I've stopped itching long enough to do some typing. My rash has made a home here on my body. I have to accept that I will be a bumpy, splotchy mess from now on. It is times like these that one might fall into the depths of despair. Not me. I am hoping to join in the side show circuit as "Gila Man and his dwarf slave, Oswald." I'm having open auditions for Oswald. Email me if you are below four feet tall and don't mind being told to do awful things in the name of showbiz. There's a little school boy's outfit in the deal if you make the cut.
How many of you are familiar with the phenomenon of "stage fright" when urinating in public? Wait, that didn't sound right. Let me try that one again: when urinating in a public restroom? Here's the thing: I have had my moments of pee paralysis. The most extreme case of this occurred when I was trying to pee next to the regional manager of Hoover Vacuums in Northern England. Yes, this was way back when I was going door to door selling vacuum cleaners for Jebus there. The conversation went thusly, me: "Um, nice talk." Him: (clears throat) "Boy, it's sure cold outside." Me: "Yeah, unbelievable." Then about thirty seconds of silence. Not even one mercy drip came from my lazy boy, nor his. It was too much, so I wrapped it up and left that awkward silence in a flash. Maybe I should have farted and broke the tension.
This is also how I know that ghosts are real, stage fright. I was in the comfort of my dwelling, going #1 in the bathroom, well, trying to go #1. I desperately wanted to go #1, with scatters of #2, but no. I had to go real bad, but I couldn't. I had stage fright. How could I have had stage fright if there was no audience? Exactly! I deduced that there was someone in that bathroom with me, someone invisible to the naked eye. It was a ghost, a perverted one, but a ghost nonetheless. After more encounters I figured out who this ghost was. It was none other than the Ghost of Abraham Lincoln! Read more about his ghost in this post here.
That is all for now. T'ra!
3 years ago