Guess who’s
nominated in the “Most Likely to Piss People Off Blog” category over at the
Indie Chick’s 2014 Badass Blog Awards?
So come on
over and show me some love.
Let people
know that it’s okay to think outside the box, that it’s okay to go against the
grain and that it’s okay to let your freak flag fly high and proud.
There’s no
need to be embarrassed and/or lazy, just follow the link below and vote for the
Insane Asylum, no one will ever know and I promise you won’t even break a
sweat.
I need a
way to make some extra money, preferably something legal because I don’t want
to end up in jail as someone’s bitch.
I thought
about hitting the pole and trying my hand at being a stripper, but then I
thought who would want to see a chunky white guy in Daisy Dukes dry humping the
air and smacking an imaginary ass in the process.
Not only
that but I’m extremely white, and we all know what “they” say about us
crackers, and no I’m not talking about the tiny pee pee thing, because that couldn't be any more of a fallacy…am I right white people **nervously looks
around**.
I’m
referring to the whole no rhythm thing, which in my case is totally true; I
can’t even walk down the hallway without bumping into a wall or two along the
way.
I would
come to the stage to some sleazy tongue-in-cheek rock song, sporting a name like
White Chocolate or Third Leg Greg, something to get the chicks (and the
genetically enhance straight men aka the gays) all hot and bothered.
Tassels
hanging from my nipples as if I was a fancy chandelier, and gyrating my body as
if I was in a spin cycle to make them swing like a windmill, and most likely
smacking myself in the eye with them due to my awkward demeanor.
This in
turn would leave me stumbling to the pole as if I was Helen Keller, the whole
time hoping for a miracle worker, but instead ending up with a performance that
was best suited for “America’s Funniest Videos” rather than a strip club.
Then that
is where the fantasy would end, I would go to jump on the pole, wrapping my
legs on top trying to be all sexy, only to slide down it landing flat on my
back.
I would
have fallen and not been able to get “it” up **huh huh**, actually that’s not
funny, because I would have a hurt back and no dollar bills in my G-string to
show for it.
Due of my “big
bones”, and loads of body glitter, I would end up looking like a disco ball
rolling around the stage crying out in pain, and who in their right minds wants
that.
I also don’t
know if one could collect workers' comp for falling off of a stripper pole, so
why risk it.
So
obviously stripping is not in my future, not unless people want to see some fat
naked white guy sitting on a chair bobbing his head and tapping his foot to the
music while slowly shedding his clothing as if he was a snake shedding its
skin.
The dreaded
“N-word” the only ethnic slur that is so powerful and potent that people avoid
speaking its name, as if the mere mention of it would bring upon pure hatred
and ultimate evil amongst the masses.
A word that
is not like any other, it is a true double-edged sword, when spoken by a select
few under certain circumstances it could be considered a term of endearment, a
sign of camaraderie, but when spoken out of anger it becomes a dagger that
pierces the heart of the intended target and makes him/her feel less of a
person.
The phrase,
“Sticks and stones will break my bones but words will never hurt me” obviously does not hold true, at least not
when it comes to this word and the pain it could cause when used by ignorant
hate-filled people.
The word is
muttered behind closed doors, where people feel safe from any repercussions
and/or retaliation as a result of doing so, in a sense they feel as if they are
breaking some kind of unwritten law when it crosses their lips.
Now I don’t
personally think that everyone who uses this word is a racist.
Sometimes,
I think that people don’t realize how horrific this word is and what it could
do in the wrong hands, they just do so without thinking and/or concern with who
they may hurt in the process.
I’m white,
so white that I’m almost transparent, so I can’t pretend to understand the
magnitude of devastation this word has caused over the years, all the people it
has hurt and why it holds the power it does.
To me, it
is nothing more than hateful garbage that has no purpose in our world,
completely meaningless and totally insignificant in the grand scheme of things.
But then
again, as I said prior, I am white and never had to feel the sting of such a
word.
I won’t sit
here and tell you I’ve never used the word because that would be a lie, but I
will do my best to avoid using it at any and all costs in the future, because
it is not something that should be taken lightly, regardless of which ethnicity
you are.
But I can
honestly tell you I’ve never used it in a hateful manner, only in a mindless
joking kind of way, which by the way does not make it any better but I’m just
being truthful here.
The bottom line
is this, we as whites don’t understand just how deep this word cuts, the damage
it has done and will do moving forward, and so as with all forms of hate speech
we need to remove it from our vocabulary and let it die the death it deserves.
Kiss Ass - this one is obvious, these people
walk around with their lips permanently glued to another’s ass, most of the
time it is the ass of a person they look up to, want to be with and/or want to
be, in a strange deranged stalker kind of way.
Tight Ass - I’m not talking about someone who
has buns of steel here, but rather someone whose ass is so tight that it
squeaks when they walk, they have no sense of humor whatsoever and spend all
their time trying to hinder everyone else’s good time.
