Good morning, universe. Today is March 12, 2014, approximately 8:22am. An ungodly hour to be thinking, or writing well. Luckily I’m doing neither. In fact as I write these words I’m suppressing a huge urge to crawl back into bed for what inevitably turns into an undetermined amount of time. Once I go back into that bed, my brain is like a bulldozer, canceling any and all events that I’ve planned for the day.
Here is what I have planned:
1. Write the Whinings (well obviously)
2. Masturbate w/ veggies (for the vitamins)
3. Attempt to go to the gym/stare at my gym bag for 12 minutes
4. Expensive lunch with an expensive friend $-)
5. Expensive dinner with poor friends $-(
6. Erotic male dancers
7. Tofutti Ice Cream – or the real shit, depending on if I can get a dancer to come home with me tonight.
It’s a good day. I mean as far as days go.
I’ve been experiencing bouts of insomnia or maybe my internal cock is just all messed up. I would like to note that I just misspelled the word “clock” and turned it into something dirty and amusing. I will keep it because now I’ve grown attached to it and to the idea of having an internal cock. I mean, if we really want to dig deep into this, I am always striving for an internal cock one way or another. I think it was my sleep deprived brain’s way of telling me that I’m a whore. Or a secret man. Or both.
I have all these feelings.
Things to think about today:
1. How many times can you lick a spoon before it’s okay to not wash it?
2. Where does all my fallen pubic hair end up… really?
3. Can tomatoes save the earth?
4. Does superman use kryptonite condoms? Do they make his penis glow?
5. When is the best time of day time to yell “I HAVE NO VAGINA!” amongst a group of strangers?
6. Do hot dogs have self esteem issues? Don’t they know how hot they are?
I want to experiment with hot sauce and blow jobs. I mean I sprinkle Franks on basically everything I put in my mouth… so this seems like a natural progression. If anything, it’ll at least make tossing salads more enjoyable (for me).
I’m lazy about showers. There I said it. It’s like when I was a kid and my mom would try to drag me to some bullshit event, like Teddy’s 7th Spiderman themed birthday party (Teddy was 46 years old, he just had 7 of these themed parties). Anyway, I would kick and scream and yell “I don’t wanna go!” only to realize that those bullshit events were the only form of social interaction I had, and ended up having a really amazing 2 hours. The sugar high didn’t hurt either. So what I’m saying is… maybe I need some chocolate birthday cake in my showers (yes, of course I’m talking about poop).
I just yawned. I’m going back to bed. Yeah, it’s happening. Don’t judge me. Fine, judge me. It’ll be fuel for my #2 thing to do today.
Until next week or whatever.