humor » Wolsamnoraa's Blog

Losing My Pills

Life Lessons, Poop Related 8 Responses »

Nov 042009

"Oh great! Now the pills are all poopy, hun!"

I tend to error on the side of caution. When I step out in the rain, I bring a wooden umbrella. When I fart in the sheets I don’t wiggle around afterward. So it troubles me to tell you and the rest of the world that I’m frickin crazy. I’m not crazy like gang bang my virgin asshole and cum on my face with you and twenty-eight of your closest associates. My friend did that once; that sh*t is nuts and now I she can’t ride a bicycle. I’m not even homeless people crazy or cat-lady crazy.

No, my problem is that I am starting to losing my mind. It started a few months ago. Mentally, things just didn’t seem right. I was having hallucinations and fondling my poops in the toilet. I’ve never done that stuff that much. Just to make sure that I was really going mental, I gave it a couple of months. Similar to your Alzheimer stricken grandfather, I’d have good days and bad days (I got gang banged, remember?). The test worked. After three months, I figured out that I hadn’t been feeling right.

I told my wife and she confirmed my senility and suggested/demanded that I seek help. I did. I went to a doctor and she gave me some pills and advice…”don’t take all the pills at once.” It was funny, you had to be there. I began taking the pills just the other day when I lashed out and had a huge fight with my wife. She was so angry and frustrated with my new crazy behavior that she grabbed my pills and flushed them all down the toilet (against the doctor’s wishes, no less). Today, I’m without my pills and the toilet has been vomiting all night and I can’t stop fondling the poopies that come out. I need assistance. I’m sick! Sick I tells ya’!

Do you think I’m crazy? This stuff has really been happening. What do you think I should do? Help, please.

What Up, G?!

Life Lessons 1 Response »

Nov 032009

This was me at a young evolutionary age

I was a kid for a while. That was a rough time for me. I grew up in a tough neighborhood near a Sizzler. The kids in my neighborhood were violent and they wanted me to join their gang. They made me do all sorts of gangster things like steal cigarettes from my parents.

I was told if I wanted to join the gang, I had to build a hideout. I used all of my allowance to build a pillow fort in my basement. I used thumb tacks to keep the sheets pinned to the wall. It was hard-core. They told me that if I wanted to join their gang, I’d have to commit a crime. “I stole a car,” I said. Lying was the crime. I was in the gang.

I was slanging drugs and banging thugs. I held my Nerf suction cup dart pistol with a sideways gangster grip. It was tight…the grip, I mean; I didn’t want to lose the gun. I was the original, genuine thug; an OG…T. I didn’t even own a belt so my pants would always sag gangsterly (the point at which they would fall off).

One day, a Catholic priest called me and said it was time to hang it up and cut the crap. I said that my gangster friends would do harm unto me and my sheet fort if I left. He offered me full protection in his house of worship and a job at the Sizzler.

The priest was banging, alright; banging all the boys. I quit the gang. They said they were going to miss me and that they were sad to see me go. To tell you the truth, I miss them, I miss them a lot. Word to your brother.

God Loves Gays And You Should, Too

Ball Sport, Life Lessons No Responses »

Nov 022009

The ultimate sign that some all-knowing Godish being/sea monster exists is evident in the concept of fate. Fate says that your path is chosen for you ahead of time. There’s no evidence against it, my friend. You will be born and die and what lies between is filler. If you’re a crazy person, the filler might be intermittent murdering sprees and jail time. If you’re ambitious, your life’s filler might be a rise to power followed by jail time. And likewise, if you’re gay, you’re going to have filler, too. Granted a gay person’s filler is more likely to include a butt full of c*ck and then jail time, but the path is predetermined just the same. There is nothing wrong with that. Discovering the person that you are is a feat that most people will never accomplish. Realizing, accepting and living your designed path despite an onslaught of social criticism is even more remarkable. Gay people have shown true courage. Uncovering their true nature takes a lot of balls. In some cases, two sets or more. For that, I commend you, gay people. You can take a licking and keep on pticking. You show what the rest of us how hard it can be to conquer your ambitions in the thickness of adversity. Gays have been granted the biggest challenge and over cumming it is one that the-one-you-call-God can appreciate. After all, you’re doing his dirty work. I couldn’t be prouder. Good job.

