Who Gives a Fuck About Friday When You Work The Whole God Damn Weekend

Broadway skytrain station smelled inexplicably like balls today. The whole fucking station was just so robustly ball-like. I hope it was one extremely smelly person who caused that. That's actually an accomplishment, because the entire station reeked of genitalia. If someone has the, ahem, balls, to not wash that long, they should actually have some kind of bizarre sense of pride about it. I know I would. Who am I kidding, I know I do. So, the question at hand is, should my first random endeavor be gourmet cooking at Urban Fare, or Suck It Like A Pornstar at The Love Institute? For some reason I think I'll end up choosing the latter. If only to make fun of the people there who will be taking it seriously. You expect people who know lots about sex to be, well, sexy. But they never are. Sue Johannsen? Those fucks from all those weird Showcase shows on Friday nights? No! Although I do admit to being a little turned on by them (the shows, not Sue) when I was in high school and I had never seen porn before. They were ugly and weird, sure, but they showed tits on regular cable! Holy shit! ...I fear I've said too much. Afterthought: Fuck you, America's Got Talent. A tranny lip-synching to Tina Turner is not talent. Nor is a four-year old who can lisp her way through "When You Wish Upon A Star". She remembers all the words because her crazy stage parents beat them into her, not because she's a prodigy. That's all.