To follow suit with NRA releasing their own enemies list, I’ve decided to crafted my on enemies list.
Here it is as follows:
- rough toilet paper
- Hasbro’s distribution
This is from American Dad! episode “American Stepdad”, from 8:50 to 9:50.
It’s story time my children. A story of the ages. It has laughter, and yelling, a farm animal and love.
And love juices. The kind that Neil Patrick Harris pays to get out of your car’s upholstery
I purchased a new car back in May. May 26th to be precise about it. It’s a glorious car, a 2012 Chevy Cruze. For once I had a car that was mine and brand spanking new. My last car, a 2007 Chevy Cobalt had recently… started to shit out on me. The A/C went out on one of the hotter days in May. Not just one of the hotter days in May, one of the hotter days this summer. The brakes sounded as if they were signaling the dead that I might be joining them soon. But it had pick-up and go like you wouldn’t believe a four cylinder car could ever have without having made a deal with the devil.
My new car, had power… locks and windows. The power output wasn’t as high as the last car, but it did get nearly 450 miles to the tank and when the car hit ninty, I didn’t see James Dean, the actor, no the one from the fifties, not the porn star, giving me welcoming wave. It was stable and could handle a curve.
But this story promises other things than me describing what could be auto-mobile-erotica. This story promises LAUGHTER, YELLING, FARM ANIMALS and LOVE!
Meghan’s daughter Maryanne has been a friend with my son Lucian since they were in the 3 year old class together in pre-school. Over time, we had become friends as well. Meghan has transformed her central phoenix home into small home farm. With a normal lot, she has 729 sq feet of a garden, several chickens, few turkeys, two cats, a dog and a pig.
We’re going to focus on the pig. The pig was found at Maryanne’s school where for some reason, they thought that Meghan would want the pig since she already had animals. It was actually a good guess. And for the first few hours all was right in the world.
Until she found out that the pig was closer related to a man than a pig. Pyg Pig, was a fucking horny bastard that had ever been born to this world. It was making sweet, sweet love to their bright red wheel barrel. Forever shaming it. Everytime the dog wanted to go pee Pyg was there trying to plug the whole. He had even taken to trying to fuck a stack of wood.
These habits of Pyg was enough where he was not allowed in. You could only imagine the nighttime terrors he could inflict on two sleeping girls. It would be damaging enough to make them C-Team for the stripclubs that litter Grand Ave where the stripclubs are anything but Grand. The pig had to sleep outside. It was for everyone’s best interest.
Pyg Pig also had taken to playing chicken bowling every so often. Ramming into them at full speed. Much to his delight and their hatred.
Meghan had enough and was looking for a new home for Pyg Pig. My dad has couple of acres of land and said that he would keep him until his dad would take him back to Duncan, Arizona where he would either be kept as a pet or eventually turned into bacon. Knowing the habits of the pig, there is a good chance that Grandpa Birdy would have toss the pig over the side of the fence on a full moon, sliced his balls off, rubbed salt over the wound. Only to eat the testicles in front of the pig.
Yeah… My grandfather would eat things Andrew Zimmern would balk at eating.
So back to the pig. Meghan lives in central Phoenix where my dad lives nearly 115 streets away in Near-Far-West Phoenix. Even with a new car, it seemed like the best thing to do would be to line the inside of my car with plastic lining so the pig wouldn’t poo inside or get the nice new car dirty. It could have doubled for preventing my car becoming a crime scene(all the evidence would have been contained). Meghan also added a harness to the little bastard so he would be more manageable.
We waited and chatted until the pig peed so we know that wouldn’t happen in the car. Again, let’s stress that the pig is an asshole. Lucian, Maryanne and Margot all played in the meantime. Everything was looking up and up.
Pyg Pig was in the car. I help him down with one hand rubbing his ear while we drove to the freeway. He was of course nervous. You would hear that ear piercing cry that all pigs seem to possess. He tried to move to my lap. So far, the harness was working fine.
But after three miles the pig was starting to wiggle his way out of his harness and head towards the driver side window. His head nudging the steering wheel while driving 70 on the interstate. I’m sure there were people wondering why there was never a cop nearby when there should have been one.
For a few minutes the pig was lodged up near the seat belt. He was calm for thirty seconds before he moved behind me. Forcing me to be five inches from the windshield. I looked like my grandparents driving. Until Pyg decided that he was ok going back to the seat.