Hand Puppets

Life Lessons, Story No Responses »

Oct 272009

He's only smiling because he wants to take your hand to a sick place. He's sick.

If there’s anything that I need to tell you it’s this: hand puppets are a disease. Not only do they scare the bejesus out of little kids and animals, they are gross. From the cheery sentiments of Mr. Roger’s, Daniel Tiger, to South Park’s, Mr. Hat, hand puppets are a sick attraction. Who wants to watch as a grown man or woman grotesquely shoves his or her hand or hands into the inner workings of the representation of a cute animal? Not me; I’d rather just have the real animal. In Lamb Chop’s case, I want to eat lamb; not watch Sherry Lewis stick her filthy mitts all up in it.

It is with the heaviest of hearts that I explain my angst, for it is a story in which I know all too well. This story is one of a small, 20-year-old boy who is curious about his body and eager to explore. He unknowingly took his pleasurable show-and-tell outdoors. His exploits were deemed deceitful and gross in the public’s eye. He became known as a masturbation artist, a shank scraper, a pee-board artist or dick wrestler, a ding donger, a jerk-off, a cock-a-rub-a-do, and a stay-at-home dad. He was terrorized by the ridicule. He escaped to his home. In a purge of suppressed memories, he remembered a time when, during his parents divorce, he was asked by his therapist to role play with hand puppets. These furry representations of his parents relived all of the pain he had wished to dismiss from his parents tumultuous relationship. The boy, now older, was distraught that his penis had become his makeshift hand puppet. Bereft of hope, he was only barely able to finish masturbating with his tears.

Hand puppets account for over six percent of hand accessories in the US and its crooked North American cousin, Canada. Hand puppets are half as cute and twice as deadly as hand puppies. Users beware: hand puppets are awful things. They are dreadful and weird. Please heed caution in your future encounters with these monsters or else you, yes you, might end up alone in your house masturbating.

How Fun It Was To Spend Time With The Indians

family 2 Responses »

Oct 262009

My Indian pals invented the game of monkey cruise trash toss

I’ve got a few friends that are Indians; dot Indians, not feather Indians because the department of corrections said they’re nearly extinct. Boy howdy, let me tell you, they are the most fun people in the world. That’s a good thing because they have over eight billion friends in their Now Network. They make me do all sorts of fun sh*t. We watch porn with our friends in them (they seem to know everybody). They are always saying in their thick, Indian accents, “Oh, I could watch this until I got bored then I would wait ten minutes and watch it again, good golly. She is so hot.” And then we watch them again. We eat a shit ton of spicy curry food. They catch their farts in pickle jars and make me smell them. I can’t stress enough how badly these people smell. They make spreadsheet software and I do my taxes. We talk about marketing deodorant in India and we laugh because it would never sell. Good times. No matter how much fun stuff we do, they always get the best deals. The Jews and the Indians always get the best deals and have the best times. I love you, JPa. Come home soon.

I'm Tough

Life Lessons, Story 2 Responses »

Oct 212009

Tough as snails.

I’m tough. Yeah, you heard me! I’m tough as bullet-proof bricks. I’m so tough that when I bend, I break…your nose. If I were a piece of lumber, I’d be a sixteen-foot long steel I-beam. I get most of my toughness from my parents. My father was tough. The skin on his face was sixty-eight percent rhinoceros hide and thirty-four percent barbed wire. Before my mother met my father, she bare-knuckle boxed grizzly bears at the circus freak show. She wasn’t even apart of the act, the bears just had a bad attitude. I was conceived during a gun fight in which everyone died, including my parents. My heart beat was so strong, I revived my mother and kept her alive for eleven months before deciding it was time to be born. I drank whiskey instead of breast milk. My first toy was machete that I used to shave. My bones are titanium just like the frames on my glasses. I eat light bulbs and piss blood. I’m so tough that I made a woman cry just by whispering my name. I once bit through a rattle snake using its own fangs. I don’t wear shoes in the snow and I don’t wipe my feet. I don’t need oxygen to live because I breathe souls. I Karate chop trees for fun. I’m so tough that when I die, I’ll have to be buried alive. You couldn’t even cremate me because my bones are flame resistant. Yeah, I’m tough alright…definitely tougher than you.

