An Award From The Minute Man's Wife and Unbridled Insanity

And by god damned it, I'm back and seething with such ungodly friggin' rage, I'm gonna park my small car after just having gone to the bar parking lot for some excitement, stick pickles up my ass, while using a sawzall on my penis head, all the while using a penis pump, beforehand, (to get my junk- Grade A- good n' hard, ya know) while having a crooked neck giraffe give me a deep anal lickin' and have it topped off with the spiritually uplifting rim job of a lifetime from an anteater at the zoo.

Woo Fucking Hoo! and pass the fucking Valium after I go really crazy and drink a cup of shitty, chemical-tasting decaffeinated coffee. What in the fuck is decaffeinated coffee for? Don't give me any of that bullshit like "It's for people who enjoy the taste of coffee but are afraid of the staying awake a couple hours past their wussy bedtime". Fuck that! Grow a set of balllllllssss or flabby pussy lips, depending on your gender! That shit ain't coffee!!! That shit defeats the goddamn purpose of drinking god damned coffee!!! Excuse me here for a split second while I chop some fucker's head off and wear it on my rigid, cheerfully erect pecker (reference to the book, American Psycho) while I pour myself a god damned fresh cup of REAL COFFEE.

So... how have you guys been? Good? Ah, that's nice.

So, yeah, I'm back one more time until something eventually falls from the sky and caves my head in. I wonder what it will be? A meteor. I can handle that. A hundred pounds of frozen waste from an airplane going overhead? That would be like a fly gently floating by my ear and cutting a fart. Hardly noticeable.

Fuck, I'm so fucking shell shocked by recent events, nothing could be a surprise. Actually, when nothing at all worrisome is happening to the wife and I and all is cool and all is right- that's when I begin to worry. If my life suddenly begins to transform into something resembling almost harmonious, take fucking cover, immediately! That will be the true sign of the Apocalypse! Fuck that old idiot, Camping and his Rapture. Buddy, I got your Rapture right here!

But things are starting to head in the right direction. If nothing else occurs, I will be 60% satisfied. That's equivalent, to some fuckers that have a hard on or wetty for that most dreaded of made up percentages, that some like to say out loud, in a sad attempt to impress- and that would be "110%". Take your 110% and shove it way up your ass with your decaffeinated coffee you superficial, motherfuckin', crooked neck, rim job lickin' stain from a rancid pussy fart!

No, not you, my friend. The guy or girl behind you.

Sorry. Where did I hide my mind again? Ohhh yeahhhh...

Did you know that Winnie The Pooh, Rabbit and Tigger violated Piglet in all of his orifices, so brutally, until his colon eventually fell out onto the ground where it was eaten by all of the rest of the crack-addicted Hundred Acre Wood critters? Well, it's true. It's says so in the bible. It's the start of the Rapture, in fact! You're welcome for the heads up.

While on a much needed sabbatical, three (and possibly a fourth one on the way) bloggers acted as guest posters.

Mrs. Pickle from the blog, Pickles In My Ass, The Wolf, from the blog, The S.N.A.F.U Report and Pickleope from the blog, Pickleope.com have all been generous enough to give of their unique talents and be my guest posters for the last couple of weeks. I thank all of you for your support, time and well-written and often, extremely hilarious, posts. In my tirade, at the beginning of this post, I think you might have noticed a little referencing to their posts in a somewhat genial way.

You guys really know how to make me laugh out loud while sticking my pecker in a pickle slicer.

I also want to thank genuine supporter and thoughtful blogger, The Minute Man's Wife, for the Good Bloggers Pay It Forward Award, while I was away. I've connected with her the last several months, at a sympathetic, supportive level in the blogging community in a way that I feel honestly appreciative for. She's one of the nicest of nicest people that you'll ever have the pleasure of interacting with. The Minute Man's Wife gave me, a crazy bastard, who has a heart of gold, filled with flesh-eating maggots, this award for being supportive. I am grateful and touched by this.

Amazed? Choking on a drink, suddenly? You shouldn't be. Not only am I swell but I'm modest as hell, too. Yep.

Take a gander at The Minute Man's Wife's blog, but please remember, no sex toys allowed while visiting.

Look to your extreme right. It's already there with the rest of my awards.

Oh dear lord almighty, have I just been blessed again? Easy rules for this award! Hooray!

The rules for this particular award are, thankfully, weep-worthingly easy.

1) Tell everyone who gave you the award. (I did)

2) Put up a link to their blog. (Done)

3) Pay it Forward to five more bloggers. (Going to)

In no particular order, here are the five bloggers, in my opinion, in the past, who have exemplified support, which the award is supposed to represent:

(1) Rebecca (The Snee) from the blog, The Sometimes, Never, Eventually Express

(2) Gary, from the blog, klahanie

(3) LilPixi, from the blog, It's a Lollipop world

(4) GEM, from the blog, the modern day spinster

(5) Last but not least, Mrs. Pickle, from the blog, Pickles In My Ass

Be sure to check them out or you'll get the lash!

