Tuesday, June 12, 2007
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An exerpt from the party conversation this Friday, which for some reason centered around illegal stimulants: Will: “That’s a class two narcotic.” Oscar: “Huh? How do you know? What do you do, man?” Will: “I’m a meat inspector.” Oscar whips down his pants to reveal the perfectly-positioned ass-tattoo that looks like a stamp and says “USDA Prime.” Classic. For those of you who made it out to Summer Bash v. 1.0, thanks for coming and I hope you had an awesome time. For those of you who missed it, you not only missed out on seeing my roomie’s ass-tattoo, but you also missed out many other hilarious moments, some damn good sangria, and a bunch of cool people. Never fear, though. There will most definitely be a repeat performance – we have a ton of liquor left over. Next time I say we break out the kiddie pool in the driveway – either that or slip ‘n slide. On a totally unrelated matter, I went to the dentist on Monday. That dentist is a pill-popping, crack-smoking Republican bastard. The majority of the time there was spent sitting in the chair while he’s digging into my gums with his little pokey-metal devilstick, making me wish I had dentures just so I wouldn’t ever have to go to the dentist again. But that’s not all. While my mouth is open wider than Miss Hilton’s as she makes a new porn entitled, “Paris: In the Hole,” I am forced to endure his political take on everything from the peak oil crisis to the upcoming presidential elections. Of course, I can’t say anything. Even if I could though, is it really a good idea to argue with someone who has a tool that I refer to as a “devilstick?” I think not. |
