Wallnuts After Dark
Madonna Mia! I just read a story where some guy who works for the government is getting jammed up because he farts too much at work.
I mean, what kinda pazzo, mixed-up world is we livin in where a guy can’t drop some Wolf Bait when the urge strikes?
It’s not like he was Bangin’ Down a Stiff Lucy, for Chrissakes. A Stiff Lucy, I says.
I can think a some pretty famous folks who’d be outta a job if Blowin Kumquats was some kinda disqualifier. I remember some a the biggest stars in the world who had some a the most terrible gas you coulda ever smelled, and yet nobody said nothin. It was a weird kind a code where it would be okay for a guy to float a Rotten Air Biscuit, but then it woulda been considered outta line if another guy said somethin’ about it in a complainin’ kinda way.
One time this wise guy Jimmy the Beep, who was from the Midwest and was a Button Man for some a the families back there, came out to Hollywood as a guest a one a the big movie producers who was into the mob for some serious shcarole.
So we was at a gig at Frank’s in Palm Springs and Henry Silva let fly with a really loud and odiferous Neapolitan Butt Belch, and The Beep starts carryin’ on like he just got shived in the shower at Sing-Sing whilst gettin’ boned up the shoot for bein’ a f@#kin’ Wise Guy. Odiferous, I says.
So Silva, who was a legit tough guy, walked over to the Beep and slapped him in the mush and tole him there was dames who was tougher than him, and who did he think he was actin all c@#ty over another guy blowin’ heat. C@#ty, I says.
Everyone held their breath waitin’ for The Beep to rip out Silva’s larynx, but he backed down. Plus Silva laid down another Methane Brick whilst he was face to face with the Beep. We didn’t never see The Beep again.
And you don’t even know what kind a pollution that was bein’ snuck out by some a the choicest skirts in all a Hollywood.
Janet Leigh was known for Cuttin’ Walnuts whilst doin the deed and would Queef like an old Studebaker with a clogged intake valve, with regularity.
Some guys loved that noisy shit.
That’s one a the reasons that half-a-Finnoch Tony Curtis married her.
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Holy Baby Tebus! I can’t blow my Irish Tuba in the office anymore? I’ll save it up to give the Misses a nice Covered Wagon in the wee hours.
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Glad to see that you are in the flush with electricity DW. Snowed a lot in the Mighty St. Lawrence River Valley too. Fucking old dog won’t go out for a shit.
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Who the fuck goes ice fucking fishing? Fucking Mennonite neighbour in the next farm is sledding through my back yard that’s who. I’ma getting the dog clippers out and going on a beard run.
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Jehosaphats (nine more days of sober, I can’t function without substance abuse)
crop dusting the elevator still not cool unless you’re a sadist
…as for the work place goon, stop eatin cheese & bacon, mofukkah!
I see 4 eyes of coitus and 2 eyes of sheer stupid.
DW, unedited version?
keep goin’
If you are in a lift, always punch Humphrey one floor before you get out.
Dear Rev,
Valentines Day is coming up and I was wondering if you could share any pointers, tips, do’s & don’ts etc;.
I gotta easy solution to my tendency to rip loud, stinky farts. Blame it on the cat that is usually propped on a table right near me. That fuk’n cat can rip some doosies too.
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Q for DW: does the Valentine thing work if you haven’t sampled her yet?
^Q for Rev too^ Ima fugn idiot, lol
Thanks for the question Et Tu. I’m sitting around drinking NyQuil and popping a few benzos to stop the shakes. The pounds of Jean Guy are calling me from my freezer and the wife’s half drunk bottle of wine is fucking laughing at me from across the room. But a guy’s got to drive right.Fuck.
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I’ll try to answer your question but the more sober I get the worse I function after being stoned and/or drunk for 27 years. I’m going in to the toxicology test healthy and armed with a mickey of vodka and a few cannons to smoke on the way to Lenny’s.
