BHM Moment # 2 of 2010

I call my parents to say hello and I talk to my dad for a minute. The following conversation occured:

"Did you hear about the 11 year old girl up in the northeast who got pregnant?"

"No I did not. That's pretty fucking disgusting."

"I know. And the girl wasn't even black."

"Dad it's Black history month, you can't say things like that."

Again shower the racism off of yourselves for laughing. You disgust me.

Great Moments in White History

To celebrate Black History Month, here is are a couple of text messages Mouthful sent from the shitter for you all to enjoy:

"While Thomper may periodically take inner city youth there, I just single handedly put Barack, Michelle, and the two girls in the White House."

1 minute later:

"And now the administration is spiraling downard."


You are racist if you laughed at that.

The Aught Nots

2010 not only marks the beginning of a new year but the end of a decade. The Aught's were an era of growth, progress, and monumental change in my life. I graduated from high school, went to college, found a real world job and got engaged to my lovely lady. However, the 2000's were a time of extreme homosexuality with regards to myself. I have never wavered when it has come to my love of vagina, yet my actions and sometimes lack of action tell a far different tale.

I define something a moment being "gay" as the following:

A moment which does not promote nor is conducive to the insertion of a man's penis into a woman's vagina.

It's as simple as that.

As the era progressed, so did the gayness. However I only have the willpower to relive 5 of these moments. Why am I sharing them with you? I haven't a fucking clue.

5)

2009 - Pretty much the whole ski trip mentioned here: http://i-swear-to-blog.blogspot.com/2009/03/im-neglectful-bastard.html

However here is the gayest part of the trip I left out. So before this ski trip, I wanted to shop and get some ski gear so I looked hip and fresh like everyone else. I head to Dick's to cop the "sickest" gear and I pick up some ski pants and some long underwear so I keeps my shit all warm. The morning we plan on skiing, we all wake up from a drunken daze and start getting geared up. As we stumble around, Mouthful finds a torn tag laying on the ground around where my pile of shit was.

"Hey, who here wears a women's medium?"

That's when an OFM hit me. For those of you not in the know, an OFM is an "Oh Fuck" moment. You will see this all throughout this list. Mouthful saw the look of fear in my eyes (classic OFM reaction) and knew he found his culprit.

"Oh no no no. Don't say anything."

"Oh you know I have to."

The damn long underwear I bought happened to be women's. Dick's doesn't have a clearly defined men's/women's section when it comes to ski gear. So now if asked, "Have you ever worn women's underwear?" I have to say yes. You're a fucking genius Higgy.

6 months later, I'm back home in Columbus visiting and we all go out to the bar. Hova's lady comes up to me and whispers in my ear, "So I hear you like to wear women's clothes."

Fuck me. And this is only number 5 folks.

4)

2000

At this point of my life, I was still an acne covered mess of a child who just finally breached the driver side door of a car yet still had not breached the pantaloons of a fair maiden. I hadn't even groped, fondled, kissed or been anywhere within 5 feet of any lady at this time. Does this prove I was homo? No. Did it do anything to help prove my manhood and my straightness? God no. The following tale below does not help either.

One fateful day, I was studying for physics in my parent's basement with my friend Mustafa the perverse Persian. The basement of my parent's house was the main hangout spot as I had the floor to myself with a pool table, ping pong table, couches and video games. However the main draw of this place was the open floor plan which allowed for friends of mine to get their egos boosted by wrestling my 5'11" 135 lb frame. Mustafa was downstairs waiting for me to finish our physics homework, since he didn't do shit, and got bored in the process. He decided, "Well shit, he's practically done with my work anyway, so let's pin his lanky ass to the ground because that shit would be funny." So the Persian Perversian starts working his magic and in less than 5 minutes pins my ass to the ground. So I'm struggling to get up because a) I'm a pussy and b) that little Iranian midget sure knew how to wrestle. During my struggle I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. All of a sudden a big OFM hit me. That sound of course had to be my mom coming down the stairs. Oh that's right, she already had her doubts about my heterosexuality since I never was caught around any vagina. Oh of course Mustafa had to see the fear in my eyes and yes, he knew he had found a new weakness. So he pinned me down even harder and planned it so just as my Mom and my sister came down the stairs, they would get a view of their son/brother getting dry humped by a dirty little Persian.

It gets better.






