Friends Drink From The Red Sports Bottle

 

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"I like your site, but it sure is black...."

"Timmy, its so black....."

"Wow Timmy, your site is well...black..."

Thank you all for your keen observation.

Sherlock Holmes look out, we have up & coming detectives.

I ain't going to lie, I'm hung like a Chinese man with straight pubic hair.

I need to compensate somewhere.

As Wesley Snipes says, "Always bet on black."




Friendsday!

Friendsday is tomorrow....

Please someone shoot me.

I'm sick & tired of hearing about these dolts. I have one channel, NBC, and over and over and over and over Friends are popping up everywhere like an outbreak of genital crabs.

I'm sick of it.

And whoever said that Ross & Rachel are the perfect TV show couple? I mean come on!!!

Rachel is a bigger slut than a hooker on nickel night and Ross is...well, he's MAGOOISH

Please get off my TV screen.

I would rather stare at a genital wart with a pubic hair sticking out of it for 2 hours than watch the season finale. The show is ending, cause everyone is getting married and/or moving away.

Boo Hoo.

They're almost 40....it's about fucking time.




The All Purpose Red Sports Bottle


So I wasn't going to talk about this, but I sorta need to, cause well...I need to.

Last week I went to our Portland office and flew in my boss' plane. It's a two engine propeller type of plane that can sit up to 6. I don't know the name of it or the actual type of plane, so don't leave comments asking me all these bullshit questions about the plane, cause honestly, I don't know.

I do know that Ritchie Valens died in a plane that looked similar to this plane.

I know this cause I've seen the movie "La Bamba" like 31 times.

Movies don't lie.

I put these headphones on and up into the air we go. I would go into more detail about our liftoff but my ass was clinched hard enough that Richard Simmons wouldn't even be able to get a tongue in. What does that mean? I don't know really, it sounded funny in my head but I don't know what it means.

It was actually very cool. In fact, it was rad.

Totally rad!

I was enjoying the scenery and all that good stuff, when my boss whips out this red container that looks like one of those drinking bottles that attaches to a bike. Only, it wasn't for drinking - trust me on that.

Allow me to explain.

When you are up 10K feet you are basically stuck in your chair. Eating a watermelon the night before and drinking a pot of coffee in the morning, a liquid starts developing inside your body.

My fun world of being up in a tiny plane suddenly crashed like Scott Baio's career.

My boss put a towel over himself and advised me that he had to take a leak...he told me not to drink from the red bottles and don't wipe your face with the towel. This piece of information was more obvious than my website being black, but my boss felt obligated that I should know these vital facts of information nonetheless.

We were up in the air for a total of 3 hours. My boss took a piss 4 fucking times.

Apparently when you get old your bladder shrinks.

He filled that red gallon bottle to the top and told me that he might have to use my red bottle.

Jesus Christ.

You can have my bottle, cause I couldn't do it anyways.

You see, I can't perform like that under pressure. I can't relax. I can't piss in a red sport looking bottle with a towel draped over me 10 thousand feet in the air in a plane that looks exactly like the one that Ritchie Valens died in.

I couldn't do it.

I wouldn't do it.

So I sat there and held my piss in for 3 hours while my boss happily took leak after leak like a bearded pregnant chick at a circus.

He took one leak on the way home....I'm contacting the World Book of Records.