bigpimpinmba's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oprah_Can_Bite_Me Hey Oprah. You Steadman-shagging Harpo Ho-Bag You can go ahead and nibble taint. I�ve put up with the questions from the wife about what Oprah has intimated that I should be doing And saying AND feeling But this time, you�ve gone too far. Now, you had to go and mess in a topic that I hold dear to me. A subject that you really have no business talking about. Now, you�ve ruined one of my favorite times of the day. You screwed with the dropping of the deuce. What right do you have talking about what is obviously man�s territory on your Summer�s Eve hocking douche-fest that you put on every day? Apparently, Oprah had an episode where she had some Shit-Gurus on the show who could tell about your Ka based upon your what your shit looks like in the bowl. Now, the most I know about this subject is that poop is always funny and you can certainly tell if you�ve eaten certain starchy-vegetables or blue icing. Apparently, this isn�t enough information for the Oprah-watching biddies of the world. Just so you know, Shelly Shitstain, the Crapping expert insists that all shit should be smooth, curv-ey and should require minimal straining. Oh yeah�. Your shit should look like a giant, brown letter �S� when you are peering at it in the bowl. Come on. So, now, when I get out of the bathroom, there is an inquisitory period where I am asked how things went and if there were any letters evident in the bowl. Even my wife�s friends know about this episode of Oprah and will discuss it at length at the drop of a hat. This thing is spreading a hell of a lot faster than this bird flu that they keep talking about. (By the way, when they keep talking about the bird flu, does anyone else picture Big Bird puking his guts out in Oscar�s trash can or losing control of its bowels on a passing car as he sitting on the high tension wires, covering the car in brown sludge? Me neither.) I�ve crapped many a work of art in my life, including Nessie (many humps protruding from the surface) as well as the Greek letters Upsilon (�) and Xi (� ) and I refuse to be limited to a single letter with my art. How exciting would that be? I like a variety in the bowl. The last thing I want is to be considered is the equivalent a one-dimensional hitter, who either hits it out of the park or strikes out. I like to be able to spread out my hits, kind of like David Ortiz�. Sometimes, I can hit the long ball and deliver an S the size of a small child. Sometimes, I can sacrifice bunt by leaving a bunch of small balls in the infield bowl. Other times, the infield needs a good watering and I won�t go into details. In other words, I don�t want to rule anything out. I want the Umpires of MLS (That�s Major League Shitting) to have to pull out the rule book once in a while or to call a conference to decide whether what I did could even be considered a hit. And, while I�m at it, I want Chris Berman to announce my next game in primetime. Now, if you would please excuse me, I�ve got to go look at some poop. Before anyone makes fun of me too hard for the template colors, I know. They suck. I�m working on it. But you have to love the 8-Ball cane as a spacer� Don�t you? 2:51 p.m. - 2005-10-20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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