Only a few will understand what this is about…
minimum effort cosplay
I’ll tell you hwhat, this is well put together for being minimal.
Are we just going to ignore the guy who assumes most people don’t know what King of the Hill is
So there I was, ready to take a shower. I mean, I was dirty, a little greasy, a shower was not such a horrible idea. People take showers, amiright? Of course!
I get naked.
I’m talking the exact opposite reason why you ever went to your grandmother’s house.
No cookies. Blatant nudity.
That’s how folks take showers these days, right? Well, I pull back the curtain…
And there it was.
This…thing…sitting on the little soap/shower/pube shelf. Not a care in the world, like it’s been there for years. “What the fuck is that?” I think to myself.
Now, what follows is the exact pattern of thought that took me from rational human being to Sloth in 3.4 seconds.
“Is that a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit? Holy fuck that’s a Red Lobster cheesy biscuit. OMG why would someone leave that unattended. Those things are so delicious. I’m gonna eat the fuck out of it. Man, I can’t wait to see whoever left it’s face when they come back to find that someone ate their cheesy biscuit’s fuck. Ohhh boy.”
Then my brain sent a message to my arm that said, “Reach for that cheesy biscuit, bitch. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR!?”
As you must already know, we are all contractually bound to make a dickload of mistakes throughout our lifetime. Some of those mistakes are so big that they forever hinder our world and warrant entire chapters in our children’s history books. However, most mistakes have the dubious providence of merely haunting one’s soul and festering amidst the subconscious for always and eternity.
This was, nearly, one of those.
If my adjacency to failure could be measured, the only possible unit of measurement to appropriate it would be “baby condoms”. And no, I do not mean those horrendous papoose-like titty-cribs that the slovenly carriage their spawn around in in Wal-Mart, I mean condoms that a baby would wear.
My adjacency to failure was roughly 1 and a half Kiddie Trojans.
I’m not sure what stopped me, be it cosmic or supernatural, but it gave my brain just enough time to ask itself some rather important questions regarding this little tub treasure. Questions like:
“WHO, THE FUCK, WOULD LEAVE A CHEESY BISCUIT IN MY SHOWER?!”
And inquiries such as:
“AND WHY WERE YOU GOING TO EAT IT, MORON?!”
Seriously, was I so hungry that I would wantonly disobey all the integral conditioning and survival imprinting my parents bestowed upon me like the ever important, “Um, don’t eat that biscuit retard, you don’t know where it’s been or whose it is and also you found it in the shower.” in order to satisfy something so benign as a munchie?
That, I’m sorry to say, was pretty much my reality.
An early morning introspective psychological evaluation of a sad, hungry, naked man who almost ate a bar of soap.
OMG ITS BACK
This shit needs to be published.
This is going in the monologue section and I’m not even sorry.
That was a roller coaster ride from start to finish
Many of us know Olive Garden’s slogan When You’re Here, You’re Family. Well, I recently put that to the test.
The tables were wooden and nice to sit at. The chairs were also comfortable. The view wasn’t anything special, but there was a pretty cool looking van in the Walmart parking lot that had flames on its sides.
I was immediately offered wine, and after admitting I was underage, refused wine. If you’re going to offer me wine, please don’t rescind your offer. It’s common courtesy.
The napkins were probably the highlight. They were cloth and worked really well at cleaning the windows. One waiter told me I didn’t have to do that, but I insisted. After all, I like a good, clear view of parking lots. Who doesn’t.
Finally, it was time to order. I went with the pizza. The menu said I could pick four toppings, so I chose half portions of eight toppings. There were only seven to choose from, though, so I made one up. “…and blorgaspork.”
"Sorry? What is blorgaspork?"
"That’s your job to know, now isn’t it."
After a reasonable wait, my food arrived. It was a really good meal, not exactly overpriced, but not exactly underpriced either. It was just priced.
My waiter soon arrived and asked me if I wanted dessert.
"Steve," I said, "Have a seat."
"I have this business idea. And while I’m here, and we’re family, I was hoping you could give me a loan."
Steve tried to laugh it off. Like it was some kind of joke. I was offended and he could tell. “Steve, this isn’t a joke.”
Steve looked a bit nervous. I grabbed his hands and pinned them to the table. “Are we family or not, Steve.”
"Not in the literal sense…" said Steve. I wasn’t going to let him reason his way out of this one.
"Look, Steve. I cleaned your windows. Family does that for each other. They clean each others’ windows. Now, don’t you think I deserve that loan? We’re family, Steve, we’re family."
Steve handed me 13 bucks. “Thanks, Steve.”