3)





2007-2008 I don't fucking remember





Mrs. T and I were visiting my old stomping grounds in the Nasty Natti and we end up going to the bar with the same perverse Persian Mustafa and his girlfriend. It had been awhile so I figured he had grown out of his little wrestling and humping me games. Nope. He tried to jump me in front of Mrs. T. Then he jumped me in front of his girlfriend. But the coup de gras was when we were about to say our farewells in the desolate, dark, off campus street adjacent to the resident hall for which he was an RA. I am about to drive by him and wave until he motions for me to get out of the car. So being the obedient fuck that I am, I oblige while Mrs. T remains in the passenger seat. As I get out of the car, Mrs. T is subjected to her man being hugged, then pile driven onto the roof of his own car while his legs are jolted up into the air and strewn apart much akin to those of a female receiving some hard-core coitus. This dry hump rape was committed by the minature Iranian that I had grown to love while his girlfriend watched in shock and awe.

I don't think it gets much gayer than having a man half your size physically own you, then dry hump you into submission while your girlfriend is in the vicinity.



But in fact it does get gayer...much gayer.




2)






2005

- http://i-swear-to-blog.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-awesomely-gay-adventure.html

This shit is literally the gayest however I still feel this is only the number 2 gayest moment of my life. What the hell tops this shit?








1)

2003





I had previous blocked this memory from my mind, but this by far was the gayest moment of the Aughts and maybe even my life. This was during a time way before Mrs. T when I still was new to the whole "talking to girls" thing. I was a intern at Intel up in Massachusetts. I was living with in an old folks apartment complex in Worcester, Mass with a kid who wore a pink robe around the house, danced to Thriller, and had a head resembling that of Timmy from South Park. And no, this little annoying fuck doesn't even come to play in this tale. I'm just setting context. I know what you're thinking, we're heading down the road of gayness and it must end at me seeing a penis. Well friends, it doesn't. It is far worse than that.





One of the fellow interns who was 21 had a party at his condo. He actually invited myself and little fucking Timothy. This was probably the second party I had been to in college and the first one where I had actually attempted to consume beer. I couldn't even drink the Bud Light because I thought it tasted like shit. You probably think this part of the story alone makes me a huge fag, but it gets worse folks. At this party while everyone else is drinking and enjoying themselves, I decide to play a game of poker with Timothy and two other interns I can't even remember now. This was after the point in which I sipped the Bud Light, snuck over to the kitchen, and poured all of its contents into the sink. Gotta love these painful memories. So as we're playing this game of poker, I notice two girls in the other room giggling and taking pictures. I'm thinking nothing of it and continuing to play until I lose 5 dollars to Timmy. Whoopdie fucking doo.





I end up grabbing another Bud Light to look cool and just chill on the couch. Some random meathead looking dude comes up to me and says,





"Those girls in there think you're cute."





"You're fucking with me."





"Nah man, I'm not."





This back and forth went for like a few minutes but it still didn't quite hit me that I was at a fucking Intel intern party, there wasn't much on the sausage platter for the ladies. I still thought this dude was fucking with me. I had never been or felt like an alpha dog anywhere. This was my time to shine. So both of the girls end up coming over to the couch.





These bitches got to be fucking with me.





So they both sit down surrounding me.





Oh they're definitely fucking with me.





The uglier one starts talking to me and we start chatting it up, which was surprising for me even at this stage of my life. The hot one on my right interjects and I find out these two are roommates. All I know is the ugly one had a plain name and the hot one had some exotic name like Eva or some shit. Who honestly gives a fuck? So I keep pretending to drink my beer, chatting it up and Timothy the fucking cock block interjects with some stupid ass story that I don't even fucking remember. These girls shut him out and keep talking to me.





Something is not right here. There has to be some trick to this.





I find out these girls are like 25 and I was dumb enough to tell them I was 19. I figured this would shy them away. Nope. They ate that shit up. I was this little innocent dude to them that they wanted to corrupt. It was like nothing I could say would fuck this up. Or maybe I could.





So one of the intern party hosts' girlfriend came over and wanted to play a drinking game. This gal was sly to these girls' lust for me so she decided make things interesting. She dared them both to make out with me. They both were being put on the spot but wouldn't do it and I was saying the douchey nice guy thing,





"Oh no, you guys don't have to. I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable."





