A Mélange of Crap
Or a Pete-pourri, if you will.
Though you probably shouldn’t.
I had a few different things on my mind this morning, though none of which warranted a blog post of their own.
Here the are…
You may not know this about me, but I gave kickass advice. For reals. So, because I love you all… Except you. You are just creepy. But, especially YOU! Your hair looks awesome.
So, I am going to share my sage wisdom with all of you. If you have a question that needs answering, e-mail it in. I’ll answer them in a future post(s) called “Ask Pete” or something equally as lame. It’ll be glorious.
I’ll change the names, etc. to protect all your freaky, freaky secrets.
I’m good like that.
It can be about relationships, sex, me, you, sports, interior decorating, midget hookers, or whatever else scratches you where you itch.
I learned a valuable lesson a while back, fellow bloggers. Never use the first AND last name of an actual person in a piece of short fiction. Especially if it was someone you barely knew in college. Even if they started your love of women wearing cute girl glasses.
People google themselves these days, children.
I’m only mentioning it because I’m sure she stopped visiting by now.
But, it was all kinds of embarassing.
I am not one to brag. I don’t like tooting my own horn. (Totally NOT a euphemism.)
I actually thought that maybe one of you would bring it up… But, whatever.
It seems as if I’ve been named Time Magazine’s Person of the Year.
I’d be lying if I told you that this surprised me.
Specifically they cited my role in “the explosive growth and influence of user-generated Internet content such as blogs, video-file sharing site YouTube and social network MySpace.”
A few world leaders were also in the running, but come on. Do you think that Kim Jong-il has (probably) the most read blog… in his hometown?
And they were considering Jim Baker? Iraq Study Group? I’m from a country that refused to go there in the first place! You can’t cry over that spilled… kettle of fish. (Or unmix that metaphor.)
I deserve this title.
I wonder if it will impress the ladies.
Oh and feel free to tell people that you know me.
Last night I was thinking of a t-shirt idea…
“I visited PeterDeWolf.com and all I got was this lousy t-shirt… and herpes.”
Remember a couple of weeks back when Britney Spears was running around with no underpants on? Well, I sat down and wrote a comic strip. But, I couldn’t find a cartoonist with the time to draw it.
Here it is:
Title panel: “The Wacky Misadventures of Britney Spears’ Vagina” And it has a pic of her vagina wearing sunglasses and riding a roller coaster – or something
equally as fun, but easier to draw.
Panel #1 – Vagina is wearing sunglasses and a trench coat and is
sitting in an office. Somewhere in the office is a sign that says,
“Witness Relocation Program” and there is a dude sitting across from
her at the desk looking at a folder. (Essentially every panel is
going to have the same pic.)
Man: “She married THAT guy?”
Vagina: “Don’t remind me.
Man: “Wow. She let you get your picture taken a lot.”
Vagina: “I got a sunburn from the camera flashes.”
Man: “Paris Hilton tried to get her to close her legs?”
Vagina: “Can you even imagine?”
Man: “We have to get you into the program quickly.”
Vagina: “Oh, bless you.”
Vagina: “Can the c-section scar come too?”
Man: “I don’t see why not.”
Man: “How about a condo right next door to Lindsay Lohan’s e-mail writing ability.”
Vagina: “That sounds nice.
Man just stares at the vagina.
Man: Are you covered in a thin-coating of Cheetoh dust?
Vagina: “Don’t ask.”
This morning when I woke up, I turned on my TV. Instead of watching the news, or something sensible, I watched sports highlights – that I had already seen last night – and spent fifteen minutes trying to develop the perfect secret handshake.
Not that I am involved in anything in the moment that would necessitate such a thing. And not that I foresee any series of events leading to me ever requiring one.
Though I did come up with one that is all kinds of awesome.
Can you tell that I am blog blocked?