Go hear this audio at The Boy’s Club for Men.

Get Back On That Horse

Animal, Driving Car, Food, Half-ass, Life Lessons, The Future, work 7 Responses »

Oct 132009

Two weeks have come and gone since my fall from grace. I quit my job, I started working out, and I’m drinking again. The cosmos have been set into motion and my universe has been chaotically shredded by the lawn-mower blades of fate. The baby step I took to reclaim my life turned into a stumble that left the virtual pages of WordPress blank. Aside from myself, the biggest losers in this mess have been all of those who look to these posts for motivation and an excuse to mock me. I apologize to all four of you. As for me, however, I made a mistake. While I’ll never regret getting out of that soul-stealing, slave mill I called a job, I regret my preparation for the next step in my life. My goals of becoming a comic/writer/chauvinist have fallen flat, but not for long. I made another step.

I ventured out. Money has been tight since I quit. In an attempt to save on automobile gas, I journeyed by foot to the stable to see my sweet ponies, Success and Virtue. Due to extremely long stretches of immobility indoors, my muscles and lungs had weakened and my tan had all but disappeared leaving my newly acquired bed sores exposed to the elements. Regardless, I found motivation and made my way to the street. I stepped out of my home only to feel my pasty skin bake from the torturous blazes of the autumn sun. My heart rate surged creating a gentle sweat which, while cooling my skin from the sun’s intensity, stung my open bed sores. The sunshine glistened off of my sweaty skin directly into my eyes. As a result of the glare, temporary blindness caused me to see eye-worms; glowing dots in my retinas creating stabbing pain and tears. The eye-worms took the form of Success and Virtue, the fore mentioned ponies I had started out to visit. In all but five minutes in the real world, I had no choice but to second guess my actions. I went back into my home.

Summoning the courage to leave my apartment after the solemn events I conjured, proved to be a difficult task. The heavy burden of taking on a new adventure was scary. Attempting to find my own Success and Virtue caused blinding pain from hot flashes and sweat. The real world’s sun is brutal. Its warming light shines down allowing us to forge a path toward our goals. However, the light can be intense and if a person is not prepared, his journey will be riddled with burn and eye-worms. Ironically, the only way to prepare him is to set him on his journey in the sun’s blazes encouraging each small step forward.

My journey has just begun and there are many steps to be taken. Although the latest action may have been a misstep, it wasn’t all bad. My tan is back and my muscles and lungs are strong again. The sores on my skin have healed (sans my genitalia…that’s right…Herpes). Unfortunately, in the time it took me to build up my tolerance of the real world, my ponies died. Oh well. Success and Virtue don’t always take the form you first expected. At least there will be enough meat to last through winter, thus saving money on grocery meats. Now, I just have to go out there and retrieve it. Ah, sh*t.

The Simpsons

Half-ass, Life Lessons, Story 3 Responses »

Sep 252009

: Big deal Wolfy. Marge is my soul mate. Now show me some inner peace or I’ll mop the floor with ya’.

