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Thursday, February 03, 2005

Cunt Funnels: Five For A Dollar

I do not like going to the grocery store.

One of these days, when I get smarter, I'm going to build a robot that can go out and buy food for me. Of course he will also be expected to bring home hot chicks, cheap whiskey, and Cheech and Chong movies, but that just goes without saying.

But since I am still a dumb fuckshit, I don't have a zoomy toony wonder robot, and I'm not any closer to figuring out how to build one.

Hell, right now I'd settle for one of those helper monkeys, or even a midget in an Ewok costume.


I really don't mind buying food, in fact I kind of dig it, what with all the reading labels and figuring out how much food is for sale at what price, and how much I am getting hosed by the big corporations who rape and pillage and all that shit. Nope, I don't mind that at all. The reason I don't like going to the store is because of all the dickhole crapfaces who are in it.

They block the aisles with there fat asses and talk on their cell phones like they are the queens of damn fucking England while they fill their carts with generic brand peanut butter and yell at their kids who all have snotty noses and soiled diapers.

The last time I was in there, I turned down an aisle and saw this chunky lady wearing super tight sweats. So tight that I could see this Kleenex box sized bulge protruding from her crotch that was either the biggest maxi-pad ever made, or a pack of frozen steaks that she was planning on stealing.


Then when I went to check out I got behind this bald old man in a black member's only jacket. I didn't know those things even existed anymore, but the main thing was that even though this walking corpse was bald as an onion on top, he still had plenty of hair.

The trouble was that it was growing out of his ears and matted with yellowy earwax and what appeared to be mud.

Talk about mondo barfo dude. It made me sick, and I turned away, but it's impossible for me to get images like that out of my head because my brain is stupid, plus it hates me.

These are examples of the kind of horse-shit that makes me hate going to the grocery store, and wish that I was that kid on the old twilight zone who could wish everyone out into the cornfield.

That would be sweet.

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