Wearing mittens and bumping into furniture

My BFF had an interesting night last night. He had just got done making sweet, sweet love to his wife waking up from a dream when he coughed and thought that he caused his wife to have a bad dream. His wife grabbed his arm, shaking it, and called his name. It finally dawned on my friend that his wife wasn't having a dream when she said that she heard someone yelling. It was just at that point that a spotlight hit their window and someone shouted, "Get out of there, now!" My friend's wife ran in to check on their children and my friend went outside in his bathrobe to find the police hog-tying a dude that had only a t-shirt on and was spouting the kinds of things that only people on PCP usually say. I am renaming his block "Funsville".

I am seriously questioning the things I put into my mouth. No, I am not a male prostitute. My income is clearly not reflective of such a high paying profession. No, I am referring to my love of tastes that resemble a diseased foot, such as certain cheeses, pickled items, and foods soaked in brine. When I think about it too much it is as if I desire to lick an armpit clean. Really, I think that is the flavor that I am after. I'm thinking of going all out by sticking the following in a bait box: corned beef, green olives, pickled pigs feet, cocktail onions, feta cheese with the runny juice, Blue Stilton, artichokes, and SPAM jelly. So, here is the scenario: Me with my shirt off, a bait box full of disgusting shit, and a crowded Trax train, eating away while prophesying about how Hanna Montana will give birth to the Anti-Christ.

I was talking to a girl today at work. It was cold in the room. See where this one's going? Well, here I am talking to her, not flirting (she's married), and I happen to get a nice glance of her dirty pillows (they're all gonna laugh at you!) I turn my head for a brief moment and this girl went from wearing a blouse to sporting an anorak. Well, it was a heavy sweater, but you get my drift. She caught me. But I couldn't help it. Men's eyes have powerful boob magnets in them. It's been scientifically proven somewhere; I'm not sure. My point is that if you are a woman and you have any kind of swelling of the chest, even a bee sting, men will check it out, wring their hands in a menacing fashion, and repeat the word "nice" over and over again. I blame Crystal's post for jinxing me today.

I think that is enough for today.