Greetings from the Beach
Posting this from a war zone therefore I must be short. Please save me. I am here with three married couples. They have kidnapped me and taken me to the beach. I am forced to listen to strange noises at night, and to even share a bathroom with one couple. I live in fear. Fear that I will find something I do not want to find. I close my eyes when I walk into the shower and think of a happy place. Help...
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posted by jason at 2:18 PM
7 Comments:
suffer, my friend. Mwahahaha!
and what, may I ask, are wizzleteats? Is that some kudzu-induced southern nipple affliction? Or is that some cute euphemism for what you guys like to do to each other back there? Hmmm
Oh I am suffering alright... as much as some of the things that I have to deal with here suck, it is still much better than working, which you should be doing right now. Although I think working in San Diego is better than vacationing in this cess pool.
Wizzleteats, hmmmm. It is a game us Southern boys like to play with sheep. I will leave it at that for you to figure it out. Let your imagination run wild and you will probably come close to the truth.
Actually, back in the early 90's there was a cartoon called Ren and Stimpy that touched me on a personal level, mostly due to my immaturity, and Stinky Wizzleteats was a recurring character on said show. For some reason that is the first name that popped into my head when coming up with a name.
Ok, I am going to go swimming. Have fun working! HAHAHAHAHAHHA
Ren and Stimpy. A chihuahua and a big dumb thing, right? Can't remember if they're both dogs. Seem to recall a lot of farting, too. Hmmmm. Portentious, or merely noteworthy?
Almost right, it was a chihuahua and a cat. Sure there were a lot of fart jokes, but the really funny things were social commentaries on modern life, that and some truly absurd stuff.
Are you kidding? I have never slept or read so much in my entire life. Not that those particular things are bad, but a week of it? I am actually ready to go home. I don't love the beach as much as I used to.
It may have something to do with the fact that I am in danger of turning gay from seeing 80 year old women in white thread-bare bathing suits strutting their stuff around the beach.
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