Blogs
 

I'm interested in starting a blog. Any recommendations on websites to use to host my blog?

antifreeze.com


Really, I don't know. I just thought someone is supposed to say that.

Blogspot was really good.

I used a separate program to create my own theme. I eventually moved the host to a new domain and managed everything myself.

barney stinson disapproves of this post.


/#brocode

Yes it is obligatory.

Just a start a dumb thread on here...

Blogs
 

Find something that will allow you to use your own URL. I use Wordpress.org.

Get a wordpress.org url (your site will be "yoursitename.com). After this, install a Thesis theme. This will open a lot of windows for you in terms of SEO plugins, plugins in general and it will expand the overall capabilities of your blog. Look in to SEO tricks and tips. Also, you will read a lot of advice directing you to comment on other blogs or to become more social with other authors to increase traffic via interacting on the blogcatalog forum. Don't even waste your time with this. The only traffic you will receive from this will be from other bloggers (not their readers) and the only reason those other bloggers will go to your site to begin with will be to reciprocate your comment(s) if you left one and to make themselves known to your own readers. And when it comes to blogcatalog forums....shit... If you've been an avid poster/reader of CP, trying to interact with that community feels like interrupting a tea party by walking into the dining room naked, climbing on their table, bending over, spreading your butt cheeks, shitting into their tea pot and walking out of the room while the other people in attendance remain deadly silent with an exception of the "positivity in everything" aphorism guy who blurts out a 1-liner, trying to make sense of this newcomer in ultra-positive fashion. It's so ****ing lame.

All in all, focus on this: SEO, useful plugins, the appropriate theme/server for your niche (I prefer wordpress.org, not .com) and most importantly, quality material that will connect with your target audience.

If you want to be taken seriously, stay away from blogspot...things get real gimmicky, real quickly there...plus, as of the past 6 months to a year, blogspot/blogger has been dying at a rather rapid rate. Blogspot.com bloggers these days, generally consist of your comment/comment-reciprocation whores. You get no "real" traffic there...just traffic that consists of other bloggers who may read/view a small fraction of what you post.

Note to Salame: Make sure you access Wordpress.org opposed to Wordpress.com.

I'll edit. I use .org too.

If you host through GoDaddy, they can install Wordpress.org quickly and it's super simple.

Make sure to post a link when you start it, for some reason I am fascinated by the creepy shit you write.

I'll check out wordpress. Is it free?

Why would we convert a "blog" thread into something rickdickulous like that??? :D

I wonder if he's already in "set-up" mode. I wonder what kind of blog it's gonna be.

When was that user active on here? Sounds familiar, but can't tell if it's just from The Shining or from this board...

Use wordpress for sure. The advantage of that is you can become familiar with the platform. Lots of commerical builds of sites use a wordpress platform, so if you ever set up your own site, you'll be familiar with how to edit it already. It's also a worthwhile thing to have on your resume (familiarity with the wordpress platform).

He was active for a long time then faded away. I thought he had died from a drug overdose. That dude was on something for sure.

IIRC he disappeared after he pissed off MOhillbilly.

tumblr

Is pissing off MOhillbilly a scary thing or something? I've seen him referenced as a scary dude a few times now, I think.

This is the only known photograph of him on the Planet.

http://oi61.tinypic.com/30xenn7.jpg

this.

Guy looks like a dude from my neck of the woods. No joke. Lotta dudes have this style in rural Iowa.

Who's the chick going for the purple nurple?

Btw, I know I haven't exactly been an advocate for wordpress.com compared to wordpress.organise, but that is simply because you can't assume your own .com url from it. However, I do operate a wordpress.com blog for my decorative concrete business that I semi-recently started. I have to show off a bit. :) http://decorateyourconcrete.wordpress.com. Keep in mind, I'm an Iowan, but will travel to wherever in the MW.

Thanks for the new avatar. :)

LMAO

This.

Or go to Dreamhost.com and register your URL through them, and install wordpress via one-click install. Super easy.

Or, go through GetFlywheel.com and have them do it for you.

Or, go to Medium.com and blog from there...

It's best to have your name as your URL, for personal branding, IMO.

tw

I just want to start a nice blog for my "friends" to enjoy my humor.
I'm topically funny a'la marc maron or louis ck
if you knew me you would ****ing love me
I secretly hope some of you are my irl friends

I'm so excited to start this ****ing blog though

but srsly do I have to buy a domain on go daddy?