Sometimes I think I’m being really funny. I’m engaging conversation with strangers and they’re thrilled and captivated; laughing at my every word. And then it hits me. Everything I’m saying is a recital of Simpson’s quotes and situations that I’ve stored away in my subconscious. “Remember the episode when Bart was a baby and Homer wanted Bart to call him ‘daddy’ and after several tries he called Homer, ‘Domer’?” I know that was a funny episode. I know that was a funny event. But in that instance I’m no more than a hack. Simply put, I’m stealing material from other people in an attempt to prove my funniness. The problem is that it works. People love Simpson related stories and quotes. “Do you remember the episode with the Bear Tax? Homer and Lisa are standing in the front yard opening mail and Homer gets his pay check. He’s wondering why his ‘pay is so low’ and Lisa says it’s the Bear Tax that Homer so triumphantly demanded. Then Homer outrageously exclaims something like, ‘I don’t want to pay the bear tax, let the bears pay the bear tax. I pay the Homer tax.’ And Lisa responds by saying, ‘Dad, it’s the Home owner tax.’” The Simpsons are so damn funny. Do you remember how funny that was? Well, I do. And now, in some hacked up version of the real story, you’ll remember it, too. I’m so funny. You’re welcome.

10 Axioms To Live By

10 Reasons, Animal, Ball Sport, Life Lessons, Poop Related, work No Responses »

Sep 222009

We’ve all ventured out into the expanses of the world gleefully returning full of knowledge. Such life lessons always prove to be invigorating and help guide us through life’s meaningless journies. Here are 10 tidbits that I’ve picked up along the way that I remember everyday:

He ate a bunch of rabies ridden clams and wants a kiss

10. “Wild animals don’t make good house pets” – We tried keeping a wild raccoon once. His name was Ricki; Ricki the Raccoon. He ate all of our mollusks and gave our cat the worms.

9. “Rock always beats scissors” – I learned this the hard way…watching a Bud Light commercial.

8. ”Poop stays in the toilet” – It certainly doesn’t belong in my hands or mouth. It took me months to get the stains out of my moustache.

7. “Gay-for-pay is straight” – Life is about doing what you love, not loving what you do. Don’t define yourself based on one experience you had during your “best years”. You’ll just end up confused; ass-a-throbin’.

6. “Pack it in, pack it out” – Showing respect for the world outside of yourself will convey just how incredibly unselfish you are. And isn’t that what it’s about…You?

5. “Cock, step, punch” – I learned this playing high school football. You have to stay low and maintain good technique. Don’t forget to throw out some “pass” and “ball” calls, too.

4. ”If she looks like a man and she talks like a man, she’s alright with me” – Expanding your horizons starts with accepting people for who they are, who they’re not, and who you thought they think that they thought you were.

3. ”Two hands when you’re learning” (thanks Brandon!) – Whether it’s riding a bike or dishing out your first “blowie”, two hands when you’re learning will keep you working hard towards your goals.

2. “Always come prepared” – Preparation is the key to success. Just like bringing a joke book to a gun fight, kids are a terrible mistake. Wrap your (or your partner’s) ding dong up in a condom and you’ll avoid my mother’s 3rd and 4th mistakes (me and my twin)

-And Finally-

1. “There’s no such thing as too much lube” – Designated lubricants like veggie oil, silicon based slickers, lotion, spit and telephone books all exponentially increase fun.

How To Kill A Fly With Your Bare Hands

Animal, Life Lessons, Poop Related, Uncategorized, Versus 4 Responses »

Sep 172009

He's as good as dead anyway; he's not even wearing a helmet

Here is a very simple method to destroy a fly using only your bare hands. This act will not only kill the fly, but also teach valuable lessons to his next of kin. C’mon, really? You’re having second thoughts. Don’t think of his family. Just do it. He’s dirty. You know where he’s been: poop, vomit, trash. And that was just breakfast. He’s spreading disease on you. Ew. Grow a pair and kill him. Everyone else is doing it and here’s how…For this task, you’ll need a set of hands. You’ll also need enough patience to wait for a good moment to strike. For this to work, there’ll need to be a single fly bothering you; more than one and it’s a sign you’re dead and rotting. Usually, if you’re focused at work or peacefully enjoying the day, one will come along. When you are sufficiently bothered, you’ll need to pretend that you don’t care that the fly is buzzing around. Don’t flail as you will only briefly scare it away, thus making the annoyance last longer. Act naturally and he’s sure to fall into your trap. Once he’s comfortable flying near you, you may start the procedure. First, see where he likes to go. In the two flies I’ve ever dealt with liked my skin. Maybe it’s because I smell like sweat and garbage. When I gently shooed them away, they would fly up, circle in the air, and then land on my desk. Based on these experiences, I undoubtedly say that all flies will repeat this. Next, you’ll need to position yourself in a way that you can easily clap your hands together directly above the fly. Now, wait for him to land. When he settles on the desk, slowly move your spread hands about 3 inch above him. He should be centered between your soon-to-be-clapping/killing hands. Finally, when he takes off, which he will…Clap! If you missed, repeat this process until the bugger is dead. Ta da! Congratulations! You’ve just committed murder.

