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7:44 p.m. - 2003-04-12
Barbarella
My ass hurts.

It pains me to sit.

I need stitches in my ass, I think.

Last night, I drank my body weight in whiskey. At the end of the night, my favorite waitress at the saloon gave me two free Coors Lights.

Eh...they were free, so how could I argue? Although, I think Coors should pay me to drink their filth....

I drank them relatively quick, and then decided it would be fun to drunkenly climb buildings.

I like to climb buildings.

I do it whether or not I'm drunk.

There are times in my life when I'm not drunk, believe it or not.

Now, whiskey I can handle no problem, and I can easily drink 6 glasses of whiskey with no ill effects. And, I usually remain mild-mannered when my stomach is full of whiskey.

I've even been known to help old women cross the street while drunk off whiskey, and sometimes, while on a whiskey binge, I'll even go to the orphanage and tutor the children on math and spelling.

But....Get two bottles of Coors Light in me and WHOOOOO BABY, LOCK UP THE CHILDREN! I'M GOING CRAZY!!

The viciousness of the Coors Light affected my brain like no other. If there had been a lamp store nearby, I would've broken in just so I could put a lampshade on my head.

My drunken insanity was caused wholly by the two bottles of Coors Light....And not the whiskey.

I'm sticking to that story.

Because, you see, when I drink whiskey I am able to effortlessly climb buildings, or cliffs, or light poles, or whatever else needs to be climbed.

And I don't ever slip and fall off the roof of a building and land on a spiral loop of barbed wire.

With whiskey, I've never known the feeling of metal barbs inserting themselves into my skin, and tearing my flesh open as I try to pull myself away.

I've never had my body torn to shit, or my left buttock split open, or anything of that sort with Jack Daniel's.

But, with Coors Light, anything goes.

While showering this morning, the hot water re-opened all of my barbed wire wounds, and so the towel that I dried my nude body off with looks like a goddamn menstrual rag....It's coated in blood from my leg and my ass.

I think there's still bits of metal lodged in my ass, in fact. I'm not sure. I can't see it very well.

If anybody reading this has any medical knowledge, e-mail me and I'll send you a photo of my ass....Then you can tell me if you think I need stitches or not.

My mom's a nurse, but I'll be damned if I'm going to tell her.

"Hey mom, I need your professional medical opinion. I drank a bunch of whiskey and Coors Light last night, and I got my ass torn open. My ass really hurts, and it won't stop bleeding. It hurts for me to sit too."

Hell no, I'm not telling her that...It sounds so GAY!

I don't want her to think that her only son is gay.

But, I guess I could just re-word my story though, when I tell her, and take out the gay parts...

"Hey mom, I need your professional medical opinion. I drank a bunch of whiskey last night, and I got my ass torn open. My ass really hurts, and it won't stop bleeding. It hurts for me to sit too."

Yeah, that sounds better.

 

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