GOAT SHIT BRINGS OUT THE ANIMAL IN ME

I chopped all my hair off yesterday.

Well...not ALL of it. I'm not 16 years old, shaving my head bald so people think I'm Eminem or anything.

But I cut about three inches off.

Well...IIII didn't cut it off. Karen, the woman who's cut my hair for the last few years cut it off.

My hairdresser and I are finally getting the bond I think a person should have with their hairdresser. We gossiped about a former fellow employee of mine who is basically a slut and currently humping Karen's ex.

I had no idea the woman was a slut. I knew she was a pill-popping drunk, so I threw my two cents in on that one. Karen didn't know that. So we both walked away with fresh knowledge about this woman.

I'd nail Karen if I wasn't married.

I didn't TELL her that. I think that woulda thrown a monkey wrench into the whole "bonding" thing.

But...truth be told...I think she'd nail me too.

She seems like a woman who wouldn't hesitate to climb under the sheets with your Uncle Bob.

My God...I need some caffeine before I ramble myself into some real deep waters.

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Well ... there's no caffeine in this house. A&W Root Beer has no caffeine. I'm outta Cokes. And the only chocolate in the house is ice cream and Nutri-Grain Muffin Squares which has about as much chocolate in it as spaghetti sauce does.

Sooo...pardon me if I get a little rude here today.

Because I'm not eating a bowl of ice cream at 5 a.m. just to keep me from rambling about fucking strange women.

Sorry.

Your loss.

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I had to go to the Zoo yesterday to take pictures of rich housewives who have nothing better to do with their time than write letters to recruit new members to the Zoo.

For $40 a year, you can become a member of the Zoo.

What does that get you??

Beats the fuck outta me.

Apparently, you get to walk around town saying "Well, you know...I have money to just throw away so I decided to become a member of the Zoo."

You STILL have to pay to get in.

You STILL have to smell the stench of hot goat shit on a scorching summer afternoon.

You STILL have to watch monkeys masturbate because they haven't yet learned how to fight uncontrollable urges.

I think that if you pay forty bucks to become a member of the zoo, the LEAST they could do is let you in free every time you want to come out and stare at animals, give you little filters for your nostrils so hot goat shit smells like roses and masturbating chimps can be locked up from the moment you walk in the gates until the moment you leave.

And you should get free popcorn.

BUT...I'm not a member of the Zoo, so my thoughts don't count.

Anyway...I dig rich housewives. Granted, they all think they're better than you because they get to huff on hot goat shit more often than you ...

...But dayummmm...they're some hot mamas.

There was this one woman yesterday ... Marie....

Before I go any further...I have a ....well...it's not really a fetish. I just happen to find petite blondes in their early 40s attractive.

Don't ask me why.

Okay...go ahead and ask me why.

I'll tell you why.

Because they're in their sexual prime at that age.

They KNOW how to make love.

I'd take a 40-year-old over an 18-year-old ANY day.

Okay...I know I have a lot of young women reading this diary. No offense girls...but you DON'T know how to fuck yet.

You may think you do. You may have been complimented several times in the past on your fucking abilities.

But those compliments are coming from young boys who would fuck a tree if it meant they'd pop a nut.

There's something about a woman in her sexual prime...she works HARD to get her rocks off.

And she KNOWS how to get it.

Anyway...enough of that.

Marie was HOT. Tight jeans...tanned...crow's feet...mirror sunglasses.

You could just TELL her husband makes a lot of money and started ignoring her sexually years ago.

So ...we all get in this golf cart thing they use to travel around the zoo in, and Marie takes a seat next to me.

No big deal. I've learned to control myself over the years so that I don't start instantly pawing her and rubbing my groin against her thigh.

SHE strikes up a conversation.

"So ... you're going to be a daddy?" she asks.

HOLY SHIT!!! THIS WOMAN READS MY COLUMN!!!

The blood started stirring in my groin. My first reaction was to nail her right there on the golf cart. Luckily...I have the ability to show restraint.

"Yeah...November 9th," I said.

"Babies are great," she said.

"Yeah," I countered. "We've been trying for 12 years."

"You wanna try for ten more minutes behind the monkey cage," she says, reaching over and rubbing my groin.

"Aren't you married," I asked.

"Yes. And he's very rich. But I don't think he can satisfy me like YOUR BIG THROBBING LOVE HAMMER can," she says.

"Okay," I said. "Ever since you sat down next to me 45 seconds ago, I've really wanted to nail you."

"Ohmigod," she gasped. "You just made me moist."

"Yes, I'm sure of it," I smiled. "I have a way with women in their early 40s."

She leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"You and me, baby ain't nothin' but mammals," she whispered, sticking the tip of her tongue in my ear canal.

"So let's do it like they do on the Discovery Channel," I suggested.

"Let's!" she said, removing her tight jeans and straddling my crotch while we cruised past the alligator pit.

At that point, I came back to my senses and realized I was daydreaming again. We finished talking about children until we arrived at the offices.

"It was nice to meet you," she said.

"Nice to meet you," I wittily countered and then added "Keep reading my column. It's bound to get better eventually."

She laughed a throaty little laugh. "I will," she said, smiling and staring at me over her mirrored sunglasses.

I walked to my car, fighting the compulsion to get in, strap on my seatbelt and whacking it right there in the parking lot.

Luckily...as I pointed out earlier...I have restraint.

How obvious is it that I haven't got laid in a while??

Christ....I need some caffeine.

QUESTION OF THE DAY

WHO WAS THE LAST STRANGER THAT YOU RAN INTO THAT YOU SECRETLY WANTED TO NAIL?