Ode to Clarissa

The air was different that day. It smelled like the the monkey house at the Bronx Zoo, the room where they kept the white-faced saki. The room was full of enormous trees, and the air was moist and cool. You wouldn't think a room full of monkeys would smell so pleasing, but to me, it did. Maybe it was due to some fond childhood memories, or maybe it was just because I like to have sex with monkeys. Who knows?

The Tremor of '07

Or "The Fart Heard 'Round the World"

I think I can safely say this is the proudest I've ever been in my life. First of all, I've never even had one come out as a visible bubble before, so that was a pleasant surprise. Second, I can't believe I was able to jump inside of it without it breaking.

It started to lift off the ground. I guess sulfur is lighter than air. I don't know if that's true or not, but I'll buy it. Maybe the atmosphere in New York City is different from normal air, because of all the gases coming from the decomposing corpses of the hobos Giuliani had "taken care of." Who knows? I'm no scientist.

The bubble was a watery-brown color, but it was also pretty transparent, so people could see that I was naked inside of it. It started floating down the street, right through Times Square. (My dad works at the New York Times, I was visiting him at work when it happened. Did I mention that it started in the newsroom? It was pretty loud and blew papers off tables all over the room, and somebody yelled "Stop the presses!" It started to fly out the window so I ran and dove into it. It turns out the presses did stop, but not because of the seriousness of the news, but because the shockwaves from the emission destroyed them.)

By the way, did I mention the smell? It was tremendous! It was like the Sasquatch had feast upon the Loch Ness monster's maggot infested corpse, and then barfed it all over Godzilla's dick. I couldn't stop vomiting, and it kept falling through the bubble. I think that's called a "semi-permeable membrane." Hey, maybe there's hope for that science degree yet.

Anyway, people were screaming and pointing up at me, and I was waving and vomiting at them. It was the most happy I had ever been. I flew over all of the landmarks: the Statue of Liberty (My vomit melted off her robes. It turns out she's just a glowing green, metal skeleton underneath it all, not a naked woman.), Ground Zero (I tried to salute but I was still having a hard time with all the vomiting.), the building where they filmed Ghostbusters, all the important stuff.

When I made it to the Empire State Building, of course it popped, and my vomit rampage was over. The crowds cheered for a few seconds, but they didn't realize the smell had been released. Then they did.

And that's how I killed New York City.

Writing prompt courtesy of Jaleel White's Blog.

mbaa

You would think that someone that smells like poo would get it worked out pretty quickly. I mean, I know when I start smelling like I just crapped my pants, showering becomes a high priority item on my to-do list. Now, I know it can be difficult to tell if you smell, because you get used to it, I guess, but you should realize that something is up when people start burying their heads in their own asses as soon as you come around. I guess what I'm saying is, it's comfortable, but it's not that comfortable.

He's a Criminal Mastermind!

I have this irrational fear of my father having beaten off into the shampoo. I don't know where this comes from; it doesn't even sound like something he would do, but that makes it even more terrifying. I would never know! Every time I take a shower at home, I think about this, and really creeps me out, to think I could have dad-jizz all over my head. It truly is the perfect crime.

Phrases That Need to Go

I consider myself the ultimate authority on all things English, and so should you. I have decided to use this power to protect the language from violation, and will now be banning certain phrases from use.

"Now that's what I call..."

Enough. That's so lame. I don't think there has ever been a time where that setup was funny, but if it was, it was before anyone reading this blog was born.

"That's so random!"

I'm declaring the word "random" to be dead. No more "random." The only instance in which it will be acceptable is in reference to a number generator. If you see a crazy YouTube video, you will not describe it as "random." Feel free to say "unexpected" or "absurd." You don't mean "random." Stop it.

"Rock out with your cock out."

Christ. If ever there was a reason to outlaw rhyming, this is it.

"Society."

Any talk about society, while not banned, is to be looked down upon, unless it comes from a sociologist. Even then, come on.

This list will never end.

Bizarre Can't Rap!

Feet are gross. There is no such thing as a nice foot, there are only varying gradations in grotesquerie. Living in a dorm has made me realize to an even greater extent that I am surrounded by the insane. The amount of people that don't share my disgust in feet is staggering.

Also, I used not to hate Uggs, but now I do. Here's why: they are almost robot boots. If they were robot boots, they would be the best thing ever, but for now they just serve as a reminder of what could have been. Please, girls, stop wearing Uggs until they start putting rockets in the bottom. Just go for the Chucks.

Getting Older...

It's a sad day when your farts start smelling like your dad's. A sad day indeed.

Which Of Us Belongs In College?

Guy #1: "You wanna smoke tonight?"
Guy #2: "If I smoke it's gotta be crack."

I can't believe that wasn't a joke. Jesus Christ. One of us is going to have to die, immediately. My vote goes for you. Why don't you just make it easier on the both of us and swallow a box of shotgun shells right now?