Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

Where the flaming hell have I been?

Busy.

With my head up my arse.

Who cares? So what? I'm the only one reading this crap--though it's a lot cheaper than a bloody psychiatrist.

But it occurs to me--asking where I've been is a lot like my second ex-wife commenting on how much better I look with longer hair, instead of the pretending-to-be-bald-shaving-my-head look I currently employ, just 'cause it's fashionable (and the chicks dig it, so I'm told--by friends who actually have one or two. I'm so hep, happening, and now).

Who cares where I've been? And who cares what she has to say about what would make me (with a face like a pail full of writhing maggots) more "attractive". She, now, wants to weigh in?. Really, "honey"?

Want my opinion on how you'd look better? I can think of three ways:

• In a McDonald's uniform, behind the cash register...
  
• Behind the cash register at Wal Mart, with one of those little blue badges...
  
• Come to think of it...behind the cash register, any good godamn where.

Get a frigging job, "darling", so I don't have to pay for everything, always, non-stop, endlessly.

Oh, and even though it's been about 10 years: buff my scrotum.

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 5:07 AM