When in all actuality it was going to make my geek ass uncomfortable. So after a few minutes of some more back and forth, the girlfriend of the host says, "Fine if you guys won't do it, I will." So she gave me an extended peck in front of these two broads. By the way, in case you wanted some stats on this situation, this was the second kiss of my life. The first of which was a botched attempt that we would make it into the Top 10 gay moments, but we'll leave that one out. Anyway, the girls end up not kissing me at this point. The story is getting gayer, but we're still not at the gayest part yet.





So, these girls keep on talking and getting drunker. I keep on talking and looking more attractive to them. They know I'm sober because I keep nursing that one beer and they say the following:





"Hey do you want to drive us back to our place? We live in Boston."





Folks, Boston is about a 45 minute drive from Worcester down I-90. That's it. But all my geek ass could think about is, "How the fuck would I get back? What if I get a ticket? What if I put a scratch on their fucking car because I'm such a seeping vagina?" I play it cool and brush it off, but cock block Timothy says the following.





"I'm getting bored here, I'm going to head home."





It was 12:15 at night. 12 fucking 15 at night. I was dumb enough to ride with him to the damn party. So I have a choice, do I stay and continue to talk to these two chicks, possibly drive them home and have a slumber party where I'm still afraid to touch them or do I head home with the tard-faced, Michael Jackson impressionist and keep my immaculate driving record intact?





What choice do you think I made?





As I was about to leave with my driving record unblemished, Eva the hot one comes by and gives me a kiss on the cheek. That's when the OFM moment hit me, but I couldn't turn back. I had made my bed. I did give them my number but the damage was done. I passed up losing my virginity in a threesome. Yep. You may not believe me. Fuck I still didn't believe it at the time, but a week later at another party the girlfriend I kissed came up to me and confirmed they both would've done me.





I honestly don't think there is anything gayer than turning down a threesome. Ok accepting a Devil's threesome would have been a much gayer event, but that never happened. And will never happen much to Mrs. T's dismay.





However that moment in Worcester was possibly the gayest moment of my life and I hope you feel better about yourselves because of it.

Hova's creation

Touche you Douch-ay

My Thoughts on Avatar through Robot Dialogue

Please be kind. This is my directorial debut.

Cap'n

I know what you're thinking because I'm thinking the same thing.

"Is Higgy alive?"

"How has Higgy kept his Blogspot account?"

"Do I have to hear another excuse about the domestication of his life?"

"What does Higgy plan to use as a metaphor in reference to the neglect of his blog?"

Well yes I'm clinging to life, Blogspot will keep any piece of shit blog up, my Farmville plot is doing great thank you and I'm torn between the bastardization of Saturday Night Live and the guy below who looks like he survived an abortion.

Anyway, I bet you are feeling that we've grown apart. Well you're right. I don't care about you or your entertainment. Here are a list of things I've been doing instead of entertaining you:

• Spent the holidays with future in-laws trapped in the 1950's. This included activities such as watching tv coming through an antenna, botching Christmas Carols with my voice while Mrs. T rocked the piano, and lay in the bed in which Mrs. T's mom was conceived for 4 nights. If that isn't an FML, I don't know what is.
  
  
• Cursed out a 10 year old kid on Modern Warfare 2 calling him "illiterate" and telling him he should "read a fucking book" instead of playing the damn game. He deserved it, he was trying to punk my boy Incognito. Oh Hell to the No.
  


• Actually spent way too many moments in my life checking to see if the cotton I had been growing in Farmville was ripe enough to pick. Yeah I picked cotton. I wanted to get a sense of what my fore-fathers did before me. Next step, build a cabin.
  
  

So since enough of you have complained that I have provided you with material, I've decided to make a better effort to write the back log of stories I have in queue. At the request of my mother, I'm going to write about the early run-ins with my first arch-nemesis in my life which changed me from a shy, fun-loving child to a cynical bastard who uses racism as an ice-breaker.

As a background to this story, I need to give you a brief bio on my mother. She is all but 5'4", all but 100 lbs and all but addicted to humor. To get her fix, she used me and my sister as fodder for her humor. Ok, mainly she used me because I'm an easy target. Her motto in life is "find a weakness in someone and exploit it." Well she definitely found my weakness. Its name was Captain.