No, you can do it however you want. I used GoDaddy because it's cheap and was super easy to install Wordpess.org.

One of My Babysitters Became a Stripper
 

Yo salame, when you get your blog started, maybe we can use this thread as a "shameless blog promotion" source.

With that said, one of the funniest entries I've ever written (out of the 108-109 or so I've posted), was the very first one I posted. It is one that not as many of my readers have read because I didn't post it on facebook for it is about an encounter I had with my former babysitter at a strip club... and she was a stripper there. This gal and I are friends on facebook and she's actually a fan of "The Chronicles of Rico" fan page...so I've refrained from promoting that post, but I've always wanted people to read it because it was and funny as shit.

* Note: I normally insert a pic of my mullet man blog "mascot" and somehow tie him into the stories I write. His name is Rick "The Mullet Man." I included this dude in my blog to appeal to the people who prefer visual humor opposed to humor via reading...which enables me to appeal to 2 different demographics. The mullet man is me with hillbilly teeth, cut off jean shorts, a cut-off "Dawg Pounds" weight-lifting t-shirt and my wife's hair extensions clipped on to the back of my hair to make it appear like an actual mullet. He represents the epitome of idiocy. If he were a super-hero, his super power would be the ability to be super stupid. Anyways, I think it'd be best to not include that pic in this post because it's a bit inappropriate and as shameless as I generally am... it does cross the line of slight embarrassment. If you want to see the mullet spoof for that one, you'll have to go to the link.

Here it is:

http://ricoswaff.com/blog1/?p=33

One of My Babysitters Became a Stripper

Written on June 13, 2009

One random weekend night about 5 years ago, my friend Poff, some other dude I didn’t really know and I journeyed across the Mississippi River to the bars in East Dubuque, Illinois after the Iowa bars closed. For Iowans who reside on the Eastern border of the state, bar close is 2:00 AM, but if you are not finished partying by the time the bars close in Iowa, you have the opportunity to cross the Mississippi River to Illinois where there will generally be a small podunk town which primarily consists of nightclubs and strip-joints that stay open until 5 or 6 in the morning. East Dubuque, Illinois is an example of one of these podunk towns across the Mississippi from Dubuque, IA (Northeast Iowa), which is where I went to college. Gulfport, Illinois is an example of one of these podunk towns across the Mississippi River from Burlington, Iowa (Southeast Iowa), which is the general region where I grew up and currently reside.

When we arrived at the East Dubuque bar strip, Poff wanted to go to a strip club. I was annoyed. I admit, for a party-hardy inclined, social, sexually active male in my 20′s, I have an unusual opinion regarding strip clubs. I don’t like them. Straight up. If you ever catch me at a strip club, then the only reason I am there is because someone who I was hanging out with that night wanted to go. It is never my suggestion to go to a strip club.

Why don’t I like strip clubs? A variety of reasons. I experience an array of unpleasant thoughts whenever I am in one.

The first and most consistently present thought that crosses my mind is ”man, I hope I don’t have a daughter who becomes a stripper.” Nothing personal against all you stripper whores out there. Make that money how you want to, if you want to. I just don’t want to be the father of a daughter who turns out like you. I would want to beat the shit out of every single dude that had my daughter’s boobs in their face.

Another thing that bugs me is the people you see while you are there. I hate observing uncomfortable, awkward and blatant displays of loneliness and creepiness. This is something you are destined to encounter at a strip club. And it baffles me that there seriously are dipshits out there who are so sex-deprived, desperate and/or sex-addicted that they eagerly throw down wads of cash….JUST TO GET SOME BOOBS IN THEIR FACE. I just…never really thought of getting boobs in my face as a difficult task by any means. I surely wouldn’t pay for it, when I know damn well I can get it for free if I want to. You want boobs in your face so badly that you are losing money over it? Well, a solution to that would be growing a pair and learning how to spit some game. And if you feel you are too ugly for your “game” to work, then either use your pair and hit the weights or start running or tanning or something and maintain your hygiene, OR swallow your damn pride and lower your standards and spit some game to a girl who you evaluate as being as ugly as you. You just might hit the jackpot and get some boobs in your face for free.

