on the blog

i’m apologizing in advance for the mental image you’re about to get

So in the wee hours of the morning on Tuesday, I hit the Georgia state line on my trek from Maryland to Florida.  I had been driving nonstop all night and it was time to get out, massage my butt cheeks, and stock up on more energy drinks to finish the drive.   There it was, in the distance, the gas station, a beacon of convenience in the darkness of the early-morning I-95 corridor.  Unbeknownst to me, that gas station would change my life forever.

As I was taking a few minutes to stretch my legs while my car was filling with gas, I cleaned the remnants of my road trip snacks out of my car, and looked for a trash can.  Hmm.  No trash can in sight.  I started walking around the side of the gas station to find some sort of trash receptacle, when I walked right into it:  sexual congress between two vagrants, happening in the grease pit that is the rear lot of any gas station.  BUT WAIT IT GETS BETTER.

In that split second between when you walk in on something you’re not supposed to walk in and when your body catches up with your brain and decides to turn the fuck around and boogie the hell on out of there, I saw that this homeless man had his homeless girlfriend knees-to-the-sky and was penetrating her with


I will give you a moment to process that information.

Okay… A CORN DOG?  Fleh.  Mergle.  Flerfignoogle.  That’s all I’ve got.  Just sounds.  Words fail me.

I’m not going to lie, this was absolutely my first thought:

Look, I’m not judging, I’m really not.  Lord knows I have done some freaky shit and I fully support a person or couple doing whatever they need to keep things spicy.  I just… ?  I mean, just… it actually boggles my mind in the same way a really awesome magic trick would– A simple act that creates questions.  Questions like:

1.  Does he not have a penis?

2.  In what fucked up world would one rather see your lady’s vagina eat a corn dog than see your own mouth eat it?

3.  You’re homeless; maybe you shouldn’t be taking that meal-on-a-stick for granted, buddy.

4.  What food is going to replace the #6 position on my Favorite Foods list now that I can never eat a fucking corn dog again?

assuaging my american guilt

The other day my mom asked me what time we should do our Thanksgiving festivities.  I say, Maybe three o’clock?  That way the kids are all lethargic from the tryptophan all evening and will chill out  instead of the normal screaming-heathen routine.  Then she tells me that the tryptophan thing has been scientifically proven to be false.  Turns out that we get all drowsy because we just ate 27 pounds of food.

First of all: whoa.  That study sounds like an excuse for some labcoat guys to overeat and lie around.  Do they really get paid to study that??  Those labcoat guys could be studying something useful, like sustainable agriculture or why Kirsten Dunst is a such a bad actress.

Secondly: not cool, labcoat guys, not cool — You just took away my foolproof excuse to be a total lazy fatass on Thanksgiving.

I mean sure, I’ll probably still do the total lazy fatass thing on Thanksgiving, but now I’ll feel (a very tiny bit) guilty about it.  Before, I had a scientific reason to be on the couch for nine hours at a stretch, and now all I can blame is my American upbringing!  Which, I am totally not bagging on American upbringings.  Well maybe a little but that does not mean I am not still totally in love with our lifestyle of excess.  Does it suck that there are millions of starving people in the world?  Yes.  But I can’t feel TOO guilty about it because I had no choice in where I was born.  I am the privileged sperm of a privileged sperm of a privilege sperm.  So:  A.) Not my fault, and  2.) Thanks Great Grandpa Seamus! Sorry the boat ride sucked!

But I digress.

Of course I am thankful we will have an assload of food to eat tomorrow, even if the food won’t drug my children to give me a couple hours of peace and quiet.  Maybe as a gesture of my sympathy for those who aren’t so lucky, I will roast a couple of the labcoat guys on a spit, box ’em up and send ’em over to the eternally starving millions.  If we did that with all the overpaid, useless people here in America, it would bring an end to world hunger!