I’ve Always Wanted To Be A Comedian

Life Lessons, Story, The Future 1 Response »

Sep 162009

I’ve always wanted to be a stand-up comedian. Looking back over the years, I’ve gotten a huge response from people just by talking and acting the way that I do.

I read this article that explained making your friends laugh doesn’t actually make you a funny person. Sure, my friends laugh at me, but they laugh at lots of other stuff, too; real comedians, for example, or the musical stylings of the Play-him off cat (see below), to name something else.

Fortunately for me and my dream, I have an uncanny ability to make strangers laugh or, at the very least, cringe. While I believe in my inherent abilities to humor people, my desire to get up on stage is hindered by a small hurdle. Quite frankly, I am scared to be on stage. I attribute the fear to a poor performance I gave in the third grade. I was playing Anonymous Man #2 alongside the wonderfully talented Falon Mahoney in the Westgate Elementary sensation, A Christmas Carol. I had one line – “I’m just a man whose anonymity should remain intact”.

I bombed in front of the whole school, parents and talent scouts. I forgot the line. I stammered on my speech and on my feet. I tripped into the set and knocked over a backdrop which broke a spot lamp above the stage. It fell directly on top of our school’s only prodigy and the play’s leading man, Nathan Hale. He was injured instantly. After that hack job, I second guessed myself whenever I got in front of an audience bigger than five deaf-mutes.

The underlying problem may be that I have just convinced myself that I’m scared. I haven’t actually performed on stage since then and it stands to reason that I don’t know what I’m scared of. I’ve always heard that courage is something you gain after you overcome your fear.

Maybe the best way to achieve my goal is to just go out there and give it a try with my nerves fluttering. But if I accomplish my goals, what will I have to complain about not achieving?

10 Reasons I’ve Ever Been Scared

10 Reasons, Animal, family, Food, kids, Life Lessons, Poop Related No Responses »

Sep 152009

I took a picture of my perineum using a mirror. This isn't it.

There are a lot of things out there that keep me indoors and away from windows. My life revolves around avoiding things that scare me and wearing hair nets. As much as I’ve tried to overcome some of my most basic fears, I always find ways to reinforce them. The following is a compilation of the 10 worst times I’ve ever been scared:

10. My poop turned blue for three days after eating TCBY’s Arthur the Aardvark’s Cotton Candy flavored frozen yogurt.

9. After snapping some voyeuristic pictures behind a circus tent, I was mauled by a black bear.

8. I was unable to take back a pair of denim jeans at the Gap. Now I just keep things.

7. I got a bee sting on my boner. (Thank you, Johnny & J-Pa)

6. I cut my perineum (see left; “incision”) on a barbed-wire fence while tobogganing in France. I had to wear a heavy flow maxi-pad for a week. (And that’s the closest I’ve ever been to a woman.)