Captain had the scowl of an old seaman and the beady eyes of someone straight out of Da Nang. He had no arms, a stump for a leg, and commanded the vessel rivaling the likes of G.I. Joe and Leonardo. He had the drawn on moustache of a porn star circa 1972 and the pangs of desire for a child's touch. He haunted my dreams as a 5-6 year old and reigned terror over my bedroom and all throughout in the house.

Captain was in fact a Fisher Price "little person" much like the images shown below except he adorned a white sailor's cap.

"I want your weenis Higgy."

My mom, knowing that I had an irrational fear of "Captain," made it her goal to have him make timely appearances around the house. Captain appeared in my cereal, in my pants pocket, under my pillow, in random drawers, in a bush like the Vietcong, etc. I could go on and on with this shit but I'm afraid I would just give her the inclination to hunt down this fucker and find more places as to where to hide this scurvy perv. Everytime Captain made an appearance, I would shriek in fear and in the sissiest of manners, smack Captain away and cry like a little bitch. As I ran around the house crying "Wee, Wee, Wee", my mother would be laughing so hard she was crying and developing a bladder control issue all at the same time. She couldn't get enough of it. Even my Dad started to think she was being a bitch to me. She didn't care. So much like a crack addict, she had to continue to get her fix when the withdrawal twitches started to ensue.

Did I fear Captain may make an appearance in my onesie pajamas? Yes. Was I smart enough to throw the fucker away? No. Was I ever so trusting in my mother that Captain would never strike again? Yes. Does this make her an asshole? Yes. Do I still hold a grudge. Hell yeah I do. Fuck, I can only imagine how far ahead in life I could be if I didn't find a reason to make fun of every random douche, knob and cock gobbler I encounter. I am burdened with this disease of getting my humor at the expense of others and I have no one but my mother to blame. Like me she just had to satisfy her craving by using me as her bait. She had to keep her little sissy son in check while feeding her addiction. And I plan to do so with my future offspring. They is so screwed.

So Mom, I would like to personally thank you for placing the fear of God in me with regards to pedophiles and little people. Your ability to warp my fragile mind has made me a bigger asshole today. I love you for it.

Group Therapy and the Scandinavian

Since Mrs. T is watching Grey's Anatomy on the DVR (why the hell she eats this shit up, I have no damn clue) and I am backed up from Applebee's (Zambrano-ing may ensue), so I'm writing this as a race against time before I shart myself. Speaking of which, here is some random shit in my head.


Now that I own a house the only time I go out is when with other couples since single people can't stand to hang out with my kind anymore. And honestly I can't blame them, because we are an uninteresting folk.

However going out with other couples has shown me that I'm not alone in my lameness. It pretty much ends up being "Couple's Therapy" where I can find solace in mediocrity and comfort in knowing my life is just as uninteresting as the rest. There I can see these guys become shadows of their former selves as their minds become numb to the same vaginally-altered logic I endure. Don't get me started on my 3 year long argument about the proper pronunciation of the word "ruined."

Anyways we had one of these therapy sessions at Applebee's tonight and here is the result of said therapy:


A mother turtle and a baby turtle are about to cross a road. The mother turtle told her son that she would cross the road first, then wag her tail when she deemed it ok for her son to cross. So the mother turtle starts to cross the street and gets halfway across before she gets trucked by a Semi. Her son is distraught and after a short time decides to walk along the side of the road.

At the same time, a mother skunk and her son are about to cross the same road. The mother skunk told her son the same thing as the mother turtle told her son and she began to cross the road. The mother skunk got halfway when the same Semi blasted through her in the same fashion as the mother turtle. The son skunk mourns his mothers untimely death and walks along the side of the road as well.

The two newly ordained orphans meet along the same road, each of which is crying. The skunk asks the turtle, "Why are you crying?" The turtle replies, "My mother just died and I don't even know who I am." The skunk says, "Well you're timid, green and have a hard shell, so you must be a turtle. " The turtle replies, "Wow...I must be a turtle." The skunk then says, "I'm sad as well because the same thing happened to my mother and I'm young and I don't even know who I am." The turtle then says, "Well you're black and you're white and you stink like shit, so you must be Puerto Rican."



Yeah this was the highlight of my evening...I really need a mancation.



On that homoerotic note, which of the following things should I feel most gay about?

