Night of the Cerebral Palsy Living Dead
Firstlee – I dropped my car off to be violated by my mechanic and had to walk two whole miles to get home. I now have no choice but to trick an ugly girl into being my girlfriend so I can get rides home in situations such as this, and other times like when I need to go to Wendy’s. Two miles! This is bullsh@t! If I wanted to run the Boston Marathon I’d become more serious about my dormant bulimia, I’d stop wearing shoes, and I’d change my name to mbutu. The closest I’ve ever come to running a marathon was the time I drove to Canada. That was exhausting, eh. I’m gonna make it a point to ask one of my black friends if they’ll let me have one of their white girls.
Secondlee – The mechanic who’s currently consensually molesting my car informed me that there is a mouse taking up residence in my engine. If I’m driving along and a mouse pops out of an air vent, there’s a nine thousand percent chance I’ll crash my car and shriek like a little girl who just saw a mouse. When I pick my car up I’m going to make my little cat live under the hood and I won’t feed her until she kills the mouse. Either that or I’m going to start using synthetic poison-cheese flavored Pennzoil.
Thirdlee – After my nine billion mile walk home, I stopped at the Taco King for some dinner. I was immediately confused by the complete lack of anyone who’s ever spent uno minuto watching Telemundo. There wasn’t a solitary Spanish man, woman, or baby to be seen. All the employees were Chinese. Apparently it used to be a Chinese restaurant and business wasn’t booming, so they decided it would be a great idea to start selling Tacos. I think it’s wrong that they’re taking over another group’s territory like that. It’s not like Puerto Rican’s are running around doing math. I was hoping however, that my Chimichangas would have been accompanied by a fortune cookie. “Later you’ll poop fire”
As evidence, notice the sombrero beside the Chinese horsey
Forthlee and Fifthlee – I had a pickle on my desk at work and a manager walked up and gasped because he thought it was a bag of Purple Haze. I know it’s 4/20, but I didn’t realize that was code for stupidest person in the world day. How does one mistake a pickle for a bag of weed? Unless of course, you’ve just indulged in said bag of weed and had the munchies, in which case I could understand mistaking the bag of weed for a pickle. Speaking of which… If I’ve said it once, I’ve said it twice; stupid people should not be allowed to wear glasses. It’s false advertising and isn’t fair. Glasses imply the ability to read books. It’s straight up trickery. They should drool and wear propeller beanie hats like all the other morons. Dummies with bad eyesight should be forced to either wear contacts or just bump into things. It’s not like a couple extra concussions would make much of a difference. It might even make them smarter. Sixthlee – An abnormally large gaggle of cleaning people came by work today. There had to be a thousand of them. Each one cleaning their own little square foot. They were leaning over me, watching me work, and making me nervous. It was like Night of the Cerebral Palsy Living Dead. Except instead of eating people alive, they lick your face. I’d rather be eaten.