Now this isn't to say the rest of you have not been supportive and secretly or not so secretly wish me a slow, torturous death involving me being naked, with my nuts, honey coated and ready to be torn away by the sharp teeth of rabid rodents. Besides, I don't wash my scrotum but once every leap year. Ah Ha!

I do this to keep the rodents away and because I like the sticky, pasty feeling so much. Plus, it's for the sake of any house guests who come over every so often for my famous homemade putrid cheese dip.

Where was I? Oh, yes.

I want to thank the rest of you for your support by way of commenting on my blog while I was gone, just visiting and for all the other interactions on the Internet. You know who you are. You guys have been great. Thank you!

Don't forget to take home some of my homemade cheese dip before you leave. It's deeeeelish! But whatever you do, don't drink decaffeinated coffee.

Take care, my friends!

Heartwarming Memories of the Zoo

A quick introduction: Your guest poster today is Pickleope (proprietor of Pickleope.com). In honor of a culture predicated on combining two existing commodities (we’re looking at you, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies or Cowboys and Aliens or Paula Deen Riding Things) a Pickleope is the unholy combination of a pickle and an antelope. 

Shameless self-promotion section over.

As you know and as he has explained, Kelly is a bit preoccupied with the rigors of life (The speculation that he’s laying low after Bin Laden was taken out is probably not true. More likely he’s busy scouring the internet for all bloggers using “pickle” in the title. What’s up Mrs. Pickle! No relation.) And so he is unable to spin magical verbal yarns for our entertainment. Instead he has bestowed upon us the pleasure of weaving our words on his blog like something akin to the blankets Christopher Columbus handed out (enjoy your smallpox).

On to the nonsense!

We like to generally keep things clean over at the church-like hallowed grounds of our website. And we’d like to take this great opportunity to clean up this den of depravity with some touching, family stories from the zoo. What could be sweeter than frolicking animals in captivation...well maybe a baby with Clint Howard’s head riding Steve Buscemi bareback around a mud pit where Kathy Bates is giving Stephen Hawkins a lap dance while a Spin Doctors song plays. Yep, that would be sweeter, but this is close.

Get your “Awwwww” faces on, because we’re about to stuff some “cute” in your ass.

The following stories are all true.

In the Houston Zoo, they house the anteater and tapir together. 

The enclosure kind of looked like this...except without the mountains, the extract bottle...the  guy from a cult in the corner...well basically without anything except the two animals.

On this visit, the tapir was laying on its side when our curious anteater came strutting up to the tapir. The anteater without pretense or foreplay went straight to tossing the tapir’s salad. It was a thing of beauty, using its ant-digging nail and ant-slurping tongue to get all up in there. And the tapir loved it. But after a few minutes, the tapir grew tired of this lavish treatment some people pay a lot of money for...a LOT of money...like enough to make Greece solvent (not that we've looked into it or made phone calls or put an ad on CraigsList or anything). So after getting what we can only imagine was the best rimming of its life, the tapir gets up and starts trying to bite the anteater’s tail (probably out of shame). The anteater is just trying to strut away, but the tapir keeps coming at him. The anteater finally turns and gives the tapir a swift pimp-like backhand. Moral of the story: Enjoy any good consensual tonguing, butt or otherwise or you risk swift retribution for not appreciating such a delightful gift.

We’ll skip the story of the ape eating its own poop and maybe the one about the otter swimming on its back and peeing in its own mouth (both also true) in favor of a sweet underdog tale.

At the Santa Barbara zoo, they harbored a magical freak-of-a-beast known by its simple yet descriptive moniker: the Crooked Neck Giraffe.  

Must have been hell on the mother in delivery.

Our handi-giraffe was more than a misfit. It was an entertainer. On this day, an able-necked giraffe began sniffing at the crooked-neck giraffe’s urine stream and apparently this urine smelled and tasted like wine because that straight-necked giraffe could not get enough. When the stream stopped, the straight-necked calmly walked over to the feeding perch and slurped food off the hands of children who were all-too-happy to have the urine-soaked tongue slobber all over them (and their golden shower fetish was born).

Awwwwwwww. Isn’t it cute how the misfit got revenge by having sweet tasting wee-wee? That’s how that Cher movie, Mask, ended isn’t it? Eric Stoltz just peed in the bikers' mouths, right?

Aren’t animals the cutest? Hopefully we did a serviceable job in in his place and hopefully Kelly recovers from his pump incident (that is who yesterday’s post was about, right?).

~Pickleope