Butt Hole

Getting caught doing something embarrassing is the worst. What embarrasses people varies from person to person, but for me I think the worst would be if someone caught me in the bathroom looking at my butt hole. I don't look at my butt hole that often and as a matter of fact I can't remember the last time I did (maybe that means that it's time for another lookey loo), but being caught doing that would have to be the worst. Fuck! Just thinking about me, in the bathroom, minding my own business, naked (you have to be at least pant-less or you can't get into the proper squatting position),all bent over with a mirror between my legs (that's how you do it. you have to crane your neck to see the mirror. some people will tell you to look at the mirror between you legs but then your looking at your butt hole upside down and this is no good), checking out my butt hole, and someone walking in and seeing me in this position. It would be too much. I wouldn't even feel right if my doctor told me to look into my own butt hole. If I just walked into the doctors office and he handed me a mirror and said "I'm going to need you to look at your own butt hole." I'd start puking right then and there. It would make me physically sick. Read more!

Post Office Nightmare

I'm a very easily irritated person and I don't handle even the simplest of "situations" well. My visit to the post office yesterday not only had me in a situation but also surrounded me with irritating people. This is the story of my nightmare trip to the post office that ends with me almost getting tazered.

This is what's handed to me at the window. It's hard to tell from this picture but not only is this box crushed but it's soaking fucking wet. No big deal, I think. The postal service handles somewhere around 6 billion packages during the holiday's and some of them are bound to be crushed and pissed on. At this point, I'm really not giving a shit. The guy handing me this package tells me that I should "file a claim" and that's it. How the fuck do I know how to file a goddamn claim? Is this common knowledge? Was this taught to everyone else on the planet but me? Seems so because I had to ask the guy where and how do I file a claim. I'm told that I need to file my claim at the next window. I go the next window and there's Mr. Korea.

Mr. Korea is the name I've given every Korean guy in Korea. He's about 5'7, weighs about 145 lbs, has black hair, and only understands about 1/3 of what I say even though they'll pretend to understand everything. They do this by either nodding and saying "yeah, yeah" as in; Me: "I just stepped in dog shit and want to wipe it on your face." Mr. Korea:"yeah, yeah". So Mr. Korea is working the claims counter and I approach with my damaged package. I place the package on the counter and say that I'd like to file a claim. Mr. Korea looks at this wet, crushed, and barely held together box and asks what's the problem. "Are you serious?" I ask. Blank stare from Mr. Korea. "It's obviously damaged" I say. He spins the box around and one side of the box falls off. "Oh, it's wet." he deduces. He finally has me come around the back of the counter to fill out the paperwork. This was a huge mistake on my part. I should never put myself into any situation where I'm trapped behind a locked door with a bunch of people who could easily become my enemy very quickly.

After 45 minutes of filling out paperwork Mr. Korea then, never before this, but then tells me that he's keeping the package! I'm only claiming about half of the contents as damaged yet he's telling me they have to keep the entire package. Had Mr. Buttfuck told me that they were going to keep the package then I might not have spent the 45 minutes in the post office filing a $35 claim for a bunch of wet LEGO boxes! So I tell Mr. Korea "No way, I'm taking this package." This is met with like a little Korean chuckle that suggested he either didn't understand me or he thought I was joking or I don't fucking know. I said to him again "I'm not leaving this package here." My reasoning was that if I leave this box here then it's going to sit and collect dust for about 4 months while all the Mr. Korea's figure out who's head to shove up who's asshole and I didn't want any part of it. So after about three times of me telling him I'm taking the box and him just laughing I decide to leave, with the package.

Mr. Korea see's me get my box and start to walk down the hall and he starts yelling "Stop! Where are you going!" like I'm fucking stealing something. Lots of shit was going though my mind at this point. Did this guy really think that I was joking? Was there some weird law that says, once you start to file a post office claim then that package now because government property? Was I stealing government property right now? I decided in about 2 seconds "no fucking way" and kept walking out with Mr. Korea still yelling. Now I'm attracting a crowd. They must think I'm actually stealing something so I stop (full blown annoyed by this point) and let the small crowd of people who have formed around me know that I was taking my package. I explain that this was MY box and I was taking it. At this point I still thought that they thought that it was now there package. No one is attempting to explain anything and now I just find myself ranting to a bunch of postal workers about how this was my box and they're the one's who ruined it and that's it's still my property and if I want to take it I will. Mr. Korea is still standing there shaking his head and saying "No" every now and again. Finally someone goes and get's the "Post Master".

