Wednesday, October 1, 2008

That's Okay Because I Pooped On Myself

I know I should be writing my book right now, but I don’t feel like it so fuck off and stop trying to control my life. I am going to write this instead because it takes less preparation than book writing and I can feel like I accomplished something today even though we all know this blog is just a bunch of bull puckey. And who knows, this puckey may end up in the book anyway and you can all feel like a bunch of special monkeys for getting a free preview of a small portion of the greatest book ever written.

Lucky F’ers.

Anyway, to get it started, over the past few weeks I have taken notice of a disturbing trend among some people during conversations. It always seems to happen the same way and in the EXACT same phrasing and after I started to notice it, it began to make me want to go pummel a clown. Or even a lion tamer. Basically any circus worker, actually. And since I am kind of jealous of the circus worker’s lifestyle, I don’t want to go around beating them mercilessly in case I end up trying to join their union or something. So let me tell you what I have noticed so you can stop people from doing it around me.

In a conversation with a few people, what happens is that you all take turns telling stories about a certain topic and then that topic morphs into another topic and another topic and so on and so on until someone passes out or starts having sex. Some people completely ruin the flow by starting all of their stories with “That’s okay ‘cause I . . . “

Let’s just say that I have just told a very riveting story about the time we were having a slam-dunk contest at the toy store I used to manage and somebody let the ball roll into the mall where a guy walking by accidentally kicked it and it bounced off of an old woman’s face and right into my hands. Invariably someone in the conversation will follow my story with these words or words very similar to these, “That’s okay ‘cause I tripped over a squirrel once and dropped a box of Nutter Butters.”

There are two things that happen when someone starts off a sentence with, “That’s okay ‘cause I . . . “

#1. I automatically know my story was better because they had to try to discount it by telling me that it was okay. I already know it’s okay because I am not only still here to tell you the story, I’m still here telling a story that is way better than anything you have in your repertoire.

#2. I stop listening to your story because I am wondering where I can find a clown to attack.

I will trump any story that person may have to say because I have not only pooped on myself as an adult but I have been spit on a walrus (unfortunately not at the same time, because that would probably trump even the bible for greatest story ever told). I will NOT, however, tell my story by saying, “That’s okay ‘cause I got spit on a walrus once and now I’m afraid of Wilford Brimley.”

I will tell my story this way, “Your story sucked ass you prick. But that’s okay ‘cause I got spit on by Wilford Brimley once and now I’m afraid of walruses.”

Just kidding.

Oh, and as a side note, I highly recommend that the next time you get a group of people together at a party with some alcohol flowing you should begin the evening with “Adult Poop On Self” stories. It lightens the mood and you can find out that ALL girls are liars because they won’t admit that they ever pooped on themselves as an adult.

It also opens the way for ANY other topic because as soon as someone has a visual of you as an adult with poop running down your leg nothing seems off-limits. You can even talk about politics after the proverbial “poop ice” has been broken.

Just a few party-planning tips from a guy who once spit on Wilford Brimley while riding a walrus that smelled like poop.

But that’s okay, ‘cause I fell down the stairs a couple of weeks ago.

B!

P.S.—I like myself. And Wilford Brimley. But not walruses.

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