It's sharing time. I usually second guess myself before writing a blog. Thinking "do you really want to post that on the internet asshole?" Lately the answer has been no but today I answered . . . well, still no but I'm going to anyways. My fear is someone who has the ability to have me put away will accidentally read these one day and do just that. Of couse that's free room, board, cable, and drugs. Why does that sound better than the life I currently lead??? But I digress.
The reason I'm writing is because I'm slightly concerned with myself. As many of you know I drive 80 miles a day round trip to go to my shitty job. Well, I observe things as I drive and think about them. Well I've been observing clouds lately. I remember when I was kid I would go out into a field and spin around and around and around until I would fall down and smack my face on the ground or a rock or a pointy stick. Then I would roll over and throw up a little bit in my mouth and then just stare at the clouds and think about what they looked like. So I've been thinking about that on my daily drives. I've noticed an overwhelming thematic element to the clouds over the last days. Penises. Upwards of 90% of the clouds in the sky floating along the thruway are penises, seriously. Some stubby or thick or erect or flacid or tall or long or veiny. Some with balls, some without, some clean shaven, and some with an unkempt tangled forest. Either Mother Nature is horny as hell right now or I have mental issues. I saw one that I almost had myself convinced was a gas pump handle. I could see the handle and the nozzle quite clearly and I let out a sigh of relief, but when I looked at it a second time I realized I was entirely wrong. It was balls and shaft. Ugh. Thankfully today I had a breakthrough right before I got off the highway and saw something new. It looked like an angry monkey flying through the air punching a bowl of tomato soup. Here's my horrible artistic representation of what it looked like in the sky and what it looked like to me:
I can't express how much better that makes me feel. It was slightly unnerving to have a pissed off primate with his hand in a bowl of campbell's following me home from work but it's miles better than the usual parade of penises.
Thanks for listening, Mike
The reason I'm writing is because I'm slightly concerned with myself. As many of you know I drive 80 miles a day round trip to go to my shitty job. Well, I observe things as I drive and think about them. Well I've been observing clouds lately. I remember when I was kid I would go out into a field and spin around and around and around until I would fall down and smack my face on the ground or a rock or a pointy stick. Then I would roll over and throw up a little bit in my mouth and then just stare at the clouds and think about what they looked like. So I've been thinking about that on my daily drives. I've noticed an overwhelming thematic element to the clouds over the last days. Penises. Upwards of 90% of the clouds in the sky floating along the thruway are penises, seriously. Some stubby or thick or erect or flacid or tall or long or veiny. Some with balls, some without, some clean shaven, and some with an unkempt tangled forest. Either Mother Nature is horny as hell right now or I have mental issues. I saw one that I almost had myself convinced was a gas pump handle. I could see the handle and the nozzle quite clearly and I let out a sigh of relief, but when I looked at it a second time I realized I was entirely wrong. It was balls and shaft. Ugh. Thankfully today I had a breakthrough right before I got off the highway and saw something new. It looked like an angry monkey flying through the air punching a bowl of tomato soup. Here's my horrible artistic representation of what it looked like in the sky and what it looked like to me:
I can't express how much better that makes me feel. It was slightly unnerving to have a pissed off primate with his hand in a bowl of campbell's following me home from work but it's miles better than the usual parade of penises.
Thanks for listening, Mike