Be forewarned. You are about to enter a world that once seen through the eyes of one’s mind, can never be returned from.
Dipshits in spandex, assholes with faces, strippers with dementia: What do they have in common? They all religiously perform a ritual that to them, would be referred to as “working out.” To this semi-professional erect one, however, its been more appropriately titled ”Jackassturbation.”
The line in the song, about being blind, but now can see, well as it turns out that’s not just a line from The Bible (As Told By Guys with Famous Mustaches.) I just don’t think we’re using the same mirror. Boners don’t discriminate, and they don’t hate or cause any harm (that matters). And I’m not saying that because I DON’T want to introduce you to the inside of my spraypaint can full o’ mace, pepper spray, or anything else that can properly express my gratitude for makin’ me look so awesome. Chicks dig me because you exist. Like any “special” love child who worked his way just under the ”Fat-But-Can-Still-Wipe-My-Own-Ass” mark would impress you, they can be ridiculous, and bizarre. Fascinating, but loveable, just not in a very loving sort of way. Sometimes the boners that accidentally hit you in the forehead can be very guy-next-door-ish… if you happen to live in or around Westwood, Kansas. It could be your dad, your brother, son, cousin or Aunt Lily-Chester. It could be your mom, sister, aunt, girlfriend, or manservant.
It could be your Uncle Ramon dressed up as your aunt’s belly dancer’s manservant, but only on days that end in “y,” and not Flag Day. Or Chanukkah.
Doesn’t matter. They’re all there at some point over the past 7 years. Many are repeat, often daily offenders of every social misconduct that could possibly exist.
There’s a “wet area” that consists of a jacuzzi, sauna, steamroom and indoor, heated pool. There’s also a dude that, legally, I cannot name–not because I give a shit about protecting his identity…(every person who has a clue what I’m talking about would know who I’m talking about) and yes, his first name does happen to be James, and his last name does rhymes with Deez…………Nutz!
Sorry, song just jumped into my head about this fairy-tale, studio gangsta, who was ”rollin’ down the street, smokin’ endo, sippin a cold Butt’ry Nipple. Laid back, with his mind on his weiner and his weiner on his mind.”
But that’s all to come…soon…it’s already late, and has already made me a little bit crazy, they tell me. Or told me. Today. So stay tuned for reality tv, with words, and waves…right here in the heart of good ol’ Kansas City!
