GWiMMRN, Great Big Monday Edition
I hope you're having a great big day today. I mean, really big. All 24 hours long, because you've earned it. Yes you have. No, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about, but that's okay. All this is really just a preamble to make you feel better about guessing what's in my mouth right now:
A) A wedding cake worth getting stabbed to death over
B) The Pearly Gates
C) The Pearly Stream Shooting Out of My Penis
D) The pathos-inspiring words, "i want to go to sleep, but all i can do is cry," followed by a hot gush of briny liquid that isn't tears
E) Stool strain
F) A stool sandwich served in a hand-made hot dog bun and slathered with store-brand mustard
G) Meg Ryan's hairy li'l snatcheroo
H) A big, fat cockeroo
A) A wedding cake worth getting stabbed to death over
B) The Pearly Gates
C) The Pearly Stream Shooting Out of My Penis
D) The pathos-inspiring words, "i want to go to sleep, but all i can do is cry," followed by a hot gush of briny liquid that isn't tears
E) Stool strain
F) A stool sandwich served in a hand-made hot dog bun and slathered with store-brand mustard
G) Meg Ryan's hairy li'l snatcheroo
H) A big, fat cockeroo
posted by My Mouth at 7:14 AM
12 Comments:
call me.
Dear Fecal Buddy,
Slow transit constipation is the most common form.
But how do you turn slow transit into MASS transit?
You're making a mockery of my front door. STOP IT.
What's briny and isn't tears?
Is it some form of ejaculate? Is it pee-pee?
Hello, hello, Ash? You there? Good.
BLOW ME.
*click*
I would APPRECIATE it if you would not refer to my private parts as, and I quote, a "hairy li'l snatcheroo."
You may call it "Meg Ryan's Ting-Ting," or, if you are feeling particularly whimsical, my private parts may be referred to as, "Meg Ryan's Ever-Cock-Hungry Tuna Taco With Extra SUHHHHH-NATCH Hair."
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Meg Ryan
Oh, by the way. Ash: call me.
My Ting-Ting awaits.
St. Peter: I'm about to splatter My Second Coming all over your Pearly Gates. Prepare yourself: I shall require baby wipes, a washcloth, and a cigarette.
And get Jordan on the phone.
WE LOVE YOU, PUBES! DON'T CHANGE A THING!
Actually, I DO have time to contradict all of these false statements, unlike my greatest friend and most favorite rhinoceros salad-tosser Deroy Murdock, "Patron Saint" of GWiMMRN.
Once again, I protest to this mislabeling of my private parts. Fan Club or no, please call them "Meg Ryan's Ting-Ting" or "Meg Ryan's Ever-Cock-Hungry Tuna Taco With Extra SUHHHHH-NATCH Hair."
Thank you.
Sincerely,
Meg Ryan
I...see...a white light...
And...O God, it's...it's the pearly gates!
*SPPPURRRTTTTT!!!*
The...jism...of the Lord...
Oh GEEZE. Somebody jizzed all over these fluffy white clouds I'm standing on. EWWW. And it's dripping from the pearly gates! YUCK!
I thought that heaven would be a place where, finally, everyone would be GROWN UP. Apparently, this is not the case.
Even in heaven some people need a reminder to GROW UP.
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