First off, fuck any job with the word master in it unless you're goddamn He-Man. So this piece of shit crawls out from his office and immediately tells me to "calm down". I fucking hate it when someone tells me to "calm down" because at this point I knew I was annoyed but thought I was doing a pretty good job of staying under control. Once someone tells you to calm down you know that you've at least appeared to be crazy in front of a bunch of people. Being told to calm down is like a switch that gets hit that makes me decide "Fuck it, apparently I've already been acting nuts so let's go all the way motherfuckers." So this guy keeps telling me to calm down and I'm ranting about how I'm going to take my package. Everyone had to be wondering what was in this fucking package that was so important. I was clutching this box with white knuckles thinking that I was going to have to fight my way out of this post office when the "Post Master" tells me that if I want to take the package then I'd have to file a claim online! That's it! All of this bullshit and just now someone wants to tell me about a second option. Holy mother of shit! Clearly I would have taken this option HAD I KNOWN IT EXISTED YOU STUPID FUCKERS! My mind is fried at this point.

I let them all know what I thought of them, their customer service, and how I felt like they have wasted almost an hour of my time. I must have said something specifically about Mr. Korea because the "master" said he wouldn't stand there and listen to me talk about his employees like that. He then said that he didn't want to "embarrass" me in front of all these people but...I didn't let him finish. "Embarrass me?! You're the one who should be embarrassed! You've got a bunch of employee's like this guy (Mr. Korea) who can't do their job! So don't worry about embarrassing me!" This is when I noticed one of the postal workers HAS A TAZER! This must have been an elaborate trap to get me behind the counter, get me all worked up, and try out their new toy. Fuck that. As soon as I saw Mr. Tazer with his hand ready for action I decide to leave. I turn and continue down the hall with the locked door at the end. I get to the locked door and like a complete fucking idiot fumble with the lock, while the crowd watches. They weren't chasing me or even walking towards me just watching my big stupid ass fumble with the lock like a total jackass. After about an hour (30 seconds) I have to ask for help opening the door. Oh boy...

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Cabbage Butt Wipe

I was forced to wipe my butt with cabbage once. It wasn't that bad. The wiping with cabbage that is. The circumstance leading up to me having to wipe with cabbage haunts me to this day. Twenty five years later and I still can't walk past the cabbage isle in a supper market without clinching my butt cheeks. It all happened when I was 8 years old at summer camp...

Who the fuck went to summer camp? I've been watching movies my whole life about kids getting sent off to some camp where something crazy usually ends up happening. Where are these camps because I want to send my son to one. If I've learned anything by watching these movies it's that my son will come home having learned a valuable life lesson. He's definitely going to have his first kiss, be bullied by the older kids, and possible get murdered. All necessary steps towards adulthood.

I'm an adult. I have a job, pay taxes, and have hair on my private parts. All these things make me an adult. I'm glad simply having hair in your underwear doesn't make you an adult. I don't want to live in a society that forces you to pull down your pants just to buy a beer. Not because I don't like showing off my pubic hair but because it's such an inconvenience. I live in a cold weather environment and go to great lengths not to have to pull my pants down.

Can pubic lice survive in a cold weather environment? I haven't had pubic lice since I was seventeen or so but every time I caught the bastards I remember it was summer. It's a good chance that I slept with more whores during the summer months though.

I miss summer. There isn't anything I can't do now that because it's not summer though. I don't go swimming because I don't like taking my shirt off in public. And not just because I've put on a few pounds. When I was 22 or so, I got this big stupid tattoo on my back. It's this great big, solid black stupid looking cross and it looks fucking dumb as shit. I have no idea why I paid $300 for this piece of shit looking tattoo but I did and I'm stuck with it forever. I'm so ashamed of it I can never show my naked back in public again. Thanks to my drunken 22 year old self. Maybe if my father would have sent me to summer camp when I was younger I would have learned not to do shit like that.


And here is the rest of it. Read more!

Sincere Letter to my Pets

Dear dogs and hamsters,

You're all starting to get on my nerves. Especially you dogs. You fucking things. Why do you piss and shit on the floor? How do you know where I'm going to step and put your shit or puddle of piss right there? Are you mother fucking physics? Why do you insist on making a bunch of noise in the middle of the night? It hurts my feeling to have to yell at you and raise my hand like I'm going to smack the shit out of you. You always look scared when I do it but two seconds later your wagging your tail like you want me to play with you. If someone had just threatened me with violence then I wouldn't want to play with them.

And you family of hamsters. You are some weirdos. I'm pretty sure you've been eating each other. That makes you some real sick fuck-o's in my book. Not only that but I know you've been trying to escape from your cage. Is it really that bad in your cage? I always make sure there's water and food and clean bedding and every now and then I'll throw some other random shit in there for you to chew on. So what the fuck?

My wife hates you all too and that's really the worst part. You're causing me trouble with my family. I've put up with your shit for awhile now because my son liked to poke at you but now I don't think he'd even notice you being gone. There's nothing saving your silly asses anymore so shape the fuck up.

Love,

Zane


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