I will openly discuss flatulence, loose or especially stubborn stool, sexual deviance, and our ex-president without batting a pretty little, almond shaped eye. I like watching horror movies* and surgeries, I do not faint at the site of blood. I enjoy popping, ripe, taunting whitehead zits on myself and others. I even love extolling the virtues of the fruit and vegetable detox diet which result in amazingly awesome Armpoops.*
I’m a guy’s girl.
I don’t bullshit.
I am not squeamish.
For serious, I am not to be fucked with in the gross-out game. You won’t win.*
But, oh my dear Lord in heaven YOU GROSS ME OUT. And I seriously cannot decide which is worse:
- Your body odor. Even after showering, it’s widely known that any anti-perspirant is no match against your wonderfully potent, eye-watering ethnic musk. I do so admire your sweat glands’ stubborn petulance to witholding your George Clinton and Parliament-level of funk from the rest of us. Please shower more often. I implore you.
- Your vurp* inducing, ever-widening girth. WORK THE FUCK OUT and DON’T tell me how you’ve eaten 3 cupcakes at the office party today but you’re “getting your body right.”
- Stank breath. Super hero stank. Octo-mom stank.*
- Your incessant need to be up-in-da-club. I’m not one to judge but you’re a FATHER and if you’re breeding your little one to think that putting a hand up some girl’s skirt completely UNSOLITICED is cool then . . . Ew. That’s all, just ew.
- I mean . . . Everything.
Will someone hug me? Nonononononononono NOT YOU.
Cause you’re gross.
Footnotes:
- Usually hidden in Chocodonis' shoulders or barely hiding my face behind splayed, frigid, and terrified fingers. But whatever, I am THERE.
- Ridiculous, record-breaking poops the size of my freaking arm. I could run a marathon and STILL not feel as fucking accomplished as post-Armpoop.
- TRY ME.
- Vomit/burp. Word I made up that’s awesome.
- I just don’t know, something about her just makes me think her breath is as stank and her huge vagina.**
Footnote footnotes:
- Which I’m pretty sure will never be the same again. EVER. I do wonder if the last one just kinda walked out with an ipod and a gogurt after some quick cardio in her uterus. With all the space in there and all.