1) I can't get the new Miley Cyrus song out of my head. "Party in the USA" really strikes a chord with me.
2) This past week I had a shitty day at work and in order to cheer myself up, I bought Guitar Hero: World Tour so that I could play "Beat It" by Michael Jackson. Greatest. Song. Ever.
3) I allowed myself to wear tight spandex and strap into a harness with a large Scandinavian named Henrik as shown in this video here:
http://www.lifepursuitvideo.com/asppublic/Video22153.aspx?CLIENT=22153&VF=cathywarner_091909-1757.flv
I'm the one who looks like a 4th of July themed contraceptive.


Aight I'm done. Now I'm off to throw out the first pitch into the toilet.

Oh Suburbia, How You Drain Me

You may be thinking to yourself, "Is Higgy filled with empty promises?" The answer is yes. I've promised new material time and time again but funny shit just isn't popping in my head anymore. You may follow up with, "Why are you even writing this now?" Well actually my dog licked my foot to awaken me from my suburbian slumber to let me know she needed to park a Welfare Baby amongst its cousin out in my yard. You'll probably come back with, "That was a shitty euphemism" and I'll say "Exactly."

Pretty much I'm milk toast. Lame. Consistent with feminine hygiene products. But I know you are yearning for proof that my penis is slowly being eclipsed by my overnourished gut. So I'll open the door to my day today all of the way until the moment prior to my dog beckoning me to open the door as if I'm the Jeffrey to her Fresh Prince. Damn the dog has me trained well.

Typical Day in the Newfound Suburban Higgy:

-I showed up to work at 9 to find people still had not replied to my emails asking them to copy and paste the shit they were already working on.

- I left at 1:30 to perform my most recent effort in Heebery. I went to the local Gamestop to trade in another neglected video game that I spent the entirety of my Labor Day Weekend completing so I could earn $9.57 towards the purchase of a future $59.99 video game which will end up getting traded in a similar Heebish fashion. Oh that's right, Jews actually realize that math is pretty fucked up.

- I made a pitstop at the MovieStop to pick up Season 5 of The Office in Blu Ray. This was procured based on the aforementioned Moench method.

- I worked at home for about 3 hours still awaiting replies from people who bitch about the work we do but don't feel the need to confirm we've addressed their issues.

- I went to a free class on greening up my lawn at the fucking library. Please don't make me repeat myself. Before this, I had not stepped into a library since college and I sure as hell have never attended an optional class in one. I was the youngest student in this class by at least 20 years.

- I came home after having McDonald's for dinner and wearing a polo that has become too tight due to the fact that maybe I just ate fucking McDonald's and decided, "Shit, I may want to do some Wii-Fitness." So I beat the computer in a Jackknife competition against the computer by completing 10 Jackknife situps half-assed. Being that this extraordinary act didn't fully strain the sinew underneath the lard, I kicked it up a notch and completed 20 more which earned me a new Yoga pose. Ego boosted.

- After my 30 powerhouse situps, Mrs. T and I watched the best show on television hands down. For those in the know, it is referred to as ABDC or America's Best Dance Crew. Host Mario Lopez from "Saved by the Bell" fame kept it "fresh" as dance crews proved their prowess in competition. Mrs. T and I quickly identified the tranny participating amongst the crews. Go us.

- Once the tranny group was eliminated, Mrs. T fell asleep and I watched an episode from Season 2 of Dexter. Wow my life is riveting.

- As I was about to pass out I thought to myself that in 10 days I'm jumping out of a damn plane. Thinking about that brought up a few issues in my mind:

1) Will one pair of Depends brand adult diapers be enough?
2) Is my life adequately insured so that in the case I go KERRRRSPLAAAT on the ground, Mrs. T might benefit from my demise and have a chance in hell of paying off this house?
3) Who will tend to my lawn after learning the great techniques from Cindy, the master gardener intern, if I do end up being liquified?
4) If for some reason we have a close call but we do land safely on the ground, will I hold it over Mrs. T's head forever and be able to demand makeup sex whenever I damn well feel like it?

It was at this moment the dog licked my foot and I realized the following:

Who the fuck am I kidding? On demand sex is never going to happen. The only thing jumping out of this damn plane proves is that I'm more her bitch than I ever thought.

And friends, this is why you should never own a dog.