I really would have been better if he had stayed behind me. But the story would have suffered for it. Driving five inches from the glass, but not really noteworthy.
It was the off ramp to the 101. That final stretch to my dad’s house. I changed a song that was on my iPhone that had a lot of foul language, that fucking pig made his move while I was distracted. He jumped on my arm.
He started to thrust. It took a few seconds to realize that piggy wanted Casey as his bitch. His corkscrew cock was ready even if I had no interest in him. The only proper response was to push him down to the floor board.
He jumped back up. Attacking my ear. His subtle way of telling me, “Bitch, this going to happen.” There was horror on the freeway. The pig was humping my arm and I was limiting my foul language because Lucian was behind me in the car.
Thankfully he didn’t understand the pig was raping me.
There was terror laughter in my voice as a keep on saying in my Cleveland voice, “NONONONONO!” All the while thinking myself that this was going to make a funny story.
Finally, I yelled, “Not in the face! NOT IN THE FACE!” It was the only thing that I could think of to yell at the pig.
The pig did jizz under my arm on my Voltron shirt. It might be the only thing that has ever defeated Voltron. Only if Lotor knew.
Then the smell started. The love juice smell. Ugh… The fastest way to kill a new car smell is jizz. I’m sure it’s of all jizz, but knowing it was animal pig jizz just killed it faster.
This time I was able to get the pig on the floor board. I’m not proud but I did smack him twice to keep him down. It kept him down long enough to finish that ride to my dad’s house before letting the little bastard out of the car. It was fortunate that I had a spare shirt in the car. It was never expected to be used. Ever.
Just like I thought that there would never, ever be jizz, let alone pig jizz running down my iPhone screen.
He ended up hiding under my dad’s camping trailer. Humping the ground before we moved him to the stable with the horses.
My grandfather never took the pig. He ended up at a friend of my dad’s home. Where he did try to screw his young daughter. He also molested a couple more dogs and the horses’ watering trough.
I’ve been angry eating bacon ever since.
I have this weird love of early Jean Claude Van Damme movies. Especially the earlier movies, but man are these movies are dogs to watch. Horribly acted movies that are the equal to bad porn acted movies. Where you had to fast forward to the action.
These movies were horrible to watch when there was acting going on. Fight sequences were excellent. Acting was probably made up on the spot to connect the the action or the montages. Or an ass shot. That might have been a contract thing that Van Damme wanted in there. “I want to see my ass eight feet tall on the screen at least once.”
This has been first referenced in 1694 in Cerne Abbas. Called the Rude Man, he has giant penis that has been maintained over the last few hundred years.
The other night I showed this movie, at least the introduction to my wife. And the first words out of her mouth was that this sounded like a show tune. At first blush I was a little perturbed that my wife would call my childhood something so campy. Then the I watched a little closer as the rest of the song played out and frown turned to horror as she was right. This was a show tune.
Then the good guys started to yell, “Yo Joe!” and it couldn’t have been campier if it was happening at Gay Pride with cowboys in assless chaps. She was laughing. I was laughing. But she started it.
Now when I want her to laugh, I start yelling “Cobra!” while busting out in West Side Story dancing fight routines.
There are times that seeing Joan Rivers has me on the edge of my seat waiting for the moment she rips her mask off and show that she has been one of many women to play Rivers. A Dread Pirate Roberts of women comedians, where the original Joan has been living the last 30 years on an island in the South of France. That this entire time the look of heavy plastic surgery was to disguise when a new one came to take over the previous Joan Rivers. Each one hand picked to carry on this tradition of comedy and fake plastic surgery where you have to wonder if Joan where to smile, would her nipples poke out of her shirts/dresses.
The picture accompanied Newt, and there wasn’t a need for actually editing the image so don’t look too far as to who I think would be under the Joan Hood.
Because no one has ever made a Powergirl shirt and Karen Starr in the new DC Universe is a costume without Wally Wood’s design here is something you can print off and make your own as an iron on.
Rememeber, iron to a white shirt.
But if you use this, make sure to send a photo. So I can post it.
And my apologies to Threadless for stealing this image to post what the Powergirl thing should look like on another person.
Link to the iron on.
I wrote a novella. It’s about 100 pages. It’s called Perry the President.