“If you’re gunna be dumb, then you gotta be tough…” - Roger Alan Wade 

As I sit here at work, staring at the wall and wondering if Randy Moss has a legitimate chance to break the 2k barrier (125+ yds per game to do so), if Prius drivers know how homo they look and if the fucking douchebags that bought into the “swing dance” fad back in the late 90’s were ever properly beaten for such, I cant help but think I’ve forgotten something today…

Around the time I started day dreaming about pulling Brian Setzer out of his car and slamming a cinder-block onto his head like Reginald Denny, it dawns on me that today is Friday, which means that it’s time for my weekly emasculation.  You win this round Setzer, but once I get done with this shit Im going to Jump, Jive and Wail on your ass.  You, those “In the afterlife” faggots and the “Zoot-suit riot” fucking bastards are all due for an enormous prison-rape, blood for lubrication style beating for the horseshit you guys released. 

1) Watching the birth of one of my friend’s kids…

Child birth is easily the most disgusting thing I’ve seen in my life.  The damage a vagina must encounter from this instance in which the head of the infant tears away placenta and flesh to face the cold world must be substantial.  The huge crimson colored canyon left where the pussy used to belong not only made me regurgitate, but it also made me never look at Sally (the mother) the same way again.  To see this blood and amniotic fluid covered post-fetus being with a long rope attached to its stomach like a H.R. Giger drawing, looked like the most disgusting result of a period ever.

I was told it’s different if I’m the Father…
Yea, its different all right, cause I’d be
the one fucking the flabby-meat puss
once the Mrs. gets her sex drive back…

2) Taking a shit while drunk and nauseous

There I was, defecating not more than 10 centimeters from the bathtub, but somehow my body told me that puking into the pants around my ankles was a better idea.  To make matters worse, this was at a friends house.   I cleaned up by emptying my pants into the toilet, throwing them away and showering.  I spent the rest of the night in a bath-towel, possibly exposing my junk to the rest of the party.

Moral of the story?  If you think you’re going to puke, its better to just
shit in the bathtub.

3)Failing English class in the 8th grade

I’m lazy, like really lazy, like I’ll go out of my way to become lazier.  My teacher told me I was the first person to fail her class in a decade.  The result of failing an 8th grade class means you have to take high school summer school.  As a fun joke, my summer school teacher would make us do weekly book reports on the books she had stocked on her shelves.  The contents of said shelves?  Goosebumps, Sweet Valley High and the Baby Sitters Club.  Even today when I see Francine Pascal’s books at Barnes and Nobles I want to shoot myself in the face when I remember how I pissed away one of my summers writing analysis papers on how Johnny dumping Sarah was like totally wrong to the max.

You tell me whats worse, actually reading these books
or the fact that this was before I had an ISP
and I would memory jerk to some of this stuff…

4) Learning all the words to, and constantly singing the song “Beat It”

My mom has this video of me in 1986 at my birthday party, belting out “Beat It” and even doing air guitar to Eddie Van Halen’s part.  She insists that this is “cute” and uses every opportunity to show this to relatives, friends and neighbors…
Uncle Eddie: So how do you feel about the killing going on in Iraq?
Mom: Iraq?  How about my Son killing this song!!!  Oh,  you dont want to see no blood?  Don’t be a Macho Man!
*Jim places shotgun in mouth*

Pink tucked in t-shirt?  Check
Red “Ribbed for her pleasure” jacket?  Check
Jeri curl that would make Soul Glow jealous? Check
This man is one Bad, Dangerous Thriller…

5) Getting talked into going to a No Doubt concert

Gwen Stefani is easily the single most annoying pop-star of my generation.  She’s what you get if Boy George had Weird Al’s baby.  Back in 1995, this bitch I had a crush on talked me into going to this concert with her and her “friends” (I use that term lightly, because at that age, girls go through friends like they go through tampons, where as I had the same group of 4 friends my whole time in high school). 

 When I bought the ticket, I noticed the headliner was Bush and the Goo Goo Dolls (along with No Doubt obviously) were opening.  This is easily one of my top 5 moments I’m not proud of in my pursuit of puss as a young teen.

Anyway, we get to the concert at America West Arena and No Doubt comes out on stage, playing that shitfuck fiesta of a song “I’m Just a Girl”.  About half way through the song, the band stops and we got to hear a 15 minute rant from Gwen “Figure of an 11 year old boy” Stefani about how women’s rights are suppressed or some shit, but it came out with her saying “because I’m a girl” at the end of every sentence and making no sense at all. 

Upon finishing her pointless rant about women’s rights, which all the ignorant 15 year old girls were amped about, but had no idea about the history of women’s suffrage, she announced the all the guys in the room were going to sing in the lyrics to “I’m Just a Girl”, to make up for all those years of oppression…  She was dead serious about this. 

There I was, standing around, watching just about every male in the audience sing this pathetic colon-blow of a song and shaking my head.  When the emasculation concluded, and the band went about the rest of their musical catalogue, I learned an important lesson.  In 1995, there were no mosh pits at No Doubt concerts, and attempting to start one results in removal from the arena and a phone call to the Phoenix Police Department for a complain of assault and battery.

Gwen, this is what a real concert audience is supposed to look like.
Basically, there is supposed to be blood, carnage and the tearing of flesh…
Just like giving birth.