Photobucket Enjoy Every Sandwich



Sunday, April 13, 2008


I WANTED TO KNOW WHAT LOVE IS, SHE WANTED TO SHOW ME

There's something about having your picture on your world famous blog that is both a blessing and a curse. It makes you recognizable to passers-by on the street. And when you're globally famous as I am for knowing pretty much everything, you get stopped by strangers on the street.

Unlike most bloggers, most of my hits occur during regular business hours. And most of the people who approach me on the street happen to be homeless. It turns out that I'm a big hit in public libraries across the Greater Toronto Area. Who knew?

From time to time, I'll be recognized by one of the thousands of Toronto's homeless who have nothing better to do but read my blog all day. And to a man, they'll say "skippy, I want to know what love is. However will I find someone to show me?"
I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but I was always at loss as to how to answer that question. If any of you were asked the same question, you'd probably say something like "Sober up for ten minutes and stop sleeping in your own pee!" But who am I to suggest something like that? That would reek of hypocrisy ... among other things.

And that's what love is all about, unconditional acceptence. It took me nearly forty years ago, but I think that I finally get it. And I have my beautiful Zombiegirl to thank.

I've known her for years, and even though we may have been with other people, there's always been a connection between us. It's not uncommon for us to complete each other's thoughts, and if you're a regular reader of mine, you know how rare that is. I've tried talking her into getting help for that, but she refuses.

We're connected at the soul in the same way Jesus Martinez is to Lindsay Lohan (link NSFW). I love her, I always will, and I'm going to marry the gorgeous, crazy bitch someday. Then I'm going to replace her birth control pills with Tic-Tacs and tell her that they offer a new, scientifically proven level of "minty fresh protection." Simply put, she's my little rock n' roll.

But I was talking about unconditional acceptence, wasn't I?

Unconditional acceptence is a conversation I had with my pretty girl earlier today.

You see, I wake up on Sunday mornings and drink both coffee and Guinness. This is so I can wake up without the horror and tremors of being sober. I also smoke like a motherfucking chimney, which really is a wonderous thing to behold. But it also requires me to brush my teeth about fourteen times a day. I'm pretty particular about dental hygiene, even though it makes my gums hurt.

After I got off of the phone with my great friend, Dr. Reverend, I immediately got in touch with my very reason for living, so that we could talk for hours and hours about nothing. You know that you're in love when you can spend three hours talking about the fucking of Sarah Silverman and Matt Damon and Jimmy Kimmell and Ben Affleck.

After a couple of hours of talking to my zombielicious girl, I felt that familiar film building on my teeth. Because my mental illness won't allow me to tolerate that for any length of time, I excused myself. Upon my return, I explained the problem.


Me: Sorry about that, my mouth tasted like ass.


My Beautiful Girl: Oh, that's okay.


Me: But it didn't taste like your ass, which is lovely. I've actually described the flavour of your rectum as a fine wine, with a wonderful bouquet that lingers on my palatte for days, and that you miss once it leaves your mouth.


My Beautiful Girl: That's very flattering.


Me: It isn't flattery if it's true, Zombiegirl. Flattery is tool men use to get in a woman's unmentionables. That's the stone cold truth, honey.


My Beautiful Girl: Um, thank you?


Me: You're welcome. I only wish that my mouth always tasted like your ass. I'd never want to put anything else in it after I taste that. But then, after five or six days, the hunger pangs would start crippling me and I'd have to have food. Then I'd hate myself for being a fat pig.

What my mouth actually tasted like was my ass. And that just reminded me of the molstation that I didn't actually suffer as a child, but should have because I was so fucking cute.

Now I feel like I want to cry.

My Beautiful Girl: I love you so much.

And that's how I know that I'm in the geratest relationship of all time. It's a lot like Romeo and Juliet would be like if Shakespeare had an anal fixation. After a conversation like that, most women would be busy filing their infernal fucking restraining orders. And nothing gets in the way of true love like the goddamn courts do. But not my girl!

Now you know why I'm going to eat my wedding cake out of that woman's ass someday. I'm always going to love my green eyed princess.


Easy Listening Recommendation of the Day: Little T&A By: The Rolling Stones From: Tattoo You






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