When I am in a strip club, I also start nitpicking the hygiene/sanitary issues that I frequently notice. I am always thinking, “God damn, some of these strippers don’t wash their tits after smothering them in these dudes’ faces!? And to make things worse, most of these pecker-heads’ greasy faces make it appear as if they took a Vaseline shower before they arrived.” So basically, when you pay a stripper a dollar or whatever to put her boobs in your face, you are not only getting a face full of boobs, you are also getting soaked with a concoction of facial and head grease from tons of these creepy dudes who got the boobs in their faces prior to you.

The beer is also more expensive in strip clubs. That pisses me off.

So with all that said, strip clubs make me feel depressed and if you EVER see me in one, I am probably pouting and pissed off that I am even there.

HOWEVER, one time I did have a very funny, memorable experience at a strip club……..

So we strolled into this now vacant East Dubuque strip club called “Diamond Jim’s”, and this decent looking stripper immediately approaches me and says with enthusiasm, “OMG, I SO know you!!!!” I replied with, “yeah, I have one of those familiar faces. Everyone seems to have a friend who looks like me.” And she was like “no, I like seriously like, KNOW YOU!!! I haven’t seen you in about 15 years, you are “Rico” (she actually said my real first and last name, not “Rico.”) and you are from Mediapolis, Iowa!!”

Considering the fact that Mediapolis has a whopping population of almost 2000 people, and it is located 2 and a half hours South of East Dubuque, my eyes were officially opened. I was shocked and very curious at this point. I inquired, “ummmm…how the hell do you know me?!?!” She replied, “just look at me closely and try to remember.”

I looked her up and down while she stood there with a beaming smile on her face, in her flossy little red thong and her tiny matching bra for about 45 seconds before it finally hit me. She was my babysitter when I was 4 through 6 years old. I loved it when she babysat me because even back then I thought she was pretty cute. I probably used to pop little mini-boners when she babysat me. Most of all though, she was a total sweetheart. She was extremely nice to us. She wasn’t like the awful babysitter before her, who forced my brother and I to gargle and swallow Dawn dish soap, simply because we asked her when our parents were coming home, which distracted her for she was trying to pay close attention to the Phil Donahue Show. (Oh man, did my parents get pissed…she’s scared of my dad to this day). But no, this babysitter, the one who is now currently a stripper….she was cool shit. (Just to clarify: for those of you who know me well and remember who some of my babysitters were back in the day, I will tell you one thing about this stripper’s identity; It was NOT Tanya Fisher. Thats the only clue I will give you).

When I came to this realization, I was like “holy shit, I totally remember you!! It’s so nice to see you!!! It’s been so long!!!” And it was nice to see her. I genuinely liked her when I was a kid. She was one of my favorite babysitters we ever had. I always wondered how she was doing…

So the genuine thrill of seeing this person who I thought highly of, who I hadn’t seen in 15 years made a quick transition from excitement to intense awkwardness, especially when I asked her how her life had been turning out since the last time I had seen her… as shes standing right in front of me in lingerie, about to strip for 50 greaseballs at a rinky-dinky strip club in a podunk Western Illinois town. I mean, shit, did I really need to ask?

According to our conversation, she indicated that she has had her ups and downs in life, but at the moment she really wasn’t feeling too bad about the way things were going. She did however mention being a bit embarrassed that she encountered a kid she used to babysit at that particular employer of hers.

After a few minutes of chit-chatting with her about our lives, families, etc. the announcer of the club shouted her name. It was her turn to strip onstage. However, he elaborated a bit by saying, “this girl is having a special night tonight, for the boy in the black shirt she is talking to right now is a boy she used to babysit!” Everyone in attendance began laughing, whooping, hollering and applauding.

I wondered how the announcer knew this was going on and was informed by Poff later that night that he chimed in on my old babysitter and I’s conversation and as soon as he discovered what was going on, he thought, “THIS IS AWESOME!” ran in bee-line fashion to the strip club announcer to inform him of this unusual encounter.

So earlier in this post, I made it very clear earlier that I don’t like strip clubs and never pay the strippers to do anything to or for me while I am in one. When I am in a strip club, I am basically a fuddy-duddy drinking over-priced beer, counting the minutes until we move on and get to the next thing. But this situation was different. Much different. My freaking babysitter, who I thought was a hottie since I was 5 freaking years old was employed at this strip club and about to do her thing.

