"These Five Words I Swear To You"

Hair Band Friday has been a shitstorm today. Literally. It was not for the faint of stomach. You see, last night, Kitty and Misti were all doped up on some killer hash, and they started arguing about which one of them would get the pleasure of, well, pleasuring me first after I finished dictating a letter to a client this morning. Since they were both starving, they decided to settle their contest by seeing who could eat a bag of spinach the fastest. Kitty won, but I soon found out that everyone lost. I dictated the shit out of that letter this morning. In fact, I would go so far as to say that I dictated like no one has ever dictated before. Subtle pauses, breathtaking pronunciation, and not an unfamiliar spelling left unexplained. Frankly, it left me a little woozy, which is why I started mixing coke into my Red Bull and vodkas. Anyway, no sooner than I finish blaring "Coma" by G N' f'n R, "Rock Me" by Great White, and "I'll Be There For You" by Bon Jovi, in preparation for what I assumed would probably be a string of between like 10 and 30 orgasms, does Kitty (who was under my desk at the time) start to complain that she's feeling nauseous. "Get off my wang now!" I yelled. Then shit really started to get crazy, and by "crazy" I mean "all over the leopard skin rug that I for some reason have under my desk." I recoiled, as you might guess, and I look over at Misti, thinking that I'd at least get some from her, but she's puking in the trash can. Next thing I know there are two naked chicks lying on the floor moaning not in ecstacy, but in gastrointestinal horror. It's bad enough that I have to compete with some of the other dudes here at the firm, but now I have to compete with E. fucking Coli. Luckily I had some morphine, latex gloves, Febreze, and a couple huge black garbage bags. Needless to say, Misti, Kitty, and that rug ain't here anymore, but my office does smell "mountain fresh," whatever the fuck that means.

I have nothing much to say today, although I think I might be going to hell, if there is such a thing. I will give a GMYH shout-out to Kevin "Scorpioooooooo" Yeh for being Mr. 28,000, even though it means nothing more than an internet shout-out from a fellow Scorpio who used to be his roommate. But the lucky person who happens to be Mr. or Mrs. 30,000 will of course get a free GMYH Biography. And yes, I know Mr. 15,000 is absurdly long overdue (like about 4 1/2 months). It is mostly done.

Have a great weekend, and stay away from spinach.