Monday, November 29, 2010

Thanksgiving Week at Brothatime!!'s

- On the bus ride down during the night, the light above me didn't work. I was about to ask the 300 year-old woman next to me if she'd mind switching so I could read my book, but I saw that she was pulling out a book herself so I said fuck it, I'll let the old bag read. Of course within 3 seconds she was dead asleep, her book lit up gloriously while my eyeballs fell out of my head and rolled down the aisle after trying to strain to read in the fucking dark.

- I had Thanksgiving dinner with a table full of Harvard graduates, whom I of course immediately dragged down to my own cesspool level by starting a discussion about the Kadashian sisters that lasted the entire meal.

- I found myself in a serious conversation with two other men about how much money Miley Cyrus is worth.

- I guess we're not disgusted enough by green bean casserole, since apparently something called "creamed onions" has been invented. Fucking hell.

- A hot French woman almost half my age who's been in the country for a month was so charmed by me that she asked for my phone number for when she visits NYC on New Year's Eve. I guess after all this time I have finally found my demographic when it comes to chicks: ones that can't understand what the fuck I'm saying. I told her she can give Thanksgiving to the French since they gave us French fries and, I must say, my  age-old "la nuit, tous les chats sont gris" STILL kills after all these years. Maybe she thought my saying "at night, all the cats are gray" was a clever, classy way of saying "hey, all pussy is pink on the inside"? Ah, those French.  A wily, horny people.

- I am now king of the little girl set since I revealed to a bunch of them I'm a writer for the Hannah Montana Show. They fell for it hook, line and sinker. Why the fuck do I waste my good lies on little girls and not women I'm trying to bang? What the fuck?

- I had P-Dawg's stuffing for every meal but one, and I'm miffed about the one I didn't have any.

- I slayed Paddy Mac with my killer Yogi and Boo-Boo impressions. "Yogi, you said you were going to make special brownies...but these are clearly just brownies." If you don't think that one's making an appearance when I'm squiring my young French lady about the town, you're out of your goddam mind. "Baby, you said you were going to give me a blowjob...but you are clearly just holding my dick in your hand while blathering away at me about something."

- Found a book that had ten different fart buttons you could push. It was like a Whoopie Cushion, but obviously classier. I'm still kicking myself I didn't buy it. What the fuck was I thinking?

- Found out there's another person out there who had the same dream as I once did of filling an El Camino up with water and driving cross-country. Funny - when you hear it out loud and from somebody else, it doesn't really sound like the THE coolest thing in the world.

- On the bus ride back, the bus wasn't even half-filled yet when the fucking Ugandan Giant decided to sit next to me. Wtf? I know I've lost a few pounds recently, but I'm still PRETTY sure that if you took .0003 seconds to look you'd find someone else smaller than me to sit next to. Fucking hell.

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