I felt an exception to my usual strip club behavior was completely justified in this situation. I remember thinking “holy shit, she’s about to go on stage. I totally have a chance to get my ex-babysitter’s boobs in my face!!! A chance of a ****ing lifetime!!!” I mean seriously, I probably wanted her boobs in my face when I was a little kid and there I was, age 22, with the opportunity staring me right in the face.

So what did I do? Did I buy a Budweiser for $5, find a seat in the back and pout while simultaneously tormenting myself with an array of depressing thoughts? **** NO!!! As soon as she took the stage, I instantly sat down in one of those pimped out Zebra-stripe colored chairs in the front row and my former babysitter went straight up stripper-crazy on me. Not only did she put her boobs in my face, but she pulled her thong down, flashed me her crotch and fiddled with herself a mere few inches away from my face. And I didn’t even have to pay. She whispered to me that because of who I was, I received a “special deal.” I even got a free lap-dance from her afterwards. It seemed like she wanted to do it, which I thought was a tad weird, but hey, I took it with pleasure!

That was the only pleasurable experience I have ever had at a strip club.

Speaking of her, it’s been about 5 years since that happened. I wonder how she’s doing these days?

... That's the funniest? Really?

I enjoyed your concrete pictures much more.

TL/DR

Anyway, when I first met my (now) wife I had a choice between her and another girl.

I went on a date with my wife. It didn't go well. At all.

Talked to the other girl and we made plans. A good (female) friend of mine begged me to give the wife a 2nd date instead of the other girl.

I did.

I married, obviously, my wife.

The other girl got breast implants, stripped around the Lake of the Ozarks area for about 5 years, then was implicated in a meth bust and went orange...

The concrete ones are obviously a different niche...and I'm pretty sure from past posts that our senses of humor are totally different. Which is fine.

It wasn't a bad one storywise, IMO. I mean...how many other people do you know of who literally did see their old babysitters stripping at a strip club? If there are a lot of these people, I never got the memo. This one did get a lot of love when I first posted it on Myspace almost a decade ago...before I even created the site Funniest one, though? Not sure... I just know that that one and a couple others are my least promoted ones that have potential. Out of 100+ it is difficult to think of which ones are the funniest. One that sticks out to me that I personally like is less than a year old and is titled "Proof that Leaving the Toilet Lid Down is MUCH Worse than Leaving the Toilet Seat Up." Give me a minute or two, and I'll post that one. I'll include the pics in that one.

That past is cool and all but not really funny. It's Iowa. Walk into any local strip club and you're going to know the girls.

I bet you have much better funny.

I have stripper stories involving taser guns. Some involving cockroaches. If you humped the babysitter, that would be funny.

CP has rendered all other, and future, "Blogs" irrelevant.

/thread

See if you can catch the Matt Cassel reference. :)

And yeah, yeah...tl;dr

http://ricoswaff.com/blog1/?p=2254

Proof that Leaving the Toilet Lid Down is MUCH Worse than Leaving the Toilet Seat Up

Written on August 11, 2013

So a couple months ago, we held my daughter, Phaedra’s first birthday party at our house.

http://ricoswaff.com/blog1/wp-conten...8/phaedra1.jpg

I’ve mentioned and posted a lot about my 2 year old daughter, Kaiya. I wrote about her and posted pictures of her in recent entries and even wrote a lot about her while my wife was pregnant with her. However, I haven’t posted much about Phaedra so far. I was kind of taking a break from this site when my wife was pregnant with her. I also wasn’t writing much the first few months following her birth. It ended up being a pretty lengthy break. Heck, some of you may not even know that I have a second daughter. Anyways, in a nutshell, this little gal has brought a lot of happiness to my life. She is beautiful, goofy, loving and is always smiling. She smiles and laughs almost every time I look at her. She’s a doll.

Phaedra’s 1st birthday party was set to begin at noon on a Sunday around the end of May (her birthday is May 23rd). Krystal and I had a lot of preparing to do for the party. Some of these tasks included; picking up the cake, setting up tables, cooking food, buying a gift, cleaning the house, etc. Unfortunately, this made for a hectic morning on the day of her birthday party due to the fact that Krystal and I are both notorious procrastinators. In fact, the night before the day of the party, we didn’t have ANYTHING done in terms of preparation. We had originally planned on having everything done and prepared a couple days in advance. YEAH….RIGHT. I don’t know who we thought we were trying to fool. Well, ourselves, I guess, but that’s not difficult. It seemed like every time we had some spare time to prepare for the party in the days leading to it, something ultra important and therefore distracting would come up, like new Investigative Discovery shows/episodes being added to Netflix.

