Ok, time for some serious conversation.  I love a good retard.  And even more, I love a pair of retards.  It’s best when the 2 retards are a couple, in a relationship and all that jazz.  I love to see them out in public, acting like they’re not the outcome of severe inbreeding.  I especially love it when the crazy fuckers are shouting, almost in tongues, retard obscenities that can only be described as moose mating calls. But what tops it all is what I witnessed today.

There I was, putting cake mix into a cart, when I turned to see another cart pulling around the end of the aisle. I noticed the items in this cart and I was intrigued. It looked like 6 or 7 bags of Funyuns. I thought to myself, “Cool. Someone’s having a party!” This was not the case. The cart continued along and I continued to look upon the booty these shoppers had selected. 2 or 3 more bags of Funyuns and 5 bags of Potato Skins. Then the cart comes 100% into plain view and there was the end of the “party” items…a half dozen boxes of Little Debbie heart shaped snacks.

Then I saw it. The shoppers. The consumers. The full blown, out-and-about, retards in the flesh. They were fueling this cart of junk food and it was frightening. But I calmed, I figured they had their heads on and were just having a small downs-party at their place or some shit. So I began to mind my own business for the time being.

Moments later I’m in line with my cart of necessities and the drooling shitpantsers were in the lane next to me and I overheard the following conversation:

Cashier: Ooooh is someone having a party?
Male Tard: No.
Female Tard: This is our food for the week. Todd likes Funyuns and I like potatoes.
Cashier: Well that’s cool.

This threw me into another dimension. I was floored by the fact that my first assumption that retards, errr the mentally handifucked, were really too stupid to do their own shopping, was in fact accurate and correct. At this point I’m trying to hold my laughter back because I can’t believe that these dipshits were able to survive for so long on nothing but Funyuns and Potato Skins. Obviously I had missed out on some shit.

So for the next 2 weeks I’m eating nothing but Funyuns, Potato Skins, Little Debbies and beer. Of course the beer is a must do because as we all know, massive consumption of alcohol makes anyone retarded. It’s only fair that I play by the rules.

I promised I’d write some more blogs, but I’m too fucking busy watching Season 2 of Dragnet and working a bit.  No, shut the fuck up, I’m not employed, but I do still work on some shit when I’m not blogging or ignoring life.

That having been said, I have a couple of confessions to make…beer and I had sex last week and we’re expecting a child.  If any of you have a problem with it I strongly suggest you spread your cheeks and make an open invite for my foot.  Beer and I are in love and we’re going to continue making babies until beer can’t pop out anymore of my offspring.

The second confession involves myself, all of you, and anal sex.  It’s been concluded in my studies that anal sex is 100% loved by everyone.  If you’re sitting still with concerned eyes thinking, “Anal is icky!” then pay very close attention, you’re about to be enlightened.

Ever sit down in the bathroom, dropping the deuce and relaxing?  I have too.  In fact, I shit so often I make many observations during the act, one of which I am bringing to you right now.  If you’re a person who doesn’t like anal, isn’t sure about anal or just plain homophobic, this blog is for you.

Take a shit, go on, do it, I’ll wait.  Now that you’ve released the demons, tell me how it felt.  If you haven’t noticed, take another shit.  During the bowel movement you’ll notice that the satisfactory feeling is EXACTLY the same as that of an orgasm…and when it’s all done, it feels about the same.

Don’t believe me?  Go have sex, then after sex take a personal note about how you felt right after climax.  Recognize anything?  Exactly the same after shitting.  Amazing!

All of that aside, it’s proof adding towards my observation that everyone loves anal.  Why would shitting feel so good and similar if it wasn’t the same?  Think about it, shitting IS anal.  Duh.  So next time you bitches complain about us men wanting to take a drive down the chocolate speedway, remember that it’s just like taking a shit…in reverse.

Let me just say, for the record, than men are manly and women need to learn this.  So seriously, women, quit asking us to do unmanly tasks like the dishes or washing our hands.  Men aren’t clean, nowhere near, we’re grungy, dirty, disgusting and overall unfit to be seen at a family dinner, but without the man it wouldn’t be a family dinner.  I mean come on, someone’s got to make that shit exciting.  Picture what a family dinner would look like without someone manly at the table.

“Gee, golly, pop.  It would sure be swell if I could go outside and play ball with the fellas after dinner.”

“Why sure you can, son.  Just remember to do your chores and homework before you leave the house!”

“Shucks dad, it’ll be dark before I get done with those.”

“Well just this once I think we can allow you to go outside and play before chores.”

Yeah, what the fuck?  Now compare that to a regular family dinner with a MAN in charge.

“Dad?  DAD?!  DAD, I’M GOING TO GO OUT AFTER SUPPER!”

“The fuck you are.  I don’t put food on this table, clothes on your back, a roof over your fucking head for you to go out and play some queer jumping jack games with that faggot neighbor kid.  He’s a peter-puffer, you know, stay away from that little fairy, you hear me?”

“Aww but da-”

“But what? Are you trying to overrun me you little weasel?  Do you think you’ve got what it takes to run this family?  HUH? DO YOU!?  Yeah, that’s what I fucking thought, just sit there and cry like life is so damned rough.  You want rough?  How about I take you to Vietnam, you know, Korea, that was fucking rough.  But you don’t see me crying, do you?  Fuck no.  Hell, I came back, built this house, married this bitch who can’t cook, then got really fucking careless on New Years and then some asshole decided he was going to win the egg race.  You think you’re fast you little shit?  Maybe you should run the fuck away from the table before I slap the tears of your face.  You sound like a water-filled carburetor, I ought to fix you the same way I fix those, hit you with a wrench 30 times then unscrew your head.  Ungrateful prick.”

This would normally continue on for about 30-45 minutes or until the child smartens up and stops breathing.  The man would then make a statement about how the child ruined his appetitve and promptly leave the table and head out.  Of course, the man in the situation is only proving how manly he is by not eating.  Men don’t need food, men can survive for years on nothing but beer and adrenaline.

But men DO NOT do the dishes.  The man’s responsibility is the maintenance of the home, accessories, vehicles, you name it.  The man fixes shit.  There ain’t no time in a man’s day to worry about the cleanliness of porcelain. 

It wasn’t our goddamned choice to use the plates, we didn’t want anything to do with making more of a mess that would be required to be cleaned, fuck that. Hell, if it were up to a man, we’d be eating off industrial strength napkins and drinking out of the carton, us men can’t be bothered with unnecessary, time consuming tasks that could have been avoided with simple planning.

Just updating you with news that I will be not updating today.  Strange?!

Ok, maybe I lied.  Let me recap the weekend:  Drunk driving across the state getting pulled over and getting a speeding ticket.  Setting a store record for cajun shrimp plates at the Fargo Red Lobster, 17 plates.  Being semi-drunk again.  Driving home.

Yeah, that sums up my weekend.