No News, is Good News!
"So, I got my tongue up this chick's ass and she's lookin' at me like, 'Hey, do I know you.' And I'm all like, 'what else are you supposed to do when you in line at the bank.'"
Let me start by saying, "rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." So if I am not dead, if I didn't get that sex change for Christmas, and I didn't get wiped out by a giant wave while rubbernecking during the largest earthquake in 40 years then why have I not found the time to spew my wisdom upon the masses? I don't know, but thankfully for you all I moved desks in the office and rediscovered my certification of ordainment from the good ol' Universal Life Church and the Reverend Hotcarl is feeling all inspired and shite.
Speaking of inspired, in the last few days Reggie White (legendary Green Bay Packer) and Jerry Orbach (of Law & Order fame) have both died. My question is who is next? My money's on Regis Philbin, not because he is sick or anything, it's just that I would take great pleasure in hearing the inevitable "is that your final answer" jokes that would be sure to follow.
Me - "Hey did you hear Regis died?"
Some Random - "No"
Me - "Is that your final answer?"
Some Random - "Huh?"
Me - "I bet he could of used a life line."
Some Random - "That's no funny."
Me - "Yes it is. Fuck you!" And then I beat the hell out of them for not taking pleasure in other's misery. I have no patients for people like that.
So these new breasts of mine are quite firm... wait I didn't get breasts, that's just something strange Juddhole made up, but now that I think about it, it might be nice to have my own set of breasts to fondle as the lady at the Osco drug seems to get a little upset when I grab hers. But then again, who wants a bunch of dirt bag guys looking at my rack. I know, I would, but only if they buy me nice things and treat me right.
Speaking of transgender folks, anyone see the Marine that got shot and killed for killing some transgender prostitute who surprised him with a rousing game of find the sausage. I don't know who to feel sorry for the dead she-male hooker or the poor guy that was getting his pole polished and reached into the chicky's panties only to get a handful of man meat. Either way a couple people died violently and that's never a bad thing.
Seems there is an inordinate amount of death and cock in this entry. So I will leave you bidding you peace, love, and all that jazz.
Have fun,
j
P.S. - I wonder why no one has ever asked about the j? I feel like no one loves me anymore... except for that strange old gym instructor that lives next door to me who keeps coming over asking to borrow a pair of my tighty whiteys. OK, so that never happened, but I did leave a pair for him on his door step just in case he does ask for them. Preemptive strike, if you know what I am saying.
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