Sixth Sense

Here is a miniature blog for you. You’re going to love it… or else.

I hope you all enjoyed Thanksgiving, I know I did. I am pretty sure I broke a few ribs after stuffing myself silly with all sorts of delectable treats. Except for green bean casserole. Blech. Immediately after eating, my heart rate slowed to about 10 beats per minute and I had to lie down on the floor for a quick dirtnap. 7 hours later I was wide awake, though slightly dazed and covered in my own dew. My brother and I then watched Beavis and Butt Head and eliminated mixed drinks until the small hours. Thanksgiving might be the best holiday. The next good one is St. Patrick’s Day, in my humble opinion. New Years Eve is for amateurs and Christmas hasn’t been enjoyable since GI Joes were enjoyable. I’ve had quite enough of Christmas for some time now, I should say. It is just a big pain in the ass nowadays, really. It is not that I don’t like the holidays and the accompanying meats and cheeses, I just hate the stress of it all, and that goddamned Christmas music. I don’t want presents anymore. The only gift I would like is for somebody to correct my personality disorders. I am going to regret all this badmouthing one day when my family refuses to celebrate with me, and I find myself alone on Christmas Eve wearing stained sweatpants and eating cold SpaghettiOs out of the can.

Let’s talk about romance for a moment. Now I know what you are thinking: “Mike, you are one of the great romantics of our time, like Scott Peterson, or those gay vampires the girls seem to love nowadays, what can you teach us?” Well, friends, not much I am afraid. I wrote about Michael Jackson last week, but I want to write about a new pervert this week: Jerry Sandusky. I guess that is not really romance, but I wanted to keep the girls reading. I don’t really know much about the case, or college football for that matter. College sports are only for gambling addicts, I reckon. I do know, however, that the latent gayness of many super-macho athletes is something about which I wish to opine. In high school, I found that they gay kids tended to flock towards the drama department or glee club for some reason. That is, of course, if three people can “flock” to something. This never made sense to me though, because if they had any idea of what was going on in the Varsity Boys Hockey Team’s shower room after big games, they all would have laced up the skates, cranked up the gay and taken a big bite. I can assure you, there is not much in this world that is more homo-erotic than the dancing, excessive nudity and towel-snapping grabass these guys got into. Oddly enough, they also liked promiscuous girls, frequently teaming up to pulverize them. I don’t like anybody seeing my naked bathing suit area without a rigorous background check, but they did not discriminate. I suppose they were more interested in seeing each other naked than the actual fraulein. The skanks were not in short supply for these guys either, and they didn’t mind sharing. We had a couple of puck sluts at my high school, and once they learn how to read I will take this section of the post down. These girls handled more sausage than an Italian butcher. I calls ‘em as I sees ‘em, folks. If you don’t like it, read the obituaries for your laughs. I am going to the Bruins game this afternoon, enjoy your weekend. Keep them comments coming, I hate to be the one doing all the talking – you’re going to figure out what a jerk I am one of these days if it keeps up.

Quick question. Do you prefer one long blog on Sunday or a couple of short ones during the week? Let me know what blows your skirt up. I thought I’d test the waters with this post. Thanks for reading. Enjoy black Friday, a day when everyone wants to be black…til the cops show up! Amiright?

MJG