So I used to work at a liquor store, you learn a lot of interesting things and meet a lot of interesting people working at a liquor store. Like one whiskey they had, was turned, (you have to keep whiskey moving while you’re distilling it otherwise it goes bad- like old people.) anyway they turn it by blasting music at it. So I’m thinking, “damn, that’s awesome, bet they play some dank ass hip hop, some fat motherfuckin’ beats yo.”
Nope, they don’t.
I tried it.
It’s not even like some hillbilly old back country rhythm and blues kinda whiskey.
It tastes like shit.
I don’t mean Lil Wayne either…
It’s more like Yanni doing Justin Bieber covers…
Bunch of pussy in your mouth…
I don’t mean the good kind…
The kids love it though.
Something else I learned working at a liquor store.
This one guy comes in and tells me, (he’s not homeless, but he’s the type, ya know?)
He tells me he could dependably call winning scratch ticket numbers by sucking on a woman’s nipples for ten minutes.
Which gave me an idea.
But first I’ll need a volunteer… a lady volunteer…
That’s too bad.
Jimmy came all the way out here from Brownsville just to suck on some titties and make a few bucks…
All proceeds go to the Feed Jimmy Carter Brown and Get Him a 5th of Vodka Before 11am fund. Or the FJCBGH5VB11AM Fund for short.
But seriously folks, this is serious. It’s a hard life out there. Have you ever tried begging on the street for titties?
It’s tough, let me tell you. It’s tough.
I’ve recently learned, thanks to Jimmy- that I have the gift.
Last week I made $500.
I think my dad got a little upset though.
Mom’s been in a coma for like 6 months.
Don’t worry though, we’re pulling the plug on Saturday.
She’s not my real mom, so it doesn’t count, ya know?
I was adopted, because my real mom smoked crack while I was inside her.
I prefer a cigarette after sex, but, you know, to each his own.
You know when I was young , when I was a kid I used to think it was funny when adults used potty humor. Like if your grandpa or Morgan Freeman were to say “poopie” Man that shit’s hilarious.
Now I just think it’s funny when kids talk dirty or say really sophisticated things.
I just want you to get a mental image in your head of, like, your four year old cousin, or niece or something, saying, in all seriousness
“I’m going to fornicate under consent of king the vulgar excrement out of your every orifice.
Get’s me hot…
I once had a girlfriend, who, when she was a little kid would walk up to adults and touch their pants and say in just the cutest lost puppy dog voice you’ve ever heard “I like doggy style and really rough.” She’s kind of a bitch. She just turned 28 in dog years. Those are dog jokes.
Now for the PG content of the show:
Does anyone remember the first time they swore?
It’s an exciting time isn’t it?
You’re like in the middle of middle school, or puberty if you’re one of the lucky ones. We all know how it starts, in grade school you dare a friend to say “shhh” and then you say “it” it works really well in libraries.
It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? But it’s hilarious when you’re a kid. Like certain words are off limits- like you can’t say hell, you have to say H-E- double hockey sticks, because you haven’t quite figured out what the last two letters are, you’d only gotten up to the letter K by then, and well it all seemed just so pointless after that. At that age your mastery of the English language equates to little more than comparing letters to shapes you see on television. You reach a breakthrough when you get to the letter “X” realizing of course that if you dare someone to repeat it fast enough over and over again you’ll have cleverly tricked them mistakenly reciting an ancient taboo word that destroys friendships, ruins marriages and make teenaged girls drop out of school. X, X, X, X, X, X
HA! Can’t fool me.
You’re trying to make me say the S-E-X word, well it won’t work.
Not gonna do it- nope, No S-E-X for me, no sir. Can’t make me, even with a 12 inch rod.
And yes, it is. In case you were wondering.
Also a big bonus for the boys once you’ve reached the letter “O” is now you can join the L-A-O club.
Let me mark you with our sacred tattoo, right here, on your right hand, so all men, and women will know that you sir, are a L-A-O man…
Oh dear… now that I’m drawing from the other side that looks awfully like a guy masturbating…
Did anyone see that coming?
Are you right handed? You are? What a coincidence… Are you sure? You never go lefty or anything do you? ‘Cause I could draw another on your left hand…
I wonder if kids get the irony of this…
I’m sure the girls get it, I mean guys will be jerking off on them for the rest of their young adult lives…
Nah, I’m sure the boys get it, boys have been jerking off since the dawn of time. Boys have been jerking off since before they could jerk off.
(pretending to jerk off as a 10 year old) Ugg, uggg, uhhhhg, ugg, uggs, uh, uhh, ugg-ugg-ugg-ugg-UGG!
That’s why men hate Uggs so much, it’s the same soung we all made before they could actually get off. It’s a reminder of over a decade’s worth of blue balls. That’s why teenaged boys always win masturbation contests. Have you never competed in a Beat Off? They’re amazing, a friend of mine holds the record… 1 jerk. Yeah, seriously. 1 jerk. Good luck beating that one.
But seriously I went through 12 years of blue balls. For years afterwards I’d cum as soon as I saw a girl. Which wasn’t too bad going to an all-boys school, except at school plays, they were very convincing…
Oh how fondly I recall my first boner. Do you remember yours?
Wasn’t it great? And scary as H-E double hockey sticks?
My first boner was crazy.
I was 12 years old.
I blossomed early.
6th grade I had my own bedroom for the first time. It was up on the third floor of my house, so it was always fucking freezing. So I had a ton of blankets and pillows. It was like what you imagine a sultan would slumber in if he shopped solely at Goodwill and yard sales.
