Glory Holes Are The True Test Of Courage

The other day God spoke to me. By God, I mean Louis C.K. He said, “Jerrica, Bear Grylls wants nothing to do with your flat ass, so stop fantasizing about him piggybacking you up Mount Everest”. God is such a dickhead.

In Louis C.K’s latest stand-up he discussed many interesting topics- like slavery being useful and divorce being better than showering in whiskey. Or was it that when you divorce you are able to shower in whiskey without being yelled at? Either way, I wouldn’t touch him. Mostly from fear that his divorcee liquids have created such a thick adhesive and I’d get permanently stuck to him. Then I would have to walk around for the rest of my life with a fat bald ginger attached to me. That’s it- I can for sure kiss my dreams of being in an all-black choir goodbye.

After grabbing his gut and explaining to us that he is proud to be the last branch for women to grab on their way down to dying alone, he asked the crowd if the saying, ‘there is someone out there for everyone’ is true. That hilarious sticky freckled slob said no. He said there are people out there that no one will ever have sex with.

And to that, I call- bullshit!

For one, prostitutes exist. And if you make enough money, blonde bimbos will start popping up like elves at the end of the rainbow. And boom. The gold pot is now your junk.

Sex will always be available to the grossest of human beings. The fattest man on earth has sex. Regularly! The tree-man -wifed it up. The man with the longest finger nails – wife. The woman who is addicted to eating the insides of her couch cushions – married. A man without a goddamn penis who can only have orgasms from a spot on his thumb- has a wife!

I will give you a moment to go puke up your breakfast. Don’t worry, you’re not pregnant, you’re just revolted.

Of course I agree that there is definitely not a single ‘someone’ out there for everyone. But there will always be someone who will fuck you. Whether it is consensual or not is your business. My point being- the ginger is wrong.

Why? Because there is a difference between soul-mate and sex. Sex is thrust, thrust, high five, peace out. And then you never have to see that person ever again if you don’t want to. Locking down a life partner who you can happily bang then hang out with for the rest of your life is a fuckin impossible feat. I’m not trying to say sex is better than love, but it’s a hell of a lot easier to find. Some Thai she-males may be able to put up with a profusely sweaty wart-filled face for one night, but he-she ain’t bringing it home to mom-pop anytime soon. I think there are at least one thousand someones out there for everyone. There are a lot of great looking people, and a lot of fuckin weirdos. By some unnatural way, they find each other. Sometimes it lasts and sometimes it doesn’t. Should you stop looking, no. Should you keep having sex in the meantime, yes. Why? Because you can.

So, if you have a face scarier to sit on than a gas station toilet seat, don’t listen to him. Some desperate or really well paid alive person will have sex with you. And if that doesn’t work out- there’s always goats or the morgue.

After all, someone let his ginger stick put two babies in her. (I love you Loius C.K.)

Well gang, have a wonderful Friday and try not to think about the guy addicted to eating his own toenails while having lunch today. Or that he is married to a woman who puts her tongue on his contaminated toenail tongue.

Alright! It’s my turn to puke. I hate feet. My fiance put his bare foot on my head yesterday and I almost showed him how 100 pounds can knock out more than six teeth. Maybe next time.

Have a great weekend people! Line that elbow up! High five. Bliss.


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