Driving home tonight I discovered the overwhelming sensation of midnight driving with the heater on full and the windows wound down. I’m quite sure this is nothing new, but the invigorating experience has to be felt to be believed. I’ve heard stories before from the rich and the shameless about how intense the feeling of running naked out of their mountain top sauna’s to dive flute and tackle first into the winter snow is, so I can only imagine that this is the next best thing. And even though I can’t feel the right-hand side of my face and body right now I thoroughly recommend the experience to everyone who can’t afford ski-villa’s in Aspen. Half your body is toasty warm, the other is copping the bitting chill as you drive in a reckless hurry to get home and out of the cold. It really does play with your mind when your on the verge of falling asleep at the wheel. Whacky things tend to happen.And while on the topic of people inserting the straw in deep and kissing arse...
I’ve got to say for the record right now that I've witnessed flirting many-a-times before (although only ever from a third-party perspective, of course) but if I see gavin-joel (of the late and great [?!?!?] gavin-joel.diaryland.com) make one more under-sexed sleazy advance on Gnuff’s pants then I'm likely to induce mass vomiting more furious than Dhani after a few too many glasses of cheap red goon. There are Jerry O'Connel films with lower counts of disgusting remarks and cheezy/greasy/sleazy & corny one-liners than what that boy puts out for show most nights. It starts off all in good humour, but sometimes things go astray here & there and then before you know it the common and well respected laws of comedy are utterly abused and thrown by the weigh side at the expense of a slight chuckle, and all for the opportunity to touch her hair or run the snotty nose up her sleave. The first time its hilarious, the second time its funny, but a million times later the humour in being a complete slut somehow runs dry… and who would have thought?!?! Now the joke has been ruined and sometimes, only sometimes, its funny, but otherwise it has just become intolerably excruciating and far more intensely painful then three plate loads of trotsky chilli pasta when we barely have the tolerance to swallow half a serving.
And coming from the co-writer of this tiring website I know I can hardly talk about originality, but sometimes you just have to go out on a limb and find some new material. It’s worth the exhaustion.
Tomorrow is job hunting day, which means only one thing... by the time I get to head into town everyone else has already lost all their enthusiasm for the employment hunt and are instead wasting away on the brown couch in front of bad old sitcoms and re-runs of Gilligan's Island, The Simpsons, and Buffy Season 5: The Lame Years. Hopefully tomorrow will be different, but I won't be holding my breath - I'll be sure to save all of the breath holding till after Taco Tuesday has gone through young Mr. Cutter's bowels and escapes out his back-door with a fiery explosion of noxious gas.
But now its time to make like a duck and paddle out of this cesspit of disgusting infantile toilet humour and do something more self-gratifying… like sleep you sickos!
Night Y’All,
Jake Jameson.
