I Dispense Some Greatness
Sometimes, I find, we lose our paths in life. I mean, I was looking at the second half of yesterday's entry, and I was thinking, "What the fuck was I doing?" This blog was started for a purpose and that purpose was . . .

Ok, I don't . . . exactly . . . remember what it was, but damn it all, it wasn't for that. It was probably to celebrate my grotesquely bloated ego and my incredible sense of humour, or something. Damn, I need some beer. Anyway, here's some funny shit.

I shall probably post another uncharacteristically serious entry tomorrow, because any publicity is good publicity, just-make-sure-you-get-my-name-right-k-thx-bye. In case you're wondering what the fuck I'm talking about (a reasonable question), the entry I wrote yesterday was linked by the Singapore Serf, and I think that there is a lot of truth to what he said, so I shall give my (as usual) unique (probably) take on it tomorrow. Provided I have the time and I'm not too lazy, of course, but that's a given.

In the meantime, here's some funny shit.

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Yesterday, I went for dinner with a good friend of mine, who is, once again, a rather hot chick. Lest you cynical bastards get any wrong ideas, she's married. Lest you even more cynical bastards get any wrong ideas, she's faithful to her husband. I mean, come on, the girl has been married for less than 6 months. Affairs probably won't become an issue until at least 7 years down the road, ok? Anyway, we had some conversational gems because she was trying to buy presents for another guy friend of hers and also because I am an asshole.

Her: What can you get for a guy who has everything?
Me: Lingerie?

Her (after I suggested cuff links): But he doesn't have any shirts that need cuff links.
Me (patiently): Buy him a shirt that needs them too.
Her: *stares daggers*

Me: I should get a basketball. It would help me get rid of the pudge.
Her: Great idea! We could play together and I could bring my dog along.
(Her dog is really, really adorable and hence, given my avowed enmity with all things cute, hated by me.)
Me: Great idea! We could shoot hoops with your dog and then I wouldn't even have to buy a basketball!

Her: I really don't know what to get for him. Maybe I should get him some gift vouchers.
Me: I know, you should get him one of those voucher booklets with vouchers that say stuff like "Voucher for free massage from me" or "Voucher for dinner with me", etc.
Her: What the fuck? Are you 12, Adrian?

Her: Shit, I had no idea shopping for him would be this hard.
Me: Maybe you should get him a basketball. Since he doesn't play basketball, you could borrow it and then, hey, free basketball for us.

Her: Bebe (her dog) looks better and better.
Me: Yes. He looks more and more delicious everyday.
Me (doing my Austin Powers' Fat Bastard impression with a fork in one hand and a spoon in the other): I'm higher on the food chain than you, Bebe. Now, get in my belly!

Ok, I don't remember if I said that last one yesterday, but it's a standard joke between us whenever we eat together and Bebe is around (which he wasn't), so I thought I'd include it anyway. Besides, I can't be expected to remember all the pieces of greatness I dispensed yesterday. If I meet her again, I'll bring a notebook or something for the benefit of you guys. Not that any of you would appreciate it, you fucking ingrates.

At the end of our meeting, my shirt was getting noticeably tight because my shoulders were swollen from all the smacks I'd received. See, that's one of my methods for training my shoulder muscles, I sass the bitches I'm out with so that they're smacking me all the time. The advantages to this method are two-fold. The first is that I don't have to actually put in effort to exercise, and the second is that the bitch I'm out with gets to tone her arm muscles too. Note that I do not recommend this for everyone, because I'm sure that there are repercussions later in life, such as having your shoulder blades fracture all the damned time for no apparent reason. I do this because I am the sort of person who doesn't really care much about the future, being of the firm opinion that I will die young, if not from alcohol poisoning, then from lung cancer. Be that as it may, I have the morbid fear that I will someday end up as an old, destitute wino with broken shoulders, which is why I'm always motivated to smoke like a fucking chimney and drink like a, uh, like a person who drinks a lot to ensure my premature demise.

If any of you bitches who have read the above are thinking, "Wow, Adrian sure is a funny fucker. Going out with him must be really fun. Maybe I should throw him my panties or something." I would suggest you think again. My talent is a valuable resource, and I do not turn it on for whoever, yeah? First of all, you must be a hot chick. I don't care how clever or talented you are, because I am a superficial bastard, so you have to look good first. Secondly, you must be interesting yourself. I ain't entertaining some boring bitch. What am I, a fucking comedian? Again, I am just protecting my talent here. Only the blessed shall receive, ok? Unless you paid me, of course. How would you know whether I find you interesting? Well, if you happen to be out with me and I'm not saying a lot, it's probably because I find you boring, both to look at and to talk to. Nobody ever finds me boring unless I'm bored by them, all right? So if I ever go out with you and I seem distant, buy me some alcohol. If I still seem distant, don't call me again, ok? Lastly, applications are currently generally closed, barring unavoidable or unforeseen circumstances, out of respect for the Feisty Bitch.

I will make exceptions for chicks who are using me to get to the Big Fuck because the cat says that he has decided to quit flirting. If you ask me, a dumber idea was never proposed in the history of mankind, and since that bugger is far from stupid, I personally think