Wet Ass – After dropping the kids off at
the pool, or taking a dump for you less than civilized people, and not wiping
properly thus leaving debris in the hole and causing the victim to walk around
like he/she just got off of a horse, the end result is shit stains in their
underwear and a wicked rash.
Ass Face – When someone is so hideous that
their face looks like an ass, and not a nice firm plump ass either, but rather
a hairy greasy pimply fat ass, like something you would see peeking out of the
pants of a stereotypical plumber or Rosie O' Donnell.
Asshole – When someone is a dick for no
apparent reason, they go around causing havoc and making people’s life
miserable just because they can, these screwballs actually get pleasure from
being a complete tool bag.
Eating Assushi – The eating of an ass, of course
not literally because that would be morbid, but using your tongue to lick the
puckered brown starfish as if it was a lollipop, chocolate of course.
Asstacular – When an individual has such an
amazing ass that you can’t help but to stare, and touch, but be careful with
the touching because unless the person is a freak you may end up with sore
jewels and/or even in jail time.
Ass Blast – Deliberately shooting gas out of
your ass with the hopes of being obnoxious and extremely disgusting all for a
good laugh, the whole time trying not to shit yourself in the process, because then
the laugh would be on you.
Ass Neck – When someone is so fat that the
back of their neck looks like an ass, and depending on the person, it may also
smell like one too.
Talking Out Your Ass – When someone says something that makes
absolutely no sense whatsoever, complete and utterly buffoonery is spewing from
their head hole, the shit they are talking stinks more than a nice juicy fart.
Asshat – When someone’s head is so far up
their ass it is as if they are wearing it as a hat, these people act like
complete idiots and are totally unaware that they are different than us normal
people.
Well there
you have it people, a whole lot of ass terms that you may or may not have been
familiar with. Sure there are more, but being the lazy bastard I am, this is all I had the energy for.
When I die
I want my eulogy to be given by a rapper, preferably someone crazy like Eminem
or Lil' Wayne, with backup vocals by Rihanna, that would be sure to get the party
started.
When I die
I want my coffin to be filled with punch, with me in it, giving a whole new
meaning to “spiking the punch”.
When I die
I would require people to come to my funeral dressed as their favorite
character from The Walking Dead, they could take pictures with my lifeless body
as if I was a zombie, and if they so felt the need to complete the illusion
they could even stab me in the head.
When I die I
want to be buried faced down ass up, that way as they are lowering me into the
ground I can tell them all to kiss my ass.
When I die I
don't want to be buried like everyone else; I want to be propped up on the
front lawn as if I was a scarecrow, with glow sticks glued into my hands so on
a windy night I would look to be raving.
When I die
I don't want my funeral be a sad and somber place, I want it to be upbeat and
loads of fun, instead of pallbearers I want puppeteers who would work my corpse
as if I was in Weekend at Bernie's.
When I die
I want pictures taken of me in my coffin, throwing up gang signs or deuces, then
have the picture put on a postcard all sent to all my enemies with the line,
"wish you were here" written on it.
When I die I
want to be put into a stew and served to all my loved ones, that way we could
be together forever, or at least until they went to the bathroom.
When I die I
want an open casket at the viewing, with me being buck naked inside, that way, of
course after rigor mortis sets in, all the girls can see exactly what they
missed out on.
When I die I
want my body to be burnt and my ashes mixed with the finest marijuana money can
buy, to be smoked by all my loved ones so that they can experience all my awesomeness
even after I’m gone.
When I die I
want to be buried in my back yard to see if another one of me would grow, of
course it would need to be fertilized with straight crap and lots of alcohol,
but if everything works out as planned it would all be worth it in the end.
When I die I
want to be buried with a hot dead babe, that way I would never be alone, and if
by some crazy chance I did come back as a zombie I would have a built-in friend
with benefits, that I could eat afterwards.
When I die
I want to come back as a ghost, not one that haunts houses, but rather one that
haunts the locker room of a women’s beach volleyball team.
When I die
I want my tombstone to come equipped with a built-in HD television, so that way
it would give people a reason to stop by and stay for a while, but no porn
channels because I wouldn’t want some nasty bitches dropping their seed in my
flower bed.
When I die
I want a rumor started saying my passing was because I didn’t forward a chain
email, really scare the shit out of the stupid people.
When I die
I want to be buried in a coffin shaped like a vibrator, because you know, just
in case God really is a she.
The world
of blogging is very boring, uneventful and totally lame-o (sorry for the harsh
language).
Something
needs to be done to change that, we need to spice, and shake, things up…yeah I
went there.
We should
make it more like the gangsta rap game, but instead of the whole East
coast-West coast rivalry, we could do something like mommy bloggers vs. humor
bloggers…word.
I would
call myself 2 Ply, because I’m white and handle more shit than toilet paper,
and I would drop more dope blogs than a drunken waitress with vertigo drops
dishes yo.
My gang
sign would be one hand over the other, like as if I was playing slaps with
myself, forget the bat signal, punks better beware when they see the 2 ply sign
go up in the air fool.