On the night prior to Phaedra’s party, our house was an utter disaster and we had done ZILCH in terms of preparation. We hadn’t picked up the cake. The tables were still in my kitchen. Hell, we hadn’t even purchased a gift yet. Krystal and I discussed the possibility of getting some late night cleaning and preparation done before going to bed that night, but ultimately we decided that it would be best for us to wake up at 8:00 AM and attempt to cram everything in prior to when the party was scheduled to start, which was at noon. We figured this would be enough time. However, this led to another problem that we failed to properly prepare for, which is the fact that Krystal and I are NOT morning people. We are unable to refuse to abuse the alarm clock snooze. We didn’t drag our asses out of bed until 10:30 AM, a mere hour and a half before guests were scheduled and confirmed to arrive.

So we had an hour and a half to somehow find away to pick up the cake (which was located in a city that is a 30 minute drive from where we live), prepare the food, clear out the garage, move the tables to the garage, buy a gift, clean the house, etc. When Krystal and I finally dragged ourselves out of bed, she informed me that she was going to drive to pick up the food, cake and gift and that it was my responsibility to ensure that the tables were set up and the house was clean. She followed this statement by designing a “honey-do” list. This “honey-do” list was quite extensive. In an hour and a half, I was expected to clear off the counters, do the dishes, vacuum the floors, pick up toys and put them away, sweep the kitchen floor, mop the kitchen floor, dust various surfaces in our living room, pick up clutter, fold the blankets on counters, clean and organize the bathroom and organize our DVDs. Along with this, I had to care for our 2 and 1 year old daughters, which meant changing diapers, feeding them, watching them, etc. In terms of my personal agenda, I also needed to take a shower and get ready for I didn’t want people arriving at my messy house, in which I, the host, looked and smelled as if I had bathed myself in chicken noodle soup.

This was a lot of shit to tackle in an hour and a half. To make things worse, Krystal gave me the vibe that if I didn’t get everything done, I would be in the doghouse for the day.

I started with clearing off the counter. Finished in a jiffy, no problem. I followed this by vacuuming, sweeping and mopping the floors in our house. I had the girls help me out with picking up their toys and putting them in their toy box. I was rushing through these tasks so frantically and erratically, I probably resembled the Tasmanian Devil on Walter White’s blue (Breaking Bad if you don’t get the reference). Which is ironic, for our house was so cluttered and messy at the time, that it appeared as if it were the home to a bunch of ruthless Tasmanian Devils.

I began chipping away at the mound of dishes that needed to be done, when I felt the urge to take a piss. After this urge slowly crept up on me, it increased vigorously and at a rapid pace. At this point, I had only been doing the dishes for a couple minutes, and the gigantic stack of dishes that had piled up, appeared to be at least a 15-20 minute job.

My need to take a piss seemed to increase every minute, but I refused to stop working on my “honey-do” list to relieve myself. Ya see, I’m the type of person who is very goal-oriented and when I have a particular goal set (which in this case, it was finishing the honey-do list before Krystal came home), I become very tunnel-visioned in my approach to successfully accomplishing/completing my goal. In other words, I had to take a piss pretty badly, but wasn’t going to give in to the pressure of taking one until I had thoroughly accomplished my mission of cleaning my house to the point where Krystal would be satisfied with me or at least able to justify that my efforts were efficient enough that I did not deserve to be placed in her metaphorical “bad Joshua” doghouse. I’ve been in that house a few times before…it’s not my preferred habitat to reside in, to say the least.

I had no idea at the time, but my stubborn attitude/tunnel vision in terms of completing tasks would ultimately lead to a sequence of 4 catastrophic events.

