from my neighbors). So there I was, standing there looking at their menu while waiting to be served and what do I see in the midst of the apparent excitement poking me in the eyes from said menu?
Frozen hot chocolate...

"Hold on a damn minute", I said.

"Can I help you?"

"yeah, you can tell me how in the hell you make frozen things hot."

"Huh?"

"On the menu up there. You have frozen hot chocolate."

"yeah, it's really good."

"I didn't ask for a taste test, I want to know how it works."


Basically, I threatened to sue them for false advertisement. The entire ordeal really freaked out everyone in the place. They thought I was on drugs or something and I wasn't about to tell them they were right; That would have just thrown off my focus. By the end of the discussion, I confused the girl behind the counter to the point she started drooling. It was really just an excuse to flirt with her a little, but now that I lobotomized her, I really don't find her all that appealing.

When I got home, the neighbors loved my dessert.

Valentine's Day is Great for People Who Like Hearts

Well here it is, the most boring post I could possibly think of, because frankly, I don't care about any issues you or your gift card suppliers have about this day. Today is Valentine's Day, even though it's almost the day after Valentine's day, which I like to call, "Hungover and Regretfully Slept with a Drunk Hooker on Valentine's Day......Day". I didn't sleep with the hooker this time, I just even more regretfully filmed it......to beta. But hey, why not? It's a day we should all take completely seriously in the sense that Michael Jackson takes diddling little winkies seriously. Somebody call Hallmark and tell them McCaulley Caulkin finally found work! It pays in cotton candy and balloons, but at least it's a damn job.


My wife got her first and only tattoo today which I designed. I didn't tell her yet that I switched designs just before she met Mr. Needle...and hopefully she'll never find out. See, it was originally supposed to be a little nautical star.
Well, now she has this instead:






But at least I'm the jackass this time. She kept asking why it was taking so long...

No Mexican Tonight I'm Guessing

My wife quoted to me this morning, "You're the smelly bean fart of my existence... Everything is fine until you poop a little."
I had so much to say to that...although I couldn't breath, so that shut me up a little. Why, you might ask? Because I figured out exactly where the inspiration to that one-liner originated. I smelled a bean fart. Now is the time where you ask, "Hey, Beau! What's a bean fart?" (<--see there, I set up a straw man.) Is it a fart that smells like beans, or a fart that was caused by beans? Well, let me sum it up with a really long answer. Have you ever rummaged through a full, slimy dumpster on a summer afternoon when the heat is beating down on the warm baby barf odor emanating from the cracks in the rusted shut doors, found a half eaten burrito, and decided to squeeze it to watch all of the moldy refried beans squishing out? Now take a big whiff.............





Bean fart.






By the way, If you really have ever done that, please don't tell me.

The Price of Freedom is Ebay

I know I haven't been on here in a while, but a few things have happened since my last little spec-of-existence piece, but I have good excuses; some of which are in foreign languages, chewed by a rabid duck, and swallowed by somebody that's not grossed out by a duck.

Since my last post, I got laid off from work. Apparently, I and about a hundred others lowered the profit margin, go figure. I assume foolishly that as soon as the economy picks back up, I'll be back like canvas shoes and once again more Geico commercials featuring cavemen that didn't sell too well on television. I really did like working there, but I got laid off on the same day as someone who's been there almost the length of the company itself, so no hard feelings.....not even chubby feelings.
So, that being said, in my spare time, I've been selling like crazy on Ebay, finally getting the hang of it. My wife wanted the chance to work, so I gave up the role of the crouton winner and became Mr. Mom, the stay-at-home, super-powered jackass, as opposed to the regular run-of-the-mill jackass I usually provide. I'll be sure to contact the people that expect me to, so pull your pants back up, I'm not coming over tonight, I have a baby to feed.......and a doily to sell.