Anyway so I’m rubbing myself up against this big mink comforter and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sleeping bag my dad got me for my 6th birthday. April O’neil was lookin’ particularly fine that night. So was Donatello… When suddenly and without warning that flaccid piece of skin that always dangled sadly between my legs, occasionally peeing stinky yellow tears gained magical powers, took off his wizard hat and cast a petrify spell on himself. It was ROCK HARD. I mean I’ve never been harder since that night. That’s the thing about preteen dicks- hardest dicks in the world. Except for Brian Swanson, but his is less rock and more a smoky Cherry Oak. Anyway, there I am with a piece of the Agro-Crag sticking out of me at full mast, I mean I could chop wood with this thing.
How much wood could my wood chop if my wood could chop wood?
Anyway, so it’s obviously at that exact moment that to my horror, my door opens.
And who is standing there all handsome and majestic like, but my dog, Ben.
Ben loves peanut butter… but that’s another story.
Anyhow, in walks Ben, and well, you know how we men feel about dogs… and watching…
Mind you, no one told me I was going to grow an extra bone temporarily (I didn’t know they go away) nor did I know that they explode. We didn’t get sex ed. In my school til 8th grade, when it’s basically useless for anyone except to answer important questions like “Can you get pregnant from swallowing semen or do I just rub it on my belly?”
Anyhow, there I was dry humping Mink and Splinter alike when the greatest thing in the history of the universe happened to me, immediately followed by the grossest thing to ever happen in the universe.
But like all household messes, thank god I have a dog…
So I hit a rough patch just before my birthday last year.
I got evicted from my place. Not ‘cause, you know, I’m a dick or anything, I mean sure I wasn’t paying rent or anything, but I wasn’t a dick about it. The people who I was not paying rent to, who leased it to me, didn’t actually own the place. So one day the real owners come in and said “hey man, you gotta leave, we’re evicting you, but here’s $500.”
Does this normally happen with evictions? Because if so I am totally doing that again.
Seriously, sign a lease, don’t give a fuck, don’t pay rent, free place to live, then eviction and CASH MONEY! Fuck Lessors, get paid!
I have a lot of bittersweet weird shit that happens to me, all the time.
For instance, in my family it’s become custom for everyone to call someone on their birthday. There’s 6 of us. Can you imagine 5 separate awkward conversations in which you’re not only reminded of getting older, but asked the exact same questions in each conversation. “How does it feel to be 27th?” It feels a lot worse now that you’re making me think about it. These are never short conversations are they? You know exactly what I’m talking about, the brother that doesn’t care, the sister who’s more important than you, the other brother that also doesn’t care, the mom that wants to make sure you’ve got enough underwear and the father that doesn’t know how to talk unless he’s discussing his particular brand of politics. All I do every year is take calls from people wanting to know how it is to be an age they’ve already been or are afraid they might some day be.
(Smiles) But not this year. Nope. Sorry next of kin, someone stole my phone.
Don’t worry, it’s just a 4S.
I was on the Q train and passed out after a party, you’ve all done this, I know, passed out on the train. When I woke up I had just missed my stop in Brooklyn, and I was Manhattan bound and it was light out. I got a full nights rest on a train. And let me say, it’s not that bad.
I gotta say though, I love the Q train, it’s a great train to live off of. Goes to Brooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, to the beach, to the park, doesn’t go to the Bronx- basically everything you could want on a train- and it runs express!
I was in Queens recently- the Q goes up to Astoria, but before that stop are 36th ave and 39th ave, which you might wonder, why they need two stops three blocks away from each other, but what you are not accounting for, if you’ve never been to Queens is that Queens does not believe in a rational world and deem it appropriate to name 6 or 7 streets with the same name, but a different designation…
It is a 3 mile hike between those two stops. Between which are 36th street, 36th Road, 36th Boulevard, 36th Terrace, 36th Way, 36th End, 36th Lane, 36th Pass, 36th Trail, 36th Court, 36th Bridge, and that’s just the 36’s.
That’s a hyperbole joke.
But seriously I’d hate to be a mailman over there. But what other kind of man is there?
But seriously folks, that’s my punch line.
But seriously, the 3-day rule is bullshit. (Yes, this is my Segway)
I can’t even wait 3 days to jerk off, but you’re telling me I’ve got to wait 3 days to even text a girl?
This is the 21st Century people. 3 days is like a year when a girl gives you blue balls at a club.
See ‘cause we men go in thinking “An outing with Women AND alcohol?! This must be an opportunity to fall in love with the woman of my dreams.”
It’s true, every guy, no matter how brohemian he is just wants someone to hold and love and kiss and caress with every fiber of his penis
Women think we’re insincere because of this, but the truth is, it only makes us more sincere, it’s like we’ve tied a dog leash to our balls and at the other end is a St. Bernard.
That’s right- a saint.
And all he wants to do is find pussy cats and slobber all over them.
He pulls us all around the room sniffing and nudging, he’s a big dog let me tell you, when he gets excited he overpowers us, there’s simply nothing we can do. Like chasing squirrels, it’ll pull us through hell, which tend to be heavily forested with a lot of bumps and bushes.
But all he really wants is for someone to pet him and play with him.
It’s strangely irresistible isn’t it?
Whenever you’re just going about you’re day and suddenly you see a dog hanging out, what do you do?
You go and pet it don’t you?
I pet dogs all the time.
I love petting dogs.
..I wish I had my own…