SHOTGUN FARTS

SHIT! I’ll tell you what; I bought a whole shitload of fresh roasted garlic with olive oil on it, like 3 fist full's worth, at the supermarket yesterday.  I ate them ALL.  They were so fuckin’ good.  This morning and pretty much all day today I have had a school that requires a fair amount of concentration and finite hand coordination (you have a dirty ass mind, shut up).  The gas produced by the quarter pound of roasted garlic built up in my system so quick and smelled so bad that I had to rush to the bathroom every half hour.  I couldn’t concentrate the pressure pains were too much.  Each time I ran to the toilet and hurriedly sat down, my ass cheeks were splayed open by the curvature of the seat cover’s design, and my sphincter didn’t even have a chance to flutter..BAM!! Like a shotgun!! (not even close to an exaggeration) the 75psi worth of gas in my bowels ejaculated out of my ass! (and yes that is an appropriate way to use that word, see you learned something today.. it’s not just for nut bustin’)  How did I know it was the roasted garlic and olive oil that caused this half hourly turmoil?  I could clearly see, just as you would corn, the WHOLE garlic cloves just as they went into my mouth but coming out the other end with such velocity as to chip the enamel of the porcelain toilet.  Hell, I probably could have pulled them out of the toilet and ate them again they looked so similar to how they were just yesterday going into my mouth.  I was actually concerned that someone might think I was making a snuff film in one of the stalls because it didn’t sound like I was farting/sharting  AT ALL.  The fart was quick and explosive and the sound (yes the sound) of the garlic cloves ricocheting off of the toilet bowl walls was so similar to a Mossberg 500 that if anyone was within ear shot I might be in jail right now. 

Side note:  Another way of using ejactulate is:  He couldn’t take the child’s constant whining and bickering anymore and finally ejaculated, “Shut the fuck up or I’ll kick the fuck out of you!”  (if you read old books, as I like to, you hear it used in this way a lot, still sounds weird though.)

Another note:  I could have put Blade to shame today with the amount of vampires that would have gotten fucked up being anywhere near me.

I WISH MY CATS HAD GLAUCOMA

                                                                                 

I have five cats, yes, you heard me…five!  They used to be awesome and my goal was to have six cats so I could say at parties, “I’ve got a half dozen cats.”  Cause if you have five you’re just the crazy cat guy or lady, but if you have a half dozen, now you’re trendy and hip.  So now that I’m getting sick of these little bastards, after 10 years of having them, I don’t know how to get rid of them.  I look at my cats, condescendingly of course as I always do, and they look pretty fuckin’ healthy.  I don’t think they are ever gonna die, hell, they might even out live me at this rate.  They aren’t like outdoor cats that have to struggle to find food and fight other cats for territorial supremacy and mates, living a stressed out life. They are lazy, ungrateful, and spoiled cats each with their own belly fat that sways as they walk.  They look fit as a fiddle.  You’d expect the signs that a house pet is getting old to be, like, glaucoma in both eyes, teeth falling out, fur manging and falling out, limping and in pain, etc.  These fucking cats are doing back flips!  That’s like going to your Grandpa’s house expecting to see a decrepit old man and you walk in on him banging Miss Oklahoma 1999 while flexing in the mirror like Patrick Bateman from American Psycho.  I’m not sure what to do?  I want to smother them with a pillow or drown them or shoot them in their cute little furry fucking faces with a shotgun but I don’t have the heart to do so.  I thought about giving them away but I’m too damn attached to them.  It’d be like giving away your kids, you want to, but you’d feel bad for a little while after the fact.  So now, I’m basically just stuck waiting for them to die.  I find myself sitting on the couch petting them while they purr away on my belly, saying “why won’t just die you little son-of-a-bitch, just die already!”  Why couldn’t I have five gerbils instead?  Their life span is like 2-4 years.  When you’re done sticking them up your ass, just break their neck and throw their little shit covered ass in the trash.  Then get a new one.  I used to go through like 10 a week back in the day.  I’d buy um’ by the bushel.

Side note: A cat’s life span is approximately 12-14 years.  A gerbil’s life span is approximately 2-4 years.  A gerbil’s lifespan in my house … 30 minutes to an hour depending on if he scratches my colon or not.