5. I was held at knife point at a McDonald’s drive-thru for sarcastically ordering a “Crappy Meal”.

4. I held a pee in so long playing the drinking game Edward Forty Hands that urine sprayed out of my nipples.

3. My mother adopted me from my grandmother.

2. Thinking I had found the last morsel of food in my house, I once ate a lot of cat food.

-And Finally-

1. A maniacal and murderous clown named Adam who lives in a brightly colored school bus parked in a mountain meadow is stalking me via MySpace. (My real name is Liz)

Welcome To The Future

Life Lessons, The Future No Responses »

Sep 142009

Can you even f#ckin’ believe how close we are to the future? Tomorrow is coming? Yeah, right. Tomorrow is already here, and I’ll tell you why: I was sitting on the couch the other day with my beautiful flat screen television radiantly glowing with syndicated entertainment. As I sat poised in front of the TV’s warming vibrancy, I was surfing the interwebs with my lap top. It struck me as odd when, in the middle of Hulu.com’s presentation of the Office, TBS was running the same episode. Thanks to the bitchin’ audio setup I have on my teev and the hair raising volumetrics on the laptop, I was hearing Micheal Scott’s brilliance in this awesomely, staggered double stereo echo deal. As awesome as it was, I realized that TV is a medium for showcasing regularly scheduled programming, syndicated and new, that no one is watching. Even if you turn it on, you’re not even really watching it. As people grow into the future, they are beginning to crave interaction. Just like your very Jewish mother or dust collecting Nintendo Wii, people want things they can control. What’s on TV cannot be controlled and “regularly scheduled” has become as offensive a term now as cum drunk gutter slut was back in the 90′s. Even though you can’t control what’s on TV, just like catching your roommates doing sex, you can control what you see. Computers, specifically ones connected to the Internet, have the distinct advantage of allowing viewers to tickle their entertainment fancies whenever and with whatever they want. TV is competing with OnDemand programming and huge caches of videos (television shows, movies, amateur porn and everything in between) on a slew of websites. I believe that the only reason that TVs even exist today is that they are pretty to look at. It would be so much simpler if there was a more complicated technology that combined the visually appealing format of television with the computing power of a computer. Fortunately, for us future dwellers, this technology already exists. It’s called imagination. I believe with a little know-how and a lot of money, we have the power to dream up something more futuristic and technologically advanced than the archaic drudgery of today. I look forward to that time now.

Dead Rabbits

Animal, Ball Sport, family, Food, Injury, Life Lessons, Story, Tookie 2 Responses »

Aug 252009

Tookie is my cat and we live on the third story of a condominium building. He is extraordinary in every way. He is cute and fun like a small human. He bites hard and sleeps well. Even the way his huge craps stink is immaculate. Unfortunately for him, he is an outdoor cat trapped inside a indoor cat’s house. Sometimes, however, he is allowed out when I leave the house and the neighbors are gone. And this is where one of his best features kicks in. In order to get back into the condo after I let him outside, he doesn’t just wait at the front door making a scene for no one to hear like all the other idiot cats out there. No, he’s better than that. Using pure prowess and power, grace and skill, he scales the back side of our building with his cat-like claws and incredible strength. He jumps on our back porch and comes in through a dog door I paid for with my mother’s retirement money. This morning, I let Tookie outside a little earlier than usual so that he could exercise his handsome feline features. Which he did.

Tookie sometimes reminds me just how close to nature we actually live. We are a mere 20 yards from open space and, because of this Tookie and I have an agreement: He may only take memories and leave only footprints. Today he violated that agreement. He caught, maimed, killed, carried up the building, sat down on my kitchen floor with, and devoured the head of a baby rabbit (otherwise known as a cutie or a babbit). It’s pretty incredible what my cat is capable of. It’s even more incredible how much he can just kill an innocent creature with no remorse only minutes after I fed him. But I’m not even mad; I’m actually a little proud. Look what he can do! Commit murder? The thing is I just don’t want to clean up his pukes. Maybe if I leave it, my lover, JDubs, will clean it up with a trash sack and spare me the trouble.

Tookie eats rabbits like a man juggles; with balls

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Wolsamnoraa's Blog

What Up, G?!

God Loves Gays And You Should, Too

Hand Puppets

How Fun It Was To Spend Time With The Indians

I'm Tough

Get Back On That Horse

The Simpsons

I’ve Always Wanted To Be A Comedian

Welcome To The Future

Dead Rabbits

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