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Valentine’s Day has always been very important to my romantic life. The first time I took a girl out to a restaurant all went as planned. It was Tami. Man I was crazy in love with that chick. Fucking cunt. I got a nice few 17 year old in love Bob Seger song kind of cheap hotel room fucks that night. Good times. Bitch dumped me for the married guy before the next Valentine’s. So there’s that.
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Second girl I took out for Valentine’s Day wasn’t really a date but a high school dance pickup. She was a childhood friend of Tami’s that gave me a yank job at a bonfire a few years earlier. A few of us went back to her house and I fucked her tits and ass, she was a little chubby but really rich and pretty. Crazy jealous chick cause she knew I was a pay grade or two higher on the cock chain.I stayed with her through the summer out of spite for Tami getting blow jobs and sailing in the Thousand Islands for a kick, good deepthroat from Shari. I was 18 and she went on to live a good life without me. Tami hated us but I fucked her a few times in my 20’s out of lust and mutual hate.
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Third girl I took out for Valentine’s Day, just drinks on account of the anorexia and antidepressant abuse, was a lush spinner crazy chick named Kerri. I was seeing her since Shari. She had spoken to Tami and Shari about my prowess and how much they hated each other. I think I fucked her that night cause I always did in my 77 Dodge Tradesman van with the bra collection. rocking stereo, and mattress in the back. She attacked me with a broken beer bottle a few years later when she found out I was fucking one of my roommates in university, a girl! So I punch her in the beak and break her nose out of fight or flight response. I should have fled after she cut my face cause I spent the next few hours fighting guys who she knew around town. Fuck I was tired. I was 19 on the Valentines Day and 21 for the bottle incident.
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Next girl I took out for Valentine’s Day was after a real promiscuous year or three. Shelli was a dental hygienist I had gone to high school with. In fact all these girls knew each other from high school. I’d been having manual relations with her while she was waiting for the pill to work. She had previously lost her cherry to a guy that was older and fixed, didn’t trust condoms. I fucked her good and proper after eating seafood and martinis. She threw up on my cock for the first of many times and fell in love with me. She was a good fuck but dumb as fuck. Carried a toothbrush everywhere that chick, puked every time she drank. I was 22. I ignored her for a while and the last time I fucked her was the day she told me a few years later she was getting married in two days to some CPA and moving from Ottawa to Toronto. I fucked her twin sister Jacki a few months later but she never threw up on my cock and was dumber so that didn’t go anywhere.
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The Valentine’s quandary here is obvious. Don’t go out with cheaters, crazies, chubby rich girls. or cock puking dental workers you went to high school with or girls whose names end in the letter “i”. As an old fuck with kids and shit to save for I spend these sober sleepless nights thinking about these chicks. They probably all look like hell but I bet we would have a good fuck or pukey blow job and get right stoned and drunk.
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So these are all the chicks I can remember fondly that I spent Valentine’s Day with in one way or another. Sometime after that I was at a bar with my buds and work pals on a Valentine Saturday night when a woman who I had previously had sexual congress with, and broke her heart cause I was never ready to settle down approached me. She was a little tipsy, smart, and sizzling hot with big hair and a form fitting lycra suit thingy. After a short convo and a few drinks she says to me, “I want you back forever baby, I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you, let’s fuck.” as she publicly shoved her hand down my tight jeans and squeezed my cock to the delight and applause of those watching. I was around 25. Her name was Kelli and I married her five years later.
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So I would suggest avoiding girls with names ending in “i”. Stay away from dental hygienists unless you want a good
fuck and pukey blowjobs. Don’t spend money on chicks unless you want your young heart ripped out of your strong and manly ribcage. If a chick cuts you with a bottle walk away. Find a clean beautiful girl self-conscious about her slight muffin-top with a rich daddy on the rag. And when you earn your red wings, take a look in the mirror and it will look like a heart. Then plunge into her ass in the prone position
and whenshe screams out that she’s always loved you run as fucking fast as you can. I’m ordering pizza for five this Valentine’s Day. Son.
