Wednesday, July 15, 2009

Year 4: The Almost Porn Years

Near my hometown we have a lot of blueberry fields. Maybe because I spent most of my second year on earth as a Mexican, or maybe because they wanted a couple buckets of blueberries, but I distinctly remember being forced into the local blueberry fields to pick until my hands were raw.

It was there I fell in love for the first time.

His name was Raul.

HA!

lol, rofl, lmao, lololololroflmao!

Oh, I've done it again! I don't know how I do it, but I've been cranking out the funny ever since I flew in this morning. (And boy are my arms tired!)

No worries, I wasn't gay. I was just mainly having sex with dudes.

LOLOLOLOL!!!!!111

(Quick side note: There has got to be a good "Who's on First" type routine for fags in England looking for other fags but getting cigarettes instead. or vice versa. I can't make it funny right now, but I'm telling you it's in there somewhere.)

My fourth was the year that my dad was going to get a fancy new satellite dish for the house until he got in a bad car accident and had to spend the money on repairs. And to think, I could have been looking at scrambled porn almost 7 years sooner!

This lack of scrambled porn forced me to keep JC Penney catalogs stashed in between my mattress and box spring so I could easily access photos of granny panties whenever I deemed it necessary.

It's amazing to think back to the days of no computer or cell phone, watching scrambled satellite dish signals for flashes of titties, and desperately watering my pet rock.

Who never grew, by the way.

Minutes to spare before I turn 5 tomorrow. Big day.

p.s. Dear Totally Gay Online Diary: Cheryl was mean to me today. I still want to touch her boobies. The frequently angry snake in my pants still seems to be impressed.

1 comment:

pokerpeaker said...

Can you imagine being 14 today in the age of the Internet? No wonder obesity is growing among teenagers. Seriously, has anyone looked into this. I don't think I'd ever leave the house. The fact that all we had was a Playboy I dug out of the trash in the back of a bookstore and the occasional Sears catalog saved me from a life of 250 pounds and pasty white skin.