“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’
So I know this guy. Let’s call him, um, Schmau. So Schmau was enjoying a concert of sorts which was called the, erm, Schmanana Schmangbang Schmock Schmestival. As the night progressed, it eventually became more and more apparent to him that his bladder was quite inadequate to accommodate the amount of liquor he has been ingesting since he arrived.
Schmau, being the slave to his bodily functions that he is, did what any self respecting person would do; he dutifully headed straight to the bathroom to drain the lizard.
Upon entering the the bathroom, Pau Schmau saw to his dismay that the urinal was placed at a much higher level than what he was accustomed to. Rather than spend time contemplating the injustice done to people who happen to be short in stature, but big in heart (and crotch); Schmau decided to quit dicking around, and plow ahead, so he could get to the point. (Yeah, I did something there. See if you can see it.)
As he started to unbutton his fly, Schmau discovered that while he still had full control over his hands, seven of his fingers appear to have decided to turn themselves into pudding at this point. Schmau would have shaken his fists at the bottles of beer he had, but that would entail full control over all his digits.
Continue reading ‘So I Know This Guy…’
I’m going to reveal something about myself that you may not realize.
Ready?
Wait for it….
Just a little more……
OK here it is: I’m a douche.
Hard to believe, but it’s true.
Reason being is I don’t enjoy people a lot. Most of the time, I just like to stay at home and not be around people. There are days when interacting with people or hearing human voices is at the very bottom of my “Things I’d sooner do than poke my eye with my high-heeled stiletto because I’ve decided to become gay” list. Ok that didn’t make sense, but suffice it to say that I am not a people person.
Of course there are exceptions like my wife, my family, and some scary people who don’t annoy me as much as most people do. But because these people are indeed exceptions, they are few and far between.
“But Pau,” some of you may ask. “You’ve always been nice to me. Does that mean I’m special?”
The answer, my good man, would be no. I was nice to you not because you are special. I was nice to you because I didn’t think much of you as a person to begin with. Also, burn!
Continue reading ‘Operation: Stop Being a Douche’
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