Now, before I go any further, I need to note one vital piece of information about me, which is HOW I piss. I piss sitting down and I’m not ashamed of it. I prefer to do it this way. My wife, mother, grandmother, mother in law, any female who spends extensive time with me LOVE this about me for they never have to worry about me pissing all over the toilet seat if it is left down nor do they ever have to worry about me leaving the toilet seat up because I never have a reason to prop it up to begin with. I’ve pissed sitting down for years and it has gotten to the point where I truly share the stereotypical female frustrations with men who piss standing up. I hate it when I accidentally sit on the cold, grimy, piss and pube-covered rim of a toilet because I sat down to take a piss without looking at the toilet first. Not to mention, there’s nothing worse than noticing that some lazy-aimer, dude pissed all over the toilet seat and failed to wipe their urine off the seat after doing so. This is especially appalling if you don’t notice it until AFTER you have pissed. No one that I know of LIKES to have some dude’s piss on their ass cheeks. It’s gross. So I literally can relate to the stereotypical female complaints of men doing these sorts of things and I can’t really explain why I prefer to piss sitting down, other than the fact that it’s more comfortable and relaxing. Also, my pisses seem to carry on forever, so it provides me with a few minutes to sit down and reflect on whatever is going on in my life. It’s just way better, but there are exceptions in which I do pee standing up, the main one being in public restrooms. I’m somewhat of a germaphobe. Enough said.

So back to doing the dishes. I had been doing the dishes at a rapid pace for roughly 10 minutes when the urge to piss became borderline intolerable. While doing the dishes, I was simultaneously dancing around, grunting, whining, etc. I had to piss so badly that I came to the realization that if I didn’t eventually give in and relieve myself, I was going to piss my pants. I began bargaining with myself. I thought to myself, “ok Swaff, you have GOT to get these tasks done, but it’s not worth pissing your pants over. Just finish these dishes and then you can take a piss, but IMMEDIATELY move on to the next task when you are done. YOU CAN DO THIS! Gotta make Krystal happy!!!!”

I danced around, while simultaneously doing the dishes for another 5-10 minutes when I finally finished them. The urge to piss led to discomfort that was just absolutely excruciating. I was straight up suffering those final few minutes. A microsecond after drying and putting away the last dish, I dashed in a dead sprint towards the bathroom. Usain Bolt would have been blown away by my speed. When I burst into the bathroom, I didn’t proceed to calmly and gently sit down to piss. I basically jumped, Michael Jordan style in the direction of the toilet. In mid-air, I gracefully pulled my pants down to my knees and maneuvered my body and legs horizontally in an attempt to land on the toilet with finesse and efficiency. I did a good job at doing this. Shawn Johnson has nothing on me in terms of my mid-air finesse in that particular moment. However, this wasn’t a good thing. In fact, it was horrible. It was cata-freaking-strophic. It was catastrophe #1. Ya see, prior to jumping on the toilet, I failed to actually look at the thing. For God knows what reason, Krystal decided to put the toilet lid down after she had last used the toilet. Because of that, when all 215 pounds of me (plus gravity from the jump) landed on the toilet seat, the first anatomical structures of mine to make contact with the toilet seat were my testicles and penis, which had somehow become tucked directly beneath my ass. In other words, with assistance from the toilet seat being left down, I had literally stomped on my own twig and berries (branch and grapefruits, but whatever), due to them being sandwiched between the solid, immobile toilet seat and my plump ass which supported a 215 man landing from jumping into mid-air. Catastrophic.

For the first couple seconds, I didn’t feel anything. I think I may have been in shock, for I knew what had just happened and I was scared shitless that my balls resembled a couple of smashed Cadbury eggs. However, after about 5 seconds, the pain began to set in and it began in my stomach. I had stomped on my entire unit so hard, and the pain was so indescribably excruciating, that I literally thought for a split second that my unit had been jammed into my stomach. The pain expanded from my stomach, to my balls, and to go along with it, the tip of my penis stung and was beginning to bruise.

From a distance, in pain-induced psychosis, I swear I heard Scorpion from the Mortal Kombat games yell in his notoriously gruff voice:

http://ricoswaff.com/blog1/wp-conten...tal-kombat.jpg

And “assuming of the fetal position” is exactly what I did. Right then, right in the middle of my bathroom (which still needed to be cleaned before Krystal got home), I laid down on the ground in the fetal position and whimpered. Oh **** it, I admit, I CRIED. It HURT, dammit!

http://ricoswaff.com/blog1/wp-conten...l-Position.jpg
How is this for a pathetic? Well, this is an accurate depiction of what I looked like at that moment.

So things couldn’t possibly get any worse than THIS, right? WRONG. This was only #1 of 4 subsequent tragedies.

