Garbage day


Here’s what I’m throwing out this week:

My grey sweater

The trash in my Garbage day feature is mostly unreal because I truly believe one’s garbage is the window to one’s gmail password. But this entry is the total truth because some fallen soldiers are worth memorializing provided they didn’t try putting undies on the General’s houseplants, figuratively speaking. Anyway, this particular item is real. My mom gave me a rock solid grey sweater for Christmas ten years ago and since the old girl started getting holes in her elbows, I decided to put her in the donation bag along with some used socks that even Oscar The Grouch wouldn’t snort. It’s probably unfair to the deal donkeys searching Goodwill for sweaters without elbow holes, but I feel weird throwing cottons in the same bin as old banana peels and peanut butter filled condoms.

My subscription to Golden Globes Magazine

Turns out they air a three hour special once a year that kind of defeats the purpose of getting the bi-weekly magazine once a month. Luckily for me I stuck around long enough to get my free Golden Globes fleece pullover with sewed-in champagne detector.

Not this milk

I bought some new milk last week but I was distracted by all the feminine yogurts I was surrounded by and failed to read the expiration date. I like my beef cream to be fresh for two weeks, giving me enough time to suck back every last drop. If that means I gotta mix it with glue and lavender to make a shampoo, so be it, as long I’m able to throw away an empty carton knowing it wasn’t wasted on sour-milkin’ my prank war adversary, Jeffrey. Anyway, the milk I bought only had one week of purity and I knew my wife and I didn’t have the enough Garlic ‘n Sugar Cheerios needed to drain it in such a short period. At this moment it’s one day past its expiration, but I don’t give a shit because 2014 is the year of AGGRESSION. I’m going to aggressively keep the milk and sip on it until it starts smelling like a performance artist’s hockey equipment.


And finally, my friendship with these bozos. I lend them the map to my hot spring for ONE night and they fill it with frog semen? I’m a pretty reasonable guy and usually I’d let this one slide, but when I met up with Linda (pictured on the left), she bore a mark that looked like the Chinese character for “barf”. Jeffrey. He struck again, this time influencing my most easily manipulated friends and soiling my spring at the same time. The saga continues? No, it’s only just begun. PRANK WAR PART 4 – The Second Waging.

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