Holy Balls It has Been Awhile

I doubt any of you still read this damn thing but here is a recap of my life since my last post:

1) Bought a house
2) Continued to "Custer" around Injuns at work. Surprisingly, this has yet to illicit violence towards me.
3) Moved into said house with Mrs. Turtle. Realized that my way of being handy around the house in no way, shape or form satisfies her requests.
4) Attended a few weddings. More to blog on this topic.
5) Gained about 20 lbs.

Yep...20 lbs. I've let myself go. Not only did I gain 20 lbs, the people around me let me know I had gained weight. Here are a few signs that you've plumped up.


1) Your Uncle rubs your belly and ask if it is kicking

2) Your lovely fiance tells you that gastric bypass is in your future and stomach flaps come standard with the package

3) Your father who is 34 years older than you tells you that he's never been this fat in his 60 years of life

4) One of your co-workers who you haven't seen in 6 months tells you, "The engagement seems to be treating you well. You've gained weight haven't you?" This was probably the most polite way I've heard someone bluntly say to another person, "You ate your former self."

5) You walk around your new hood, being all domesticated and shit, and get out of breath after walking for 10 mins.

6) Your silhouette looks like an upside down question mark. Que?

7) The coup de gras. You are eating a Butterfinger and a piece falls out of your hand. You are overcome with much worry that Heaven for fucking bid, that piece of toffee goodness does not enter your pie hole. After much searching on the ground for said piece of candy, you look down and realize your gut jutted out just enough to catch it.


I'll save you the trouble and effort of planning an intervention for me.

We are all witnesses

After watching this, no one ever again refer to themselves as a badass

Bowser's Minions Have Some Beef

Watch Bowser's Minions and more funny videos on CollegeHumor

Two of my New Favorite Sites

http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/

www.textsfromlastnight.com

Amazing

Happy Mother's Day

Puke in My Mouth

Soulja Boy At it Again

If you have delusions of spreading swine flu

Pandemic 2


Enjoy

The Feasibility of a Blumpkin

UrbanDictionary.com defines a Blumpkin as the following:

Blumpkin (n)

The act of receiving a blow job and taking a dump on the toilet at the same time.

The delicately balanced art of getting your cock sucked while taking a dump.

And my favorite:

The time honored tradition of receiving a "knobber" whilst taking a "dumple stiltskin."


If you were unaware of what a blumpkin was until now, I'm glad you finally crawled out of your cave. It is a term that gets thrown around in various circles for the purpose of humor but it is rare you hear of someone who has committed the act itself. Maybe I have this view because I lead a sheltered life but maybe I choose not to associate myself with those who actually get off on that. The only reason I bring the topic up is that it was brought up during a conversation I had with T-Pain. He brought up the valid point that a blumpkin would be near impossible for a regular gentleman to achieve no matter what some brash fuck tells you. I agreed with him for the following reasons:

1) If you were constipated, there would be no way you could mask the fact you were attempting to defecate without her noticing your
a) Awkwardly Strained Grunts
b) General Fecal Stank
c) Inability to spray life force in her mouth

2) If you had a case of the runs, it would be impossible to hold it long enough for her to finish the job without her hearing you rip ass prior to Zambrano-ing the toilet. If she actually did continue, I'm fairly certain any upstanding gentleman would not want a such a fellatious sloot to continue for fear of certain penile diseases. Also if you were still able to dish out a 5 roper, you probably are pretty fucked up and actually enjoyed viewing 2 Girls, 1 Cup.

3) If you had perfect constitution and had an Immaculate within reach, there is no way you could focus on both drop a clean deuce and making the blower gag on your shit. The only possible way this could occur is if you let the food baby brew for a little while, get blown, and then drop the Theo Huxtable off at the pool. But the focus would be so much on holding back Theo that you probably could not whitewash her mouth.


However after thinking about it for awhile there may be a chance the Blumpkin would be possible. It would require the following things:

1) The recipient would have to be somewhat tipsy to slightly drunk to ignore the odor while the fellator would have to be completely hammered to the point of convulsing.

2) The recipient would have to be brewing a potential one-hitter for fear the noise of grunts or flatulence would scare the drunken knob slobber of the knob.

3) You know when you have those day after drinking shits and they just slip right out of you? Well you would have to had consumed alcohol the night before in order for the Red October to occur as to mask the turd with silence.

