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PastPoop8/2/2003-This is Jack`s colonAllright nutsacks, It looks like it's time for another update from your friendly southern californian asshole.As per usual, I don't have shit to write about, aside from the fact that ProxyBastard has gone gold and can now be downloaded from this good ol piece of shit site. In all honesty I need to get the fuck out more. This whole sitting around in my apartment needs to fucking stop. I state this mainly because I need some ass, and it ain't gonna be had sitting on the couch. The biggest problem is that I'm a social mongoloid. I'm deathly terrified of meeting new people, mainly because I have what I like to call a Frankenstien complex. I'm afraid that people in general will pick up torches and chase me too my doom. I don't know how or why I have this complex, but I think it stems from when a bunch of strangers picked up torches and chased me to my doom when I was a child. Although I can't say when my step-father used to lock me in the basement and come down on the hour and beat me with a sock full of lard helped much. You know, I think alot of the traumas in my childhood are responcible for my issues today. Let's build a list, because organization is fun! First off, I think my fear of spiders is from the time we went to the spider farm and I fell in a vat 'orifice nesting' spiders. I was shitting scrawny arachnids for a month, and I could feel them mating inside my testies. My mother had to pull the spoon away from me because I was gonna dig those fuckers out. When I was ten, I was deflowered my a possesed vacuume a la Maximum Overdrive. So that's where my irrational hatred of everything mechanical came from. I hate cats because some man in a Sylvester costume put my PeePee in a vice and then set my ass on fire. At the tender age of 9 I went with my family to Sea World. One of the Seals there gave me the eye, you know, the 'I want to taste the sweet flesh of your ass' eye. Now everytime I see the color blue I have a siezure and start screaming 'my ass is exit only!' over and over till the nice officer Henry comes over and takes me to the happy bin. But all in all I'm a well adjusted functional human being, except every time I go out in public I hyper-ventilate and pass out. We all are messed up in some way or another, like my sister. She didn't get the right Barbie for chrismas last year. She cried and cried and cried. I can't even fathom how much that hurt her emotionally. But she is so much better than me, because that's what my mother says. And if I don't do what mother says I have to go in the box. I don't want to go in the box anymore, it's scary in there. Because you are not alone in the box, Richard Simmons is in there with you. He want's you to sweat to the oldies with him, sweat till you DIE!! Enough about Richard and his blasted oldies, lets talk about how to get women. Which I have no clue how to do... Better yet, why don't you, our reader(s) tell me how to get women? I'd be fun. Or I'll put you in the box with Richard. -BarnyardMessiah |
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