Toilet Plungers, Ghostbusters, and Cave Fucking at Inopportune Times

I went to Wal-Mart today to buy a few needed sundries. Yes, I know Wally-World is the Evil Empire, but it's what I can afford, and even their prices are getting steep on certain items. $6.37 for Listerine? Guess my teeth will be rotting. I bought Q-tips, tape, soup, cereal, and a toilet plunger. This last item spent the rest of the trip home jutting plunger-first from my backpack. Roomie pointed out that I looked like a Ghostbuster, trawling the city in search of ghosts and goblins.

Roomie has a knack for pointing out such things. After I wondered who in their right mind would stop to bonk while awaiting the ruthless Viking hordes, he asked, "Well, would you turn down Karl Urban if he were offering the free and unfettered use of his manbits?" He also pointed out that no man in his right mind would forego the opportunity to drill Moon Bloodgood like a protected wetland.

Touche. If I were going to meet a bloody death, my dying wish would be to have a filthy threesome with Don Flack and Richard Kruspe, and never let us mind the uncomfortable rock outcropping, dongle-freezing cold, and pressing moral imperative to do more sensible things, like watch for approaching enemies or double-check my feeble arsenal.

And if Karl Urban wanted to join in, I wouldn't kick him out of the cave, either.

Toilet Plungers, Ghostbusters, and Cave Fucking at Inopportune Times

I went to Wal-Mart today to buy a few needed sundries. Yes, I know Wally-World is the Evil Empire, but it's what I can afford, and even their prices are getting steep on certain items. $6.37 for Listerine? Guess my teeth will be rotting. I bought Q-tips, tape, soup, cereal, and a toilet plunger. This last item spent the rest of the trip home jutting plunger-first from my backpack. Roomie pointed out that I looked like a Ghostbuster, trawling the city in search of ghosts and goblins.

Roomie has a knack for pointing out such things. After I wondered who in their right mind would stop to bonk while awaiting the ruthless Viking hordes, he asked, "Well, would you turn down Karl Urban if he were offering the free and unfettered use of his manbits?" He also pointed out that no man in his right mind would forego the opportunity to drill Moon Bloodgood like a protected wetland.

Touche. If I were going to meet a bloody death, my dying wish would be to have a filthy threesome with Don Flack and Richard Kruspe, and never let us mind the uncomfortable rock outcropping, dongle-freezing cold, and pressing moral imperative to do more sensible things, like watch for approaching enemies or double-check my feeble arsenal.

And if Karl Urban wanted to join in, I wouldn't kick him out of the cave, either.