Today was the day I was planning on writing an article, but then again you ass-clowns don’t pay me. Plus I’m feeling slow and drowsy from when I chugged NyQuil earlier and ran over a marching band made up of toddlers and chinchillas, as the rhythmic thumping of my large American car spraying adorable guts and miniature batons everywhere always gets me sleepy.
So I actually make lists of articles to write and they all looked like they’d require some iota of research or photoshopping a transformers head on to a dinosaur (tune in next week!). So instead I’ve devised a list of the top ten reasons, that I didn’t write an article. This has coincidentally prompted me to write another article (later) called “Paradox within a Paradox: The story of a Fish having sex with Frisbee”
10. Alien Abduction
I couldn’t possibly write an article today, as today is the day I knock in my front teeth with a horse-shoe and then wander into the woodsy area behind the only general store in Dimshit Junction, Texas. This of course, is prime alien abduction territory. Plus the angry lumberjacks who woke me up sprawled naked on their tractor assured me that aliens are definitely the reason my ass hurts. Why can’t the aliens abduct anyone but a drunk southern yokel?
9. My Dog ate the article
When I say “My Dog” I actually mean my girlfriends dogs, who are about as big as this article and probably weigh about the same too. They’re cute and everything but they’ve been known to choke on a broken tic-tac so they really don’t serve as a great venue for excuses. At least with big dogs they can eat your car tire or jump through a plate-glass window, killing your grandmother. The most I can expect from my duo of fierce shiz-tzu attackers is a sore ankle or nuzzled burglar.
8. Brain Hemorrhage
Here I am, about to write this brilliant article (Titled: Why chicks are hot) when suddenly I’m seized with this acute pain, which is difficult to describe. It’s like getting an entire family of angry badgers in your brain and then lighting them on fire. Their thirst to escape causes them to claw through the soft gray tissue and corneal roots they see before them in an effort to reach freedom. But they never get out and the nerves keep growing back and the cycle increases in intensity. Turns out its just a migraine, but still, close one.
7. Laziness Inversion / LSD Flashback
You ever get so lazy that you forget to breathe? Then you reach the nexus of lazy nirvana and the entire universe actually collapses in on itself from the sheer depth-of-laziness and inverts. Suddenly you become the antithesis of laziness and start doing everything, and then a bright light envelopes all you see before you as you reach peak efficiency and simultaneously accomplish everything (Including writing an article) But you have a moment of clarity and realize that its just that triple-dip purple microdot that you had every day for a week back in 99′. Good times… ah Good times…
6. Because of TopTen Lists.
The advent and popularity of top-ten lists causes me to realize how easy it is to entertain you insult-loving shit shovelers. Then all my creativity drains out like so much urine and I’m left with a sore bladder and no urge to actually string together the pretty words and dazzling metaphors I’m so epically capable of. Instead I churn out a semi-coherent rant about my own failures and you all laugh anyway.
5. Religious Epiphany
So I’m finishing my 73 hours of research that I pour into every single article I’ve ever written and suddenly I’m struck dumb with awe and wonder. Jesus himself reaches from the heavens, lowered on the soft and delicious hand of God to tell me that I have lived in Sin. Not just sin like other people covet their neighbors playstations, but like Sin with a capital ‘S’ that actually means that hell for me will be to be re-incarnated as an actual living penis whose sole purpose is to fuck Satan. I immediately repent all my sins and ask for forgiveness and am informed that in order to guarantee my spot in Heaven, I only have to stop writing that article I’m about to write (Titled: God the fucking fucker).
4. Because of the Number 4
I’m assuming that what I meant by implying that the number 4 actually stopped me from writing is either that I’m writing purely from a stream of consciousness, Or that i’m trapped in some Davinci-Code-Esque plot. A plot where the number four is actually the key to unlocking the human soul and that by making it the fourth from the last item on this list, the Pope has ordered a hit on me for getting “Too Close”
3. Lack of Ideas
My creative process is usually summed up by skimming my favorite porn sites and then getting angry about something I read on Digg last week in my post-orgasmic funk. So in essence, what I’m trying to say is, if there wasn’t anything interesting on the internet last week, its pretty much the world’s fault, and not mine. Because if you bastards had front-paged something worth me getting pissed about, You would be entertained right now.
2. More Important things to do…
I know its hard to believe, but sometimes when I’m not writing articles on CrotchMail I’m actually out saving lives. Grabbing babies from buildings that are near burning ones, because “Hey you never know”. Picking up the crippled kids that my car flung into the cross walk and depositing them gently on the sidewalk, where they have a higher chance of survival. Why just the other day I was visiting the burn ward of the hospital and training my countless hordes of starving scorpions when I saw a poor woman with no friends stuck in traction all day long. I left her wailing with delighted glee as she played with her new friends, Stingy, Miss Venom, Pokey, Scorpy, and Mr. Snips.
1. The number one reason I didn’t write an article
Because I just fucking wrote one and why would I write another? Heh Mr. Snips is awesome.