We all know
the pen is mightier than the sword, it’s an ink filled gat mother fugger, rat-tat-tat-tat
tat ta tat like that, and I never hesitate to put a blogger on his back…okay
sure we don’t use pens, but you get the picture.
I would start
smoking the chronic as if I was Dr. Dre, burning more trees than a forest fire,
turn my keyboard into a bong and call it Puff the Magic Dragon because that’s
how I roll homie.
I would put
hydraulics and spinning rims on my desk chair, this would help me feel more
hood like when I laid down my flow, showing all those bitches and bastards just
how gangsta I truly am when I spit my blogs.
I would even
come up with my own dance, something cool like the Stanky Leg or the Superman, every
blogger would be doing it and all the haters would be cursing my name because the
wannabes are green with envy.
We could
use different color fonts to show our allegiance to our respected gangs, or
clicks if you want to be all Hollywood, and anyone caught blogging in the wrong
color would get dealt with, proper like.
My blogs
would be going platinum so fast that all those other bloggers wouldn’t know
what hit them; my blog would look like a jewelry store with more bling than Nelly’s
grill, while theirs looked like a flea market.
Hoes from
every area code would be reading my shit, making my Google AdSense account rain
like a monsoon, drinking champagne and eating caviar while you other scrub ass
bloggers are drinking a 40oz Olde English and wondering where your next meal was
coming from.
I would write
the blogging equivalent as such rap masterpieces as “Peanut Butter Jelly Time”
from The Buckwheat Boyz or “Because I Got High” from Afroman…I was going to
blog but then I got high, now I’m browsing Facebook and liking everything I see
and I know why, cause I got high, because I got high, because I got high.
I am going
to be the king of the mountain, standing on Mount Rushmore, while all you other
freaks are traveling underground like a bunch of angst-ridden mole people.
Deuces, I’m
outtie like a belly button, better wear a vest because it’s pop pop like some
rolled up bubble wrap up in here, forget ballin’ we straight blogging playa.
Ass, the
other white meat (or dark depending on your preference)?
A friend of
mine tried to sell me on eating ass, letting me know how erotic and sensual it
could be. How it added some extra spice (and that spice is also known as fecal
matter) to the whole love making experience, kicked it up a notch as if it was Emeril
Lagasse. **Bam**
Now when I
say eating ass, I don’t mean like Hannibal Lecter with some fava beans and a
nice Chianti. I mean getting all up in there as if you were in a chocolate pie
eating contest. Tonguing it like an anteater would an anthill. Get the picture?
I’m not trying
to knock someone’s good time here, or be an asshole (don’t eat me), I just
don’t get it myself. I can’t comprehend why someone would want to eat ass
and/or have their ass eaten, but to each their own.
Eating ass
the epitome of dirty dining! You won't go to a restaurant because you heard
there's a roach, but you're perfectly fine with eating ass? These people won't
let dogs lick their face because as they say, “they know where their tongue has
been” but at the same time don't mind letting their tongue go spelunking down
someone’s dark and dirty cave!
I do know that
you won’t ever catch me eating it! I don’t care how fine it is and/or who it’s
attached to, just knowing the shit (and I mean that literally) that comes out
of it is enough to make me keep my distance. You do know that the book,
“Everyone Poops” isn’t a work of fiction, right?
I also
wouldn’t feel comfortable having someone eat mine. I would be too freaked out.
I would be worried they would come up with a shit mustache and/or with corn in
their teeth trying to give me a kiss. I would have imaginations of becoming a
real life human centipede, which would haunt me every time I was a participant
on Naked and Afraid.
Not only
that, but what if your pipes were clogged, something so fierce that not even
Liquid Plumber could fix? The job requires a snake (which in this case is the
tongue), and with the first sign of penetration everything would come gushing
out like a puss from a popped pimple. Taking “talking shit” to a whole new
level, one that it doesn’t need to be on and absolutely something that should
never be witnessed.
You’re staring
down the barrel, eye to hole. Cheeks held wide open so there’s nothing to hinder
the shot. Then it happens! You get blasted in the face as if you were Daffy
Duck and you just took a shot from Elmer Fudd to the dome during duck season. I
guess depending on your partner’s diet it could be good for your skin, but just
imagine the smell, the clumps falling down your face like drips from a melting
ice cream cone, and in my opinion a person losing all credibility when they are
seen wearing a crap mask.
You’re now there
with skid marks on your forehead looking like Swamp Thing and smelling like a
public restroom, and if you’re like me your last meal is quickly making its way
back up your esophagus, needlessly to say ruining the moment and completely
killing the mood.
So with
that said, we need to forget about banning drugs and guns, and ban ass eating,
because honestly nothing good can come from it. You should never have to pick a
dingleberry from your teeth, not for any reason. Never mind waterboarding, you want information
from the terrorists; have them get down with some ATM (Ass to mouth).
To paraphrase
the great Whitney Houston, “Butt crack is whack”!
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