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orinigally posted during a really shitty month on March 15th 2006

Have you ever had one of those days that made you want to fist yourself out of sheer aggravation? One of those days that seems as if god, or karma, or fate, or whatever is just face fucking you and giggling the entire time? Well that one day has turned into an entire month of being cosmically jizzed on. Of course this month started out great, which was horribly and disgustingly deceptive.

Two days before he headed back to Iraq The Dude and I decided to visit the one place that anyone should visit before they return to a combat zone: The Nudie Bar . This is where the deceptive goodness came into play because any time you can listen to heavy metal and stare at nekkid chicks has to be chalked up as a red letter day of happiness and mild perversion. The only thing that could have possibly made the nudie better was if they served burritos and beer. I will never understand, however, what most men are thinking when they go into a strip club. They sit there like zombies with hard-ons hoping that if they stare hard enough, and long enough, their jedi powers will take over and the girl on stage with fuck them. They practically burn a hole in her tits with their eyes. I half expected to turn around and find everyone masturbating.

Something The Dude taught me, many years ago during our first excursion to The Nudie Bar, was that the girls on stage are like a band in concert. You go to a concert to have a good time, and you show your appreciation for the performer by clapping and cheering — and not being the creepy fifty year old guy in the back of the room who’s hand has mysteriously disappeared down his pants. Which is fucking disturbing to see at a Hanson Concert. The girls on stage are the band, make ‘em feel good. They’re taking off their clothes for your entertainment. You should, at the very least, go to the tip rail and give ‘em a couple of bucks. In the process you may discover something new and different, like The Dude and I did.

We’re up at the tip rail and the girl starts to, what I can only describe as, slide at us on all fours…genitals first. As she is doing this we catch a little glimmer of metal. While it’s not all that strange to see a stripper with her vagina pierced what we encountered was nothing we were expecting. SHE HAD HER TAINT PIERCED!!! For those of you unfamiliar, the taint is the piece of skin between the snatch and the dumper. Once we realized what we were seeing The Dude turns to me and asks, “What the fuck do you call that?” In a moment of comical clarity I calmly responded, “Splitting The Difference.”(patent pending) We both chuckled at what silly geese we were and I sprung fifty bucks for The Dude to get a lap dance.

That single comment, that last shared guffaw over a taint piercing, was the last good thing to happen this month.Why? Because the universe is on her period and I’m the fucking tampon.In short order, and by short I mean within 24 hours, the following happened:

I ate a batch of poorly cooked chicken at TGIFridays and spent the entire night puking my fucking guts out. Any night that you spend not drinking, but still end up falling asleep clinging to the toilet like it’s the last life preserver on The Titanic, is a bad night.

The following morning my truck died. This fact, in and of itself, is not all that bad. It’s the result of my truck dying that makes me want to slam my testicles in an elevator door. I now have to ride public transportation to and from work.

It’s not bad enough that I have to take the homeless people limousine but I have to get up before Jesus Christ himself drags ass out of bed to do it. Now I’ve ridden public transit before, so I am well aware of the dangers of doing so. I’ve had my run in with everything from the bum that smells like cat piss and talks to his crotch to the cross-dresser/transvestite/confused-alter-boy/transgender/man-woman that is fooling ABSOLUTELY NO ONE!

My New Bus Riding Pal

But somehow, some way, the man upstairs decided he wanted to give me a sign that I may have been to one too many tittie bars, drank one to many bottles of Jack Daniels, or that I’ve made fun of one too many rubber- heads because along with the regular assortment of crazies and freaks, he turned the weather against me. Ever since I started taking the bus Sacramento has been hit with a series of unrelenting storms. Not, normally, a big deal except for the fact that . When I leave for work, at 5am it’s cold, rainy, and fucking miserable. When I get to work the clouds part, the sun comes out, birds sing…mother nature just taunts me all day. Lo and behold when I leave work headed for the bus stop, and I’ve left at varying times each day, it’s starts raining again. I’m starting to feel like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh, like there’s a fucking storm cloud that just follows me around. The capper to the entire thing is not just the fact that it feels as if god has been pissing on me every time I go outside: I was standing at the bus stop on Thursday, the 9th, and no fucking joke…a funnel cloud formed over my head.

At this point in time I would not be surprised if the earth opened up and tried to swallow me whole, or if I fell asleep and woke up to minions from hell sodomizing me. The only thing I can think of that could possibly save me from the shit storm of a month I am having is the fact that this weekend is my birthday. So if you’re in Sacramento, CA this weekend you can join me for drinking heavy with Hot Pistol on Friday and attending a TV taping of the greatest the backyard wrestlers ever with The TwF on Saturday. I’ll be pretty easy to spot; I’ll be the loud mouth asshole wearing an offensive T-shirt making horrible jokes at the expense of pretty much everyone in the room and drinking Jack and Coke out of a camel back. If that doesn’t make me feel better…I’m going back to the tittie bar until I feel appreciated.

This entry was posted on Monday, May 22nd, 2006 at 7:36 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.