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11:02 p.m. - 2007-12-08

DO YOU REALLY NEED A TITLE FOR THIS GARBAGE?

I made an observation about myself tonight.

I was doing this Christmas party for this company this evening (just wanted to see if I could get three "this"s in 11 words ... DID IT!!) and I got on the microphone to bring some corporate bigwig up to receive his present from his employees that everyone was forced to pony up $10 or so for him so he could feed his fucking ego some more.

"Look at me honey! My employees LOVE me! They got me some golf balls!"

Anyway ... I'm gettin' on the microphone and I say (and this is a quote here):

"Awwwwww ... if I could get Bob up here ... Bob? Bob, c'mon up here for a special presentation!"

Here's my observation ...

EVERY SINGLE TIME I get on the microphone these days, no matter WHAT I say, I say "Awwwww" in front of it.

Not "Awwww" like "Oh isn't that the cutest little kitten? Awwwwww."

"Awwww" like Paul Stanley from KISS about to say "AWWWWWWW-RIGHT!!!"

I always say "Awwwww" and then lead into whatever the hell I'm going to say.

I don't do that in everyday conversation.

Only when I'm using a microphone at intervals.

I think that at one point in my life, that's how I tested to make sure the mic was on and I would be heard properly by the audience.

"Awwww yeah! How's everybody doing?"

Now I JUST CAN'T FUCKING STOP DOING IT!!!

Who the hell do I think I am?!? Chuck D. from Public Enemy???

(For those of you not familiar with Chuck D. from Public Enemy, he tends to say "Awwww yeah" an awful lot before he starts boasting about the size of his penis or whatever the hell he's rapping about. I love the band ... I just can't follow what that guy's saying. He raps way too fast for my ears to follow)

People have GOT to be unnerved by this.

I bet they're out there on the dance floor and they spot me going near the mic and think to themselves "Here comes another fucking awwwwww again."

Jesus!!

I must stop doing this ASAP.


I'm writing this at 11:08 on a Saturday night.

This is the only time I can find anymore to write. I think. I don't know. I just don't think about writing much anymore.

And with award-winning fucking entries like this one, I bet you're all in a state of shock over THAT revelation.

Shit!

Type something interesting!


As I was ejaculating into my wife's vagina this afternoon, a thought went through my head.

"Please don't get pregnant."

"Please don't get pregnant," I grunted as the last wad of semen was sent propelling into her ovaries.

"What?!?" she asked.

"Please don't get pregnant," I said in a much clearer tone of voice, sans grunting.

"What the hell kind of thing is THAT to say??" she said. "Was that supposed to make me all warm and fuzzy?"

"Just ... don't get pregnant. That's all. Enjoy my spermies all you want now ... just don't let your eggs get a hold of them."

The old ball and chain has been off the pill for a while now. She said it was making her depressed or puffy or bloated or seasick or something. I don't know. I ain't got time to listen to EVERYTHING the woman says.

Sheesh already!

But after I said that and she got out of the bed with my seed dripping out of her coochie and onto the sheets it dawned on me.

NEVER have I been more frightened of getting someone pregnant until now.

When I was a teenager and having sex with anyone who'd say "Sure. I'll have sex with you", I'd always use a condom and by golly ... that was that.

It was a condom.

Those are used to protect against pregnancy.

Or at least they were back then.

Now you use them so your dick doesn't rot off after you skank-a-dank a ho-bag.

Alas ... I'm middle aged now and I usually only have sex with my wife of 20 years.

(I say "usually" because there is one fetching young pillow on our living room sofa that every now and then gives me the "C'mon man ... nobody's home ... do me now" look that I simply cannot resist. Damned pillow!)

So I start telling the Mrs. all about how I have no idea what the hell I'd do if she were to get pregnant now.

And then the whole "You COULD go get a vasectomy!" issue comes up like fucking clockwork.

And then I just wanna slap her but I don't hit women (much) and that wouldn't work.

Plus, she's got a box full of my seedlings at this point and that'd be kinda tacky if I whupped upside her head while she's carrying my potential child.

Yeah.

So ... recap ... I didn't give two shits about getting teenagers pregnant 27 years ago but the thought of my wife pregnant scares the bejeezus out of me.


I did the coolest thing this week.

On the old lady's side of the family, we draw names at Christmas.

I got one of my nephews' names.

Some of you oldtimers here may remember this nephew as one of the infamous "Knee-humpers" from several hundred entries ago.

Anyway, the kid's 20 now and in college.

And he provides me with a list of musical artists in order for me to peruse said list and purchase him a CD or two for Christmas.

I look at the list.

There's like 150 musical acts on this list.

Shit was givin' me a headache just reading it.

As I'm reading it, a light bulb went off over my head. Well ... not really, but I had a good idea. I was just trying to make you think that light bulbs go off over my head every now and then. Were ya fooled?? Huh?!?

I thought "What if I just burned him some CDs of some of the artists he's asking for?"

Stuff like The Eagles, Pink Floyd, Kanye West ... shit that he asked for and I actually already had.

THEN another light bulb went off over my head!

(Fooled THAT time?? Shit! I've gotta get better at fooling your ass!)

Actually ... long story short since I had a shitload of ideas at this point ... I made him about 30 CDs that he asked for.

And THEN I made him 70 more CDs.

And these 70 other CDs were nothing but classic albums.

Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band

Pet Sounds

Hotel California

Classic CDs.

I bought him a nice 100 CD case and VOILA!

One hundred classic CDs.

I hope he appreciates the effort I put into this damned project. I worked on it every spare moment I had recently.

I mean ... I don't want him appreciating it so much that he humps my knee or anything.

You're 20 years old man!

Quit rubbing the sausage on my kneecap!!


That's it kids.

I'm tired and obviously in need of sleep.

Peace out to your bad self.

AWWWWWW YEAH!!

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