Having attended my first PsorPhil BMW outing, I’ve come to realize a few things about my support group which I’d be happy to share. If only I can find the right words that is. (Thanks to The Play Ground Studios for the image).
It would be only so easy to romanticize everything that has to do with our organization and what it stands for. I need only to employ the use of flowery words like “courageous,” “selfless,” “untiring,” and “dedicated” to describe the organizers and the members, and no one would have any reason to disagree with me.
Continue reading ‘Scarred (An Open Letter to my PsorPhil Brothers & Sisters)’
“ALRIGHT. WHO’S THE ASSHOLE WHO FUCKING GAVE ME A FUCKING BUTTERFLY?!” I asked the guys nicely.
Blank stares answered me. And a few thumbs up some asses. In some cases two.
“A butterfly, Pau?” asked Baddie.
“Yes, a butter–fucking–fly. Did I stutter?” The guys shifted uncomfortably, each of them waiting for somebody else to answer.
“Well no Pau,” Coco interjected. “If you stuttered, we would have heard you say ‘Butt—butt-butt-butt-butterfly!’ AMIRITE?!” The severity of my glare told me that he was indeed, “not rite.”
“I’M GOING TO START COUNTING—” I went on.
“And we’re going to start dancing.” continued Bim. Or rather, that’s what he tried to say before I punched him in the neck. In reality, what he said was “And we’re going to start—OW OW OW JESUS PEDRO CHRIST!”
“Now then. I’m going to ask again. Nicely this time. Which one of you sensible idiots gave me this fucking butterfly?” I said, with much restraint.
Continue reading ‘The Case Of The Butterfly Stain: A TMB Mystery’
If you guys are following me on Twitter, chances are you may be privy to an incident I had which involves my teeth getting a little too familiar with my tongue.
And whether or not you wanted photographic proof of said incident, I thought it necessary to supply it all the same. Because I’m a nice guy like that.
Continue reading ‘What the heck, I’m Tongue Flap Man’
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