One of the grosser subject lines in memory. Sorry…
“Baby puked in front of me on my flight this morning. Almost had a Stand By Me pukefest as everyone freaked out, but did I? Fuck no. I used it as an opportunity to repeatedly and openly fart on a plane, a treat more rare than Albino Indian Women, which are VERY FUCKING RARE! The lady next to me would sneak stares and make stupid little passive aggressive noises after each squealing toot, and each time I’d just look at her and smile. “It’s a free for all,” I informed her. And that, my friend, is called making the best of a bad situation.”
Here’s the famous “Stand By Me pukefest”:
And no surprise here… its a gross one:
“Observation– Blue Moon kinda tastes like vomit. So when you drink 14 of them and puke, just garnish it with an orange!”
As I languish at home, he offers tips for a return to school and partying…
“When you go back to school and head back to the total awesomeness of college parties, I was thinking you might not be well versed in what to do if there’s only ONE hot girl at a party. Trust me, it happens. If you encounter such a situation, I need you to remember one important thing above all– IGNORE THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF HER.
A of all, everyone and their father is going to be hitting on the one hot chick at the party. She’s going to get annoyed eventually. So unless you get usurped by some Brad Pitt lookalike fuck (FUCK YOU BRAD PITT YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!!! SCAR YOURSELF OR SOMETHING!!!) she’s going to eventually have some wandering eyes that suddenly focus on the ONE DUDE at the party who hasn’t hit on her at all. That’s you. She’ll think, “What’s that guy’s deal. Does he think he’s better than me or something? Oh my God, maybe he IS better than me. Oh God. I have to puke.” When she gets back from puking, she’ll totally be down to F your D and M inside your J crack. You’re welcome.”
Back to the letters he goes. Anyone know what M-ing inside someone’s J crack means? Thanks.
The things he loves the most:
“I got invited to a “beer tasting party” today. Isn’t every party a fucking “beer tasting party?” But this guy meant like sipping and discussing and not the usual chugging and punching I enjoy. But here’s the problem: Jesus didn’t invent beer for us to talk about it. He invented beer for us to drink it. So the next time some bird-dick in a poncho (ponchos are about to be cool again, PS) tries to tell you about hops and micro-brews and organic wheat, show him the underside of your stink-trap, pound a Bud Heavy in his face and yell “These colors don’t run!!!!” And then try to puke if you’re up for it.”
Anyone know where the “underside of your stink-trap” is?
Also, did he pay for this billboard?