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NB: No red wings with ex-strippers.
Wha, they don’t have Mylanta in Maryland? You got a dude in your workplace ripping Green Foghorns I think you’re entitled to a little bitching. That is if he’s getting out of hand
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And just look at the fatass in the photo. Dude tucks his t-shirt into his trunks like he’s proud of that boiler
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Nosiree, get your stinky arse outta my workspace, chub. I got two words for you: “South Beach Diet”
Your best sober work yet, Rev.
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Can’t wait for the return of the real stuff, though.
It’s really one of the perks of my line of underpaid employment that when I click on my browser, HCwDB appears. I’m totally comfortable with this site, and I greatly enjoy explaining to my clients what’s involved here!
Translation into Americanese
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Benzos = Short for Benzodiazepine. A pharmaceutical drug, typically abused by degenerates and recovering alcoholics… Typically.
Jean Guy = A sour tasting strain of marihuana. It’s kind of a… heady high.
Cannons = A large cone-shaped marihuana joint, meant to get a small group of people very high, or one person completely inebriated.
Lenny’s = A pizza and panini restaurant in Southern Ontario.
Bob Seger = Singer/Songwwriter who wrote “Night Moves” and that Chevy truck commercial jingle “Like a Rock.” Popular in Detroit, and with many right-wing Canadian’s who typically make up the fan-base for Nickleback… Typically.
Thousand Islands = 1,864 islands that form a chain in the St. Lawrence river, that Separates Eastern Ontario from New York, through the bottom of the Great Quebec wall, separating touristy Quebec from maritime-deliverance-instant-death-native-reserve-fucked-in-the-poop-chute-by-moose Quebec.
CPA = Canadian Payroll Association… or… Canadian Physiotherapy Association…. I think in this case it’s Chartered Professional Accountant.
Sexual Congress = Sex with the inclusion of mistrust, backstabbing, and shit on everyone involved’s face, not unlike the American model of congress.
I believe this kid to be ‘son of Fish Slap’ (fuck him!), for he is bagling most deserving of a flounder to the face
…ok, ok since Fish Slap (fuck him!) is really gay (not that there is anything wrong with that), nephew of Fish Slap? (fuck him!)
There are 3 damned good band names in DW’s wondrous treatise, and 5 god-like band names in RevChad’s caustic withdrawal manifesto.
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If you Drape-Wipes think you can spot them…feel free to hold forth in posts subsequent to this one.
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Hold Forth, I says…
Isn’t life just wonderful?
Nothing beats a good ole flatulence story- well lots of things beat a flatulence story, but I’m not getting a blow job or the feeling you get when a new lady slides her hand down your pants for the first time in the foreseeable future so I’ll go with an air biscuit story-
Freshman year-Todd Landau-Blonde hair, athletic, smart, funny- the kind of guy you might hate because he seems to have everything going for him, but you can’t because he is a nice guy and is never an asshole. Walking past his tiny dorm room when he asks me to help with his calculus. This should have been a clue. First Todd did not need help. He knew this crap inside and out. Second, if he did need help he would not ask me. Calculus was at 8:00- I was too drunk or hung over to make any sense of calculus in my freshman year. If it was not for my roommate’s incredible hot math major girlfriend tossing me some answers every so often my D would have been a F. Now her also getting drunk, slipping me her tongue and letting me feel her incredible breasts may have kept me enrolled as well, but that is another story. So I walk in and offer whatever help I can. Todd asks me to look at his work. He is at his desk, under the homemade bunk creating a nice airflow free bunker. As I lean in the most putrid, fowl odor burns my nasal passages. I re-coil in disgust just before passing out. Todd smiles and says, “ It was just to good not to share.” Oddly he was right. A stench that horrid must be shared. Anyway, it was a good joke on me that he was able to lure me right into that cloud of gas. Sadly, Todd died of cancer just before graduating. Which taught me another lesson-life is unfair when guys like Todd are taken too early and douchebags live on.