Likely Excuse.

boots…not boobs

….welcome to another version of…i shouldn’t be writing blogs when i’m alone, drunk, or drank too much caffeine. this time, its 1 and 2. kinda like pee and poop. but at the same time. sorta fun. can’t have one without the other. except, now i’m just talking about pee and poop.

so, really, i just have a quick story. i’m sittin there in germany. well, not there, more like here. cuz i’m still here. eatin at a restaurant.
zee germans have just won the solo male bob sledding, umm, gold. the guy was super happy. but, i didn’t get it. here’s what i had to say…
“to the german guy who won the single male bob sledding. good job. u were so excited. and rightly so. you are good at sledding. hooray. just a couple things, though. maybe don’t leave your helmet strapped to your neck. this way, when you jump up and down for basically being the best sledder in your neighborhood, it won’t hit you in the face. ouch! second, when grabbing your country’s flag, be sure to display it correctly. and without stepping on it. you may look better to your fellow countrymen. now…go practice! you have 4 more years to get some sledding in. kids everywhere may take your title!”
so…then my waitress comes by. i’m drinking beer (of course) and eating some chicken sammich and fried potatoes. and she’s like, “can i get you some mayonaise?” “no! who wants mayo when they have fry sauce!?” “idiot!” and so i go on eating my potatoes dipped in fry sauce. yum! and then i run out. so i’m like, “ummm, waitress with the short skirt on, can you bring me some more?” and she says, “you want more sauce? weird, germans usually like it. but americans don’t. its german cocktail sauce” “umm, WHAT!? no! its not german ‘cocktail’ sauce! its fucking fry sauce! that means its mayo and catchup! mixed. you can’t just go around makin shit up! silly german. we (americans) have been eating fry sauce for at least a million years. LONG before we kicked your ass at war. remember that? haha! i will, though, say kudos for adding cognac to OUR shit, though. alcohol makes even genecide taste better! who doesn’t love a good vodka with their yummy mass grave site? if you say you, you’re a liar”

so my hotel is like a mile away. kinda nice cuz i felt like a fatass after all that fry sauce. so the walk was stupendous. i think i lost at least the pounds i gained from the lettuce. aaaand, i don’t have a car. cuz, well, you know…my other car is these two amazing looking legs i have. haha. i do wish sometimes i had a blow up car, though. i could keep it in my pocket. then i could keep a blow up ami in my other pocket. and i could blow her up and be like, “lets go on a date”. but i’d notice that i forgot to blow up the car. so then i’d blow up the car. and then be like, “lets go on a date” again. this time she’d be like, “ya! you have a car…we should.” some people want blow up dolls. i just want a blow up car. and my blow up wife. well, she’s not currently blow up. and she may get angry if i make her into a blowup wife. but it sure would be cool.
so, on this walk, i’m pretty sure the birds were following me. now, some people may be comforted by this. but they were german birds. much like the people. when they talk, it sounds really mean. the people could be saying, i love you. but it sounds so rude. these birds could have been squawking sweet nothings…but it didn’t sound like it. ya, so i’m walking along and these birds kept jumping from tree to tree along my path. and all i could think was they were wasting their time. cuz i wasn’t a threat to them. i was FAR too lazy to climb a tree to get at them.

then i got to my hotel.

here’s some stupid signs i noticed germans post. and what i think of them…




what does this tell you? you may walk your kid here…but, watch out for bikes?




NO BLUE here! Fuck blue!




NO smoking…oh, and if you’re blue, you should cover your ears…




watch out for little black people! they’re pissing us off!




lastly…if you’re going this way…and you’re green…you might consider running.

this one’s for you!

ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it has come to my attention that one day robots will take over the earth! i know! run! aaaahhhh! no, i don’t think thats true. but how cool would it be!? robotic hookers!? i’ll take 2!

but thats not what i’m here to write about. so….

no shit, there i was, mindin my business, drivin along in my automobile…jammin out to some random song on the radio. i thought to myself, “self,” i thought, “what is the name of this song? and i wonder who sings it!?” and no sooner had i heard myself utter that rediculously stupendous thought, the DJ came on, bloody recorded, and said i could find the names of the songs playing on www. x x x .com. xxx, not being porn, but me filling in for the radio station which shall remain nameless. really i forgot the name of it. but thats is merely symantics. and i don’t even know what symentics means. anyway, back to the point. a recorded voice, over the radio told me to go to the internet and find out the songs i was listening to, if i was so inclined to do so. now, lets take a minute to do the math. what fucking american ( i say american not as a racial slur, but because i’m white. and that means i can say what i want. its in the constitution. seriously) listens to the radio anymore!? but, more importantly, who the fuck listens to it outside their rediculous 4 hour commute to wal mart on the other side of americaville. tried to get a job closer, but the 8 wal marts in between were full up. commy bastards. commy could be spelled with an ie. i don’t know. but then it looks like a girl’s name. and i imagine communism to be more masculine. i digress. so, you’re in your car. you don’t listen to the radio anywhere else. you have a life. dinner to cook. soccer practice. drivebys. whatever. the american dream. and the mother fuckin radio stations and their fake ass robotic dj’s can’t even tell you the name of that sweet ass melody they just dropped on your ass! as if thats not pain enough, they want you to jump online and check it out! ok you twitts! lemme just put my H3 on cruise. prop my knee up to the steering wheel. break out my iphone. jump on your dumbass website to find the song i just heard and then rearend the fucking idiot in front of me who’s, what? the piece of shit is surfing the internet and driving at the same time! fuckin prick! bring back the DJ! and speakin of dj. bring back full house. i always had a thing for stephanie. wonder where she is now. i’d be a crazy twist if she were a dj on some lame ass radio station. even better, what if she was a robotic hooker?