Author Archives: the kid
This makes me thankful. Thankful for those weird losers who wake up and say, Hmm, I think I will just follow around Hayden Panitierre (probably not spelled right) all day in the hopes that she does something interesting. Well you have reached paydirt here you creeps. Keep up the good work.
Ok. I’d do her. But I have a couple of conditions. Don’t antagonize me with the fact that you can do more pushups than me. Don’t flex in the middle of it because I feel like that would hurt quite a bit. Oh yeah, and continue to make that face the entire time.
Want me to tell you what I hate more than people who drive motorcycles? People who put bumper stickers on their car just so you know that they also drive a motorcycle. Let me just say this to start, guys on motorcylces are fucking assholes. Plain and simple. A good 90% of these guys are just playing out some childhood fantasy about being in a motorcycle gang or some bullshit. This is pure speculation on my part since I truthfully don’t know what the appeal is. What I do know is that I would rather pluck each one of my ball hairs individually with a pair of pliers than associate with these ass clowns. Read the rest of this entry
About “the kid”:
I have worked in a jail for over 7 years and there I’ve seen many unbelievable things. I am going to share some of these stories with you, but I must warn you I have this tendency to mix in stories from movies and tv to make it more interesting or sometimes flat out I just make stuff up. Take it for what its worth and enjoy.
Cry For Help?
Doing a routine round of the block the other day I was startled by a screaming, partially naked man with one of the top 5 mullets I have ever seen. He had his boxer shorts pulled down just far enough so that his genitals were covered, but half of his bare ass was exposed, it was quite a sight. His long and majestic pubic hair glistened off the LED bulbs of my flashlight. As hard as it is for me to accept, this is a part of my daily life. But I digress.
Totally unprompted the man screams, “I fucking hate you, coward!” Again, something that is not a new experience for me. I politely inquire as to what might be this gentleman’s particular beef with me on that day. His retort was equally as confusing as his previous exclamation. “Nah man. We cool,” he says. I cordially begin my decent from his cell having moved on with my day and thinking nothing of it. But alas the story does not end there.
As I got about 2 steps away from the cell my ears were penetrated with the desperate cry of, “I need some fucking help!” It was impossible for me to agree more with this guy (considering I could now easily identify him from the waist down), but I just carried on with my day.
Now you may think I was being cold by ignoring this mulleted, half-naked, crazy man’s cry for help, but when you work at a jail you gain wisdom over the years. I’ve learned 2 things over my time here: The first is not to ask how the plunger got snapped in half and the second is that there is no cure for crazy.