Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Case of the Talking Pocono Corpse

Well...I don't know how I managed to do it, but I survived another debauchery filled episode of the Showrock Show and have lived to tell the tale. As we speak, I am severely sleep deprived, having arrived back in CT at about 2:30 am. Yes, leaving PA at 11:30 pm may have not been the brightest idea, but it sure was smarter than dusting a half of a 30 pack at 11:30 am and passing out. Nevertheless, I digress...(I love that phrase.)

Having left the pristine white man's paradise which is the Poconos and slowly transitioned back to the world of blaring police sirens and Puertorican hairspray, (God, I love New Haven), I am left feeling as though I may have done serious, irreparable damage to my own body but somehow managed to make myself a better person. LOL. Seriously. Free from the allure of the sirens songs, (not police sirens..like some Odysseus type sh*t...), sang by the heavily perfumed (and accented) Latina spitfires of the moment, I was able to reflect...a lot.

Have you ever wondered what the four walls surrounding you would say if they could talk? I haven't. I would punch all four of these walls in their f***ing face and tell them to keep quiet. Loose lips sink ships assholes. What if, however...our bodies could physically speak to us and let us know what they are thinking at any given time? I swear that this happened to me either in a dream, or via some super telekinesis type sh*t that I can do and you can't.

LOL. My body's inner loudmouth is definitely a wise-ass who thinks he's funny. I wonder where he gets that from? LMAO. Either way, I decided to write down his thoughts just so people can see what type of sh*t I have to put up with. Next time, however, I'm gonna go tell him to go f**k himself (no homo)...This is my blog. Not his.


Dear Showrocka. F**k you. We are not 21 anymore and thus should not be playing beer pong at all, let alone all f***ing day. While I do appreciate you not being "too black" and drinking malt liquor and Hennessey all day, this perpetual downing of domestic piss water has to stop. What? I'm no racist...I'm just saying...Do you know how long it takes me to process all of these toxins? Do you think that because your chilled animal piss water 'tastes as cold as the rockies' it is somehow akin to glacial mineral water? If you do, I seriously doubt the validity of that Ivy league degree. When'd they start letting negros into Penn anyway? Oh wait, I'm not supposed to say that. I meant African-Americans.

They still let people smoke in Bars down in PA? This is complete and utter nonsense. I could see if maybe people were smoking expensive cigars, or O.G. Kush, but American Spirits? Really? I guess something has to overpower the smell of cheap hooker perfume...I'm sorry...I meant to say cheap stripper perfume. This olfactory overload is a little too much for me kid. what do you think about that Mr. Nose (note to blog readers: I am aware that I'm losing my mind.)

Mr. Nose:
It sucks that your lungs are going to be all clogged up without you even getting the chance to enjoy all of the perils of smoking (i.e emphysema, yellow teeth and a whooping cough). Either way, I still think you have a better deal than me. I'm pretty sure I've never smelled anything like this 'place' we've wandered into. The scent of stale beer and the slight odor of a not so fresh meat market are tolerable, but when that one 'over' (reference to a woman over twice your age but usually still 'do-able) decided to light her body and feminine parts on fire before deep-throating a flaming (no homo) wand? That is something no man should have to smell, but which every man should see.

Sounds like you guys got the short end of the stick this time. It's cool though, I'm usually the one forced to look at over sized big shirley thongs and such. This time, however, I got a view of the wilderness, a fiery strip show and even a few red bulls to help keep us focus. Kudos Showrock. Just so you know that we appreciate you gracing us with incredible views of untamed wilderness (minus the 10 or so dead deer scattered across every inch of the highway), we wanted you to know that we've done something nice for you as well. You know that quasi X-ray vision that allowed you to spot every Herpes bump on 4/9 of the strippers' lips? Yea that was us.


We barely kiss regular girls and wouldn't have gone near any of those skanks, but the gesture was much appreciated guys. Strippers rock, but lets not forget that they suc*k co*k and dance for a living.

Live carefree, but not careless...This, my friends, is something that we all (Racist liver included) can agree on.

Live, Love Intra-bodyDiscourse


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