The creatures in my medicine cabinet are coming to get you...

My friends find these things to be creepy. They are barely bloodthirsty, stupids.

How to eat your own head:

1. Start with your lips. They are close to your teeth which makes them a good place begin.
2. Move on to your forehead. It has crunchy bits that may take up to an hour to digest.
3. Try not to swallow any hair or lashes unless you like things that taste strange and give you eggy farts.
4. Open a canister of nuts. (This should be obvious).
5. Once you eat your teeth, you should be full.
6. If you are still hungry try a babies head or the head of a giant squid.

YOU JUST ATE YOUR FIRST HEAD.
Now its time to talk about how you feel.

Sea Cow vs. Thunder Horse II

Thunder Horse: If we built an igloo out of bologna slices, do you think we could sublet it to a n ambitious Oscar Meyer intern?

Sea Cow: No, but maybe we could find a Claussen representative.

Thunder Horse: Hey what's that on your finger?

Sea Cow: Oh, it's a baby squirrel toy I had glued on there. I got it on old fashioned under water day.

Here's a fun thing to do:

1. Go to a McDonald's drive through.
2. Ask if they serve "squirrel cones".
3. They will think you said swirl cones and say, "yes we do".
4. Order "two large squirrel cones, please." That will come to 2.14$
5. God bless America, where you can order two portions of squirrel for about 2 stupid dollars.

Ricky Pony Sex Chat-(inspired by ridiculous Craigslist sex posts)

Ricky Pony is a fictional character living amongst the sex starved and perverse who inhabit the seedy world of Craigslist online sex encounters. He really knows how to get a guys attention...

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Ticklish: I get in your car..unzip...oops!? Do this between 7:30-8:30 am...Cave Creek rd.

RickyPony: Its not that I dont want to meet you, I DO! I just have a thing for sweatpants, is that okay? I like them pretty tight, unless you dont. Either way. I live right by a cave and im pretty big now that i take these AWESOME duck pills. i can show them to you on cave creek road between 7:30-8:30 am. i always wear the RED SWEATPANTS so you will be able to spot me. (my hair will be brushed). what do you think?

Ticklish: Nice. Stats?

RickyPony: just turned 21. blonde hair (i tuck it behind my ears). my nose fits my face nice (they say). i dont like walking and mostly run or jog everywhere I go so ive got those legs of mine, and not too much chest hair (i make sure of that!)im 5'9" and i just got out of my hot tub. i was SO drunk earlier, but then i ate some clams. that cooled me right off…

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Mandump: Like to show off my ham edge, get flarbed on. 18-40 if you like talking back thats cool too. I want to hang out by the pool ...drink beer and piss around hehe…

RickyPony: When you said that thing about the ham edge, I thought wow. Thats what im looking for! Im shy but i work out 5 times a day and weigh 195. it works for me. I like the word flarb...it makes me feel all kinds of, "lets get into the pool and drink some beer". ive never let someone piss on me before, but ive done things with 4 different kinds of jams so we can probably try it. i don’t mind a little spitting. I like pale guys or guys with long backs.

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Morningwalk: Taking my morning walk up Camelback Road. Love to take a respite while stooped to clean up after a young rooster.

RickyPony: I love sprite in the morning too (your typo was funny and caught my eye!) but that’s invaluable. I am 20 and love campbells soup. I usually have some in my RED SWEATPANTS. i have blonde hair (i tuck it behind my ears) my nose fits my face (confirmed many times over) and sleep in a twin bed. you seem nice and like you might even buy me breakfast. so buy me some breakfast. i can afford it but its nice to know someone wants to buy some for you. im not sure about all of this, but im not NOT sure of it either! I was with one other older guy once (avian librarian) and it was really nice. We motor-mouthed each other’s scab spots.

Quick post, slow pants.

A quick post today to make you aware of the "Slowest Pants in Town". These were spotted on the hips, thighs, and ankles of one of Phoenix's' finest. She was spotted on the number 29 bus shortly after 1pm. I challenge you, citizens of greater Phoenix to top my candid bus photos, if you dare. I dub today's glamour shot, Turtle Pants.

Are you there God? Its me...and I'm bloated.

Truth be told, I’ve never did understand those "I've been talkin’ to the Lord!" types. I mean, yammer away all you want to His Holiness, but if a dump truck feels like backing into your aunt Harriet after her cardio funk class at the YMCA next Tuesday, it has nothing to do with any hot apple cider chat sessions you’ve had with Him leading up to your aunt’s unfortunate human pancake encounter. Also, graveside ramblings on Harriet’s behalf probably won't do much to rouse any life into her stinking corpse. Sorry folks, but a miracle worker He isn't. That being said...I do like talking. So if I ever did get around to gabbin’ with God...you know, just blubberin’ away to the Big Guy, or Big Gal if you're sassy...it would probably go something like this:


God: So what was the highlight of your day so far, Brad?

Brad: Well, I went to my follow up appointment with Sentinel Home Detention Services today.

God: What is Sentinel Home Detention Services?

Brad: (Wait, how does he not know about this?) Sentinel is one of those jerky companies that prey on the victims of the Phoenix court system. I have regretfully contracted their services in order to avoid an extended stay in Sheriff Joe Arpiao’s notoriously rank, Tent City. I called it leaving the bar, the officer called it super-extreme DUI. Pish-posh.

God: I like your pretty mouth swears, keep talking about words…

Brad: (OMG, does God think jerky is a swear!?) Here is the story with Sentinel. They will outfit you with one used breathalyzer machine (manufactured in Israel) and one tracking device (worthy of being strapped to the shank of an insubordinate barnyard creature). This is to better monitor your compliance to the a pact you formally made not to consume alcohol or leave your home for a month. No alcohol for 30 days? Cake. Maintaining sanity in a 450 sq ft casita for an entire month? Irksome.

God: Sounds rough, how did the appointment go?

Brad: It started out well enough. I've been on the program for 15 days, and I've got 15 more, so no sweat. I got to the Sentinel office with paperwork in hand and my caseworker, Louie, a Latin-Papi type with a disfigured appendage (typical) tells me he is going to review my compliance over the past 15 days. If he has any questions about my whereabouts, he will ask. He spends the next few minutes underlining, circling, and initialing my schedule. Ultimately everything lines up nicely, except for one little thing…

God: What did you do this time, kid?

Brad: (Shit, he doesn’t know this either?) When you face the breathalyzer machine, and are ready to blow into it, the machine takes a picture of you to further verify your compliance, thus inciting the 'no double backsies' clause. The panel of glass that houses the camera in the breathalyzer is about the size of one of Satan's business cards which is standard size (hard to believe). Anyhow this area lights up after a series of obligatory bells and whistles to capture your image. Looking at my reflection in this pane, my forehead and chin are cut off and so naturally I assumed the resulting photograph would be a facsimile of this segment of my face.

God: Now that sounds like one handsome image.

Brad: I know, right? Well the problem wasn’t that I was so handsome I jammed up the machine or anything. According to Gimpy Lou, the high tech camera inside of the breathalyzer is programmed to photograph an area that extends far beyond the reflection displayed by the little glass panel.

God: Like how much further?

Brad: Put it this way, I’ve been asked to stop taking my breathalyzer tests naked.

God: (blushing) Oh my heavens!

Brad: Oh come on, God. Stop acting like a kindergartner.