Remember my explanation of how badly I had to take a piss, to the point where I was fearful of pissing my pants? Well that urge/feeling doesn’t go away when your balls and wiener are stomped on. In fact, your ability to control it becomes distracted, due to your attention being shifted towards the pain you are enduring. With that said, catastrophe #2 occurred. Shortly after assuming the fetal position on my bathroom floor, I uncontrollably began pissing. By the time I was physically able to recover and regain enough physical strength to put the toilet seat up, crawl, pull and hoist myself on to the toilet seat to finish my piss, I had drenched my entire mid region of my body along with a large section of the floor in my own piss. It was the first time I had ever pissed all over myself while in a sober state since I had been potty-trained. “Great, another mess to clean up before Krystal gets home,” I thought to myself while sitting on the toilet and finishing my piss, still in a physical state of excruciating pain.

This was a long piss. I sat on the toilet and pissed for what seemed like 4 minutes, which if you add that to the time I spent pissing all over myself on the bathroom floor, it would approximately be a 5 minute piss.

So I’m in a state of horrible pain, but with an exception of still having a lot of tasks on my “honey do” list with an addition of the task of cleaning an unplanned piss mess, things couldn’t possibly get any worse….right? WRONG!!!

Catastrophe #3 occurred after I had finished pissing and lifted my buns off the toilet seat. Immediately after my buns departed from the toilet seat, I heard a faint, “slapping” noise followed by more pain. This was burning pain located on my right ass cheek. I thought to myself, what in the wide world of **** was that?!?! Did something just freaking bite me?!?! Was there a freaking spider or bat underneath that toilet seat and if so, did it just bite my ass?!?!?!?” I momentarily thought I was losing my mind. My stomach ached, my frank and beans (brat and walnuts, but whatever) were throbbing and now my right ass cheek felt like it was on fire. I looked at my ass in the mirror and there was a very noticeable red line that extended roughly 2 inches throughout the middle of my right ass cheek. In the middle of the line, blood was drawn. “What in the hell just happened?” I thought.

I proceeded to examine the toilet to see what had caused this slapping noise and butt-burning and immediately discovered the cause.

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Unbelievable. When I landed on the toilet lid, I had cracked the toilet seat beneath it. When I sat on this crack in the toilet seat, some flesh and skin from my right ass cheek had become caught in this crack so tightly, that when I lifted myself up, it cut a nice 2 inch, bloody line on my right ass cheek.

After standing for a couple minutes to regain my composure from what I assumed would be an infinite physical state of intolerable pain, I proceeded to take my piss-drenched clothes off, scrub the floor and take a shower. Immediately after exiting the shower, catastrophe #4 occurred…my wife called.

I answered the phone, unsure how to explain to her the unfortunate, physically painful events that I had endured. It didn’t matter anyways that, for I didn’t get a chance to get a word in edge-wise. Immediately after answering the phone, she informed me of how stressed out and rushed she felt. She quickly followed this explanation, by asking me about each individual task from her “honey do” list that she had created for me and whether or not I had finished them. I replied honestly, which in turn meant, I broke the news to her that I hadn’t finished 3 or 4 tasks yet.

Catastrophe # 4: After informing Krystal of the tasks I hadn’t completed yet, I was officially in the doghouse, which was not where I wanted to be with a burning ass, sore stomach, throbbing, pulsating and bruised penis, crushed testicles and wounded pride due to pissing myself while in a sober state for the first time since being potty trained.

(Ugh, the Rick spoof is so stupid in this one).

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After telling Rick this story, he responded with, “I don’t ever wanna hear any more shit about why I purposely CHOOSE to piss my pants instead of use a toilet. Those things are painful.” He probably feels this way because whenever he has used something toilet-ish, it has been in a bat-infested outhouse…and he wiped with poison ivy.

It was technically in Illinois where I saw her, homeslice. A few hours away. I guess what made me feel all "wtf" about it is the fact that I HATE going to strip clubs and whenever I've been in one, I've basically been dragged there. Those places give me bad vibes (as I described in the post).

What if the babysitter had cockroaches in her vag? That would be some sick shit.

ROFL

I knew you had it in you.

A few years ago, my wife and I sent these Christmas cards out to like 300 people...along with a "family update" letter. What makes it funny is that we got to about 275 people we knew before we said, "**** it" and just started sending the remaining 25 of them to random names/addresses we came across in the phone book. To this day, I wonder what those random people were thinking when they received their cards.

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