The Ball Shedder

Posted: August 4, 2010 in manscaping, poop, rants, wtf


Dear Dickwad,

No, I do not know you’re name.

Nor do I know who you are.

But I know WHAT you are.

You’re a stupid fuckshit.

Why do I know this?

Because every time I go into the men’s room to take a shit, I can tell when you’ve been there.

How?

Three words:

Ball. Hair. Everywhere.

Mother of Christ.

It’s like four hundred little Magic Pube Fairies came in overnight and sprinkled short fucking curlies all over the toilet and toilet seat.

*** SIDEBAR ***

Magic Pube Fairies: Fact or Fiction?

Discuss.

*** END SIDEBAR ***


Dude.

I have to poo.

I do NOT have the time to sit there and try to blow them off the seat…

…or wipe at them with a little fragment of toilet paper…

…hoping…NO, NO…PRAYING TO GOD that they’re not of the ‘wet’ variety.

As this will require physically wiping them off.

And, no…

…I’m NOT going to just leave them there and sit down.

If I wanted to know what it felt like to sit on your penis, I’d call your mother.


Do you not know this is happening?

Based on the sheer amount of curlies that are sitting here, I would imagine that your penis looks like Charlie Brown’s Christmas Tree…

…all mange-looking and shit.

(For my Jewish readers, replace ‘Charlie Brown’s Christmas Tree’ with ‘Dreidel’ or ‘Jew holiday candle thingy’ and you should be all set with the above analogy. You’re welcome.)


I have found this hard to believe, but you’re actually WORSE than that other guy.

You know the other guy.

The guy who uses his electric razor over the fucking toilet without putting the seat up.

Little tiny whiskers all over the goddamn seat.

Asshole.

Dude, if I wanted to know what it was like to sit on your face, I’d call fuckshit pube-guy’s mother.

She’s a dirty…dirty mom.

(mom…call me)

So, instead of a toilet seat covered in little whiskers (not the cat food)…

…I get a toilet that looks like Epstein from ‘Welcome Back Kotter’ is resting his head on it.


In closing, you prick, check for your nut hair before exiting the shitter.

Or shave your balls.

Either works for me, but with the latter, I have less work to do.

Until I start pooping.

Then I’m nothin’ but business, baby.

Thanks in advance.

Signed,

Epstein’s Mother

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