Poop is sometimes better than heroin..

The feeling you get when a clogged toilet finally flushes,has got to be one of the greatest ever. There’s that moment where you go from totally normal to “ohfucknonono!” as the water rises and threatens to overflow. Your mind is instantly overcome with thoughts of literal shit all over your floor and how cleaning it will be the worst thing you’ve ever endured. Your entire body is gripped with pure and utter panic as you start praying to any supernatural being that might have plumbing related super powers…until you hear that magical sound of gurgling shit-water half-assing it’s way down. The joy and relief felt at that moment has got to be better than heroin. If heroin felt like that,everyone would be addicted and they’d prescribe that shit in place of Valium and Prozac. I say from now on anytime you need to describe something as feeling really good,instead of saying “it’s better than heroin” we should say “it’s better than watching your huge turd finally go down your toilet.” It’s both more accurate and relatable. Not everyone has tried heroin but everyone knows what it’s like to fear you’ve broken your entire plumbing system with your bowels.

Awkwardness is my homeboy/Adventures in therapy

I decided to strike up a conversation with a cashier the other day because I had a crap ton of groceries,so I knew I’d be there a while and I was feeling friendly. She replied and I couldn’t hear her because my hearing is shit and apparently her ability to speak at a decent volume is shit. So I began speaking quietly hoping she couldn’t hear my responses either but I’m pretty sure she could because she gave me this look like,”the fuck..” Also,me going from a regular volume to a soft one made it seem like my nonsense was suddenly a secret. I left confident that she’s convinced I’m crazy.

Speaking of crazy…

So last week I decided my “crazy” was probably something I should mention to a professional so, I went to a mental health clinic. I sat in the waiting room and immediately took out my phone to avoid eye contact with anyone. Then I realized,hey you’re in a mental health clinic..acting weird is expected. So I relaxed a little. The guy across from me was wearing neon blue shorts and listening to a Walkman and singing along very loudly to Meatloafs “bat outta hell” but he changed the words to shit like “and I’m uh wearing my shorts!!! Fuck you whooo!! ” I immediately liked him. This dude was all out of fucks to give. He was great.After like 2 hrs I got called back to see the Dr. She asked me maybe 2 questions before laughing while saying “you need therapy” and she kept saying it..I started wondering if I was in the wrong place. Like, did I mistakenly go to my gyno and start rambling to her about my fears? And she’s all like “I just wanna know how your lady parts are doing..why are you telling me about fucked shit from your past?” But it made her awkward so all she could do was laugh and tell me I need therapy. I remembered tho that my gyno is a black lady and this woman was not and also my gyno is super awesome and too sweet to tell me I need therapy,so I settled on the thought that either she’s a little crazy or was trying to be funny. Then she told me id be doing group therapy. I let her know I couldn’t promise I wouldn’t say highly inappropriate or awkward things. She said “oh don’t worry..our last session started off with the topic of ways to improve our lives and ended with them discussing how to skin a coyote.” And now I’m certain im about to make a whole group of new best friends.

Quick,say the name of this blog really fast

Tell me that doesn’t sound like a Sesame Street character. Honkifyousayfuckalot is the snuffaluffagus’s brother that no one talks about.

Anyway,I started this blog because like 4 of the 30 friends I have on Facebook thought my posts were funny..the other 26 I assume are uptight arseholes( I’m not British but I’ve been to London once so I’m allowed to say arse or the word innit ) or people who think topics like poop and heroin aren’t entertaining. Here’s hoping whoever stops by here does.

My first few entries will be old Facebook posts so if I’m writing about snow in the middle of June,that’s why. Or I took too much medication and was hallucinating. You may find yourself wondering about that last one quite a bit. You’ve been warned.