4) The act could not be premeditated at all. Although it is easier to defecate while drunk, predicting this situation would be near impossible. The stars would have to align, Hell would have to freeze over, and Obama would have to openly admit he is the second coming of Jesus. If all that shit happen, then you MIGHT have a chance of pulling it off.

Please tell me where my logic is off

Intramural Sports

You may ask yourself from time to time, "What does such a magnanimous and virtuous soul such as Higgy do in his free time?" Well besides mocking people and spreading the word that I have a awkwardly large penis, I play intramural sports. Maintaining a magnificently cut body like mine requires much physical activity and I only like physical activity with a purpose. However intramural sports brings out the worst in people. Intramural sports provide a competitive arena to those who were not physically gifted enough to become a professional athlete yet these athletes treat the competition with an intensity unrivaled by a scorned lover. The intensity for some odd reason grows stronger when the intramural sport is sponsored by your employer. Crossing someone over, dunking on someone, hitting a home run, or running for a touchdown against your co-workers won't get you a promotion or even laid for that matter, but these people just do not give a fuck. The majority of these nozzles are former high-school athletes attempting to re-live their glory days by showing how much of a bad ass they are when they play against feeble competition.





Now if you're thinking, "Higgy, you're just saying this because you're an unathletic fuck who couldn't hold my jock strap nor fellate me as I would so desire," I'll respond with the following. I realize I am not God's gift to sport but I feel and my peers agree that I am athletic enough to be competitive amongst the majority of my co-workers. However I do understand I am playing a competitive sport sponsored by my employer, so I probably should act the fuck up. Some people do not realize this lesson and shit tends to turn sour. Here's an example of a recent occurence.





We were playing a call-center team in basketball where the vast majority of the squad was black. Stereotypes are stereotypes so you figure, "Well by golly, we gonna get our asses kicked." Our team always makes every game competitive but there was no way we were going to out run these guys. They had one dude who looked like Reggie Bush and jumped out of the damn gym. He also had a mouth that was begging me to fist it. So for the most part we keep it close which is much to the disdain of Mr. Bush so he starts spewing crap. And spewed he did. He couldn't stop talking. He just couldn't help himself. He talked during our free throws. He talked after he jumped over us. He was telling us we were worthless. He was telling us we had no reason to be out there.



Well funny he said that because he actually didn't belong out there. It must've been just a coincidence this guy was ejected out of his previous game. Go figure. Well his ejection in the previous game made him ineligible for his game against us. Well this began an email chain of epic proportions. We notified the organizer of this league that the rule was breached. This is what began:

From Doucher (with Reggie Bush on the email chain)

I don’t know if there was any decision made regarding this email. To be fair, we can have Reggie Bush sit out our game Monday vs. (Other Team).

We didn't exactly think that was "fair" so I retorted in the following way, word for word:

From Higgy (with Reggie Bush still on the email chain)

Doucher,

I think we're going to have to wait until Monday when (the organizer) can talk to the ref in order to decide on the rule. However with that being said I do not feel your solution is fair since as the rule is written, the ejected player is required to sit out the following game. So here are the two options which our team believes are fair that I wanted to throw out there.

-Team Doucher forfeits their victory against Team Higgy
-Team Doucher replays the match against Team Higgy without Reggie Bush

I want to point out that our team did not appreciate Reggie's candor towards our team during the game. Remember this is a work league where players of various skill sets are participating. A higher level of respect toward your fellow competitor is required.

Thank you,

Higgy

I'm sure he was too dumb to grasp how much he got owned by that, but the message was thrown out there. This handing of ass hopefully brought back the sting he had felt when abandoned by his parents and his foster mom told him how disappointed she was in him for being too much of a Corky to be able to color inside the lines. Just a typical Friday in the working world.

Due to the fact one of our players had knowledge of this ejection, I should have known this as well. Because of that we did not get the forfeit. However Reggie Bush will be unable to play their first playoff game which pretty much fucks their chances of actually getting to the championship game. And for winning the championship you get your team picture on a plaque for no less than 2 weeks. I'm dead serious. This is what we all are competing for. We could not be bigger douchebags.

I'm pretty sure we have no meaning in our lives.

More Evacuation Etiquette

Thank Hova for this.

Woody Harrelson is my Hero

http://www.cnn.com/2009/SHOWBIZ/Movies/04/10/woody.harrelson.zombie/index.html