I just finished watching one of the worst stand up comedy concerts Netflix has to offer.
I will not say the name, mainly because I don’t want the karma that comes with making someone even mildly curious enough to watch it.
It would be same if I was encouraging a pedophile.
So, I will not name the shameless hack out loud, just say that when you take a mediocre talent and promote her, nay, ram her down the throat of the public, despite talent, you end up with what I call the “Beyonce Effect”.
Enough with that.
Here’s the problem with Thai food.
They use spices that exist nowhere else in the world. (Meaning in anything I would eat regularly enough for my system to be used to it.”
This leads to a condition the experts call “Asinus praesepe mortem certa explosione” (The ass explosion of certain death. Its Latin and fuck you if you don’t get the humor there.)
Its not a pretty sight, or smell, for that matter.
Picture this, if you dare.
For the first few hours.
Your stomach begins gurgling like an angry newborn after the first 5 minutes and the pressure/pain builds and builds.
The final 15 minutes is like giving birth without anesthesia. (Or so I’m told.)
The pressure gets so bad that for the final 2 minutes, your body produces the symptoms of stroke and your whole left side goes slack.
What happens to the toilet is a damn shame.
At this point, even atheists will thank God for the discovery of bleach and Febreeze. (Pro tip- Avoid Lemon scented room fresheners. The only thing worse than the smell of ass is a lemon ass.)
Luckily, much like a sudden storm, it fades by the next day.
The only thing left to deal with is the psychological side effects.
I am not saying that you can be outright traumatized by a dose of the quacker-shits, but it is a near thing.
Seems to be a lot of potty talk lately.
I am sure there is some sort of Freudian reason for it. (I doubt it, but anything is possible. There really isn’t anything I hide from myself.)
But it should never shock women when men get weird sexually.
Its kind of a deeply ingrained thing with us.
Begins early, around 12 or 13.
We discover that the penis has a secondary feature that we never knew about.
AND THE GAME IS ON!
What follows is a lifetime of shame, guilt and wondering if your lazy eye and near-sightedness is self inflicted.
As far as obsessive hobbies go, masturbation does not mind sharing.
It doesn’t mind you having a girlfriend, a wife, a job, or other passions in your life.
Its like the sexual version of Cheers.
Happy to see you, never forgets what you like and is willing to try new and freaky shit in a judgement free atmosphere.
Masturbation is the best friend who will never leave you.
Ok, potty talk morphed into a creepy jerking off tangent.
Time to get back on track.
Today is blue collar, 7-11 coffee.
Kudos to 7-11 for realizing that shitty coffee is a poor seller.
They stepped up their coffee game awhile back.
Now it is one of the main profit sites in the store and they recognize that.
Flavored creamers, a variety of roasts and sizes so large that even the true stimulant freaks (Holler!) can get their fill.
I went with a solid Columbian roast, nothing better for the morning.
3 pink packets and a little half n half later, Bittermac is a happy boy.
To quote a hot friend of mine:
Coffee up, motherfuckers!