I’m a lucky man.
Normally, I wouldn’t share this type of news with just anyone.
This is why I keep the receipts from hookers.
That, plus there’s a tax loophole where you can deduct your cost as a home business expense if it’s done in your basement and you order a certain “package” that may or may not include use of your water heater and a small rubber hose.
However, last time I checked I wasn’t your personal fucking financial advisor so that’s as far as I’m going with that.
So I live by the rule:
If she ain’t got a place to swipe my credit card, she ain’t gettin’ ma biznezz fo shizzle.
On a possibly related note:
My American Express card smells.
I got screwed the other day.
And dontcha know that I’ve got some pictures for ya!
I love me my sick peeps.
In a sick twist of irony:
Peeps make me sick.
So – I had surgery on my broken pinky the other day.
Here’s what my x-ray looked like:
You can’t even FAKE that it’s pleasing?
My friend John saw the above photo and IM’d me:
John: What’s that in the pic? Your wedding ring?
Me: No John, I’m really a Hobbitt and it’s my quest to destroy it.
John: You’re precious.
I AM precious.
Thanks for noticing.
Me: “Hey. Can you make my penis larger while you’re in there?”
Dr.: “Dude. I’m an orthopedist.”
So, he knocked me out for the surgery…
(That’s odd…why do I make no noise now when I fart?)
..and fixed my finger.
It now looks like this:
Friggin’ guys in my karate class ain’t gonna know what hit them.
You know…in 6 weeks when this heals.
Stupid bionic arm.