Get 2 Choppin

I’d rather be stuck in a padded cell that smells like year old cat litter with a possessed pussycat all hopped up on catnip and who has a bad case of the wild turkey whisker breathe and who thinks I am a giant version of his arch nemesis Mickey Mouse (although an extremely muscular version) and is ready to put the “ow” in meow when it comes to the area that I like to call, “the beauty zone” a.k.a. my face than to sit by quietly as some old lady that looks like a wrinkly prune and who obviously still has the same bug that crawled up her ass while she was cooking the meal for the last supper give me the stink eye.

I’d also rather not say why I called her “skeletor” and gave her Kevorkian’s new number but trust me she deserved it. I think or it might have been the one next to her but someone deserved it. My lawyers are sorting that little fiasco out.

I’d rather douse myself in 10 dollar a gallon gasoline and run through a poorly run Taiwanese Match factory covered with a really thin layer of flint on the souls of my shoes wearing a giant panda outfit and having to sing “Kung Fu Fighter” anytime somebody pulled the string attached to my nose ring that I had put in specifically for the occassion than to have to ever try to be as cool as this guy that was at the Tom Jones concert. I mean the coordination and guts that it takes to wear the all red USC Trojan outfit without sleeves while looking stylish in the Ric Flair sunglasses and the mullet to boot.

It would be like trying to attempt the “damn near” impossible, which is one step above the “never gonna f@#king happen its so” impossible concept of being able to remove the social stigma of being an onion from someone of the likes as Bellows or Wagon Train and I’d rather throw those two down an endless black hole that smells like fermented monkey brains but that is another story and I have to get back to digging. 

Everyone has that one kid in their group that just ruins everything. Somehow it could be the best day of your life and that “friend” could be one hundred miles away but somehow they would call up and tell you that your mom has cancer because he left the microwave on over night in your house and her room is directly behind it and the excessive radiation seeped into her bones and oh by the way they have a flat and can you come pick them up. We call this person: bellows.

If I was injected with a deadly toxin that was slowly making my genitalia shrivel up and also making me go blind and causing me excruciating pain before it eventually killed me I would rather use the last needle in the world to inject a bubble of air into Bellows vein than use it to inject the antedote into my own body.  

Doppler Dan was quoted as saying if he was stuck in a room with two rabid werewolves and Bellows and he had two silver bullets in a gun that he would rather shoot Bellows twice. Of course the werewolves probably have more integrity anyways.

If, as I was hanging out with Bellows, I was about to be attacked by a fat, ugly blood thirsty female vampire that looks like a cross between Rosie O’ Donnell and Scottie Pippen with a weave and I only had one wooden stake I would rather drive it through Bellow’s heart knowing that I would have to be the love slave to the nasty ass vampire chick while having to wear a turtle neck for the rest of my life even though I don’t look good in a turtle neck and I hate constricting things around my neck than to see him live another day of complete and utter stupidity.

If Bellows and I were the last two people on earth and there was one female egg left in the entire universe that I could use to repopulate the world with I would rather use it to egg his house than to make more people suffer through his lack of integrity and complete and utter ability to sell out his friends at the drop of a hat.

I would rather play a game of tag with flesh eating zombies knowing that if I lose I will be in a continual state of undead for the rest of eternity than to have Bellows as my partner in any game.

It appears I was a tad bit offensive last time to the ladies in regards to last I’d rather post. Well I am here to make amends for it the best way I know how. I am going to write another I’d rather and just show the ladies that I have no hard feelings for the nasty comments they left. Trust me I like women’s sports just not as much as men’s sports but I guess that is the society we live in. I mean a girl just dunked the other day so anything is possible right.  I was there to see USA women’s soccer win the world cup and that Brandy Chastain rip off her shirt in celebration. I got no problem with that. I watch beach volleyball and it is cool. I cheer for Danica Patrick. I am just a sports snob that is why I like higher levels of competition male or female.

Thus that is why I’d rather spend an entire day with a girlfriend and all her friends who I can’t stand and are all on their period during the day after Thanksgiving as they shopped for clothes at every store in the mall while my favorite college team is playing football than have to watch the Lions blow another game.

I’d rather watch the entire catalog of episodes for all the seasons of Dancing with the Stars and the Bachelor while being asked questions that can never be answered correctly or fast enough such as “Do I look fat in this outfit?” and “Do you remember the first time we ever had vanilla yogurt with sprinkles on it and not the chocolate sprinkles but the multi-color sprinkles and not the fat-free stuff but the lowfat kind of yogurt?” than have to watch Roy Williams do his stupid first down signal when they are down by thirty.

I’d rather do arts and crafts, such as those scrapbooks, with a bunch of old women talking about their gouters and rheumatism and then have to go to Starbuck’s to discuss my feelings with my significant other than have to watch the Lions draft another wide receiver in the first round and then waste numerous high draft picks on players that don’t even play.

I’d rather while in Vegas instead of hanging out with friends at a raunchy bachelor party with free drinks and free dancers go with my mom (don’t ask why see is in Vegas with me it is a whole gambling thing I don’t want to discuss) to a Celine Dion concert were she doesn’t sing her one song from Titanic the only one I would possibly know than have to watch the Detroit Lions sign Matt Millen the losingest GM ever to a contract extension.

See Ladies it is about performing at your best and pushing yourself harder than anyone else that gains respect, unlike the Detroit Lions. I will say this though I will always have the utmost respect for any women that is a crossfit women and/or one who strives seriously to excel in whatever she does. Just kidding, but seriously. So don’t get your panties in a bunch.  

I’d rather get my wisdom teeth pulled with rusty pliers and without nitrous oxide or any form of pain medication and in the backseat of a van in Detroit with the logo, “get yo toof fixed here” than watch girls basketball.

I’d rather have my penis circumsized by a blind doctor who is an alcoholic and has just quit drinking for the first time in a decade and is shaking like he is having a seizure and only uses branch cutters dipped in a vat of hot sauce than watch girls cross country.

I’d rather be a massage therapist who can only get a job working on fat people who all have bedsores because they can’t get out of bed and who gives happy endings because they can’t see their private parts and the massages always take place before the guy with the power washer comes in than watch a girl’s lacrosse game

I’d rather have a glass test tube filled with soap stuck in the tip of my penis while driving across a parking lot with speed bumps at full speed without any suspension on the car than watch a girl’s softball game.

I’d rather dig a hole so only head is sticking out of the ground have scalding hot maple syrup poured on my head next to a huge anthill while I have headphones on that keep on playing over and over again the sound of screaming babies than watch a powder-puff football game. 

I’d rather use an electric drill with an industrial sized bit the size of a souvenir bat while standing in a bathtub of ice cold water and homeless person urine with open wounds on my feet to remove the hairs from my nose than watch a girl’s volleyball game.