Bus Driver Rage

There is something about bus drivers that make me want to scream and yell everytime I see them. No, this isn't one of those "I've seen speed and sandra bullock driving a bus makes me cringe because the smell would have been horrible." I shout at bus drivers because everytime i get on a bus I think I'm gonna have a Keanu Reaves moment where I will fall in love with the bus driver and try to grope man boobs whist delirious from the thrill that is, being on a bus. This thought scares me and it should scare you to. Whats worse is that someday they may make a quality movie about me groping a bus driver with man boobs that will make millions at the box office and then decide after all that success that the bus driver was way more charismatic than me, the star in the first movie. The Producers of the first movie will then make a sequal that I won't be in, but will inlude the bus driver in a wet shirt trying to stop a ship from running into the opera house. The movie will suck, but it won't star me. Are you a bus driver. "THEN GO TO HELL. i love you"

Intense Nasal Delivery System

I've been having problems in the bedroom. Depressed and scared about what I should do in this situation, I wondered down to my local doctor who insisted I try a new therapy called the intense nasal delivery system. This new system is designed to help me from spilling my seed too early. I thought, wow. I finally might be on the road to success. Confident, I walked into the bedroom where I saw all 456 kilos of my girlfriend sitting on my bed waiting for me to fold back the creases, maybe do a little origami with them to make a swan then see how many times I can twist my ball sack around before it starts to hurt. After putting my ball sack away in my sports cupboard I invited my Intense nasal Delivery system into the room. It works. Actually it works too well. Who would have thought Fran Drescher screaming "Don't come yet" into my ear whilst I frolic with a bohemoth so large that in the missionary position I actually became scared of heights, could actually make you impotent.

But my mum says I have pretty hair.

I like natural grease. I'm not one to brag, but I have a lot of it stored in my hair. It is useful for all kinds of odd jobs around the house. Fixing the porch, sealing the roof, separating the grandparents after they watched american pie 2 and decided that the whole superglue thing could work. The other day I decided that with all this wealth I had stashed in my hair, it was time to give something to the community and show the world that grease monkeys can do other things than think about sex with animals every seven seconds. I went out and began to spread the word. Telling people not to be hygenic, but to think of themselves as rotting toasted cheese sandwhiches, that whilst they look old and mouldy on the outside, grease, slime and other odd smells are often emitted from the inside. Spread the word. What's an uglier mental picture. Ugly old naked man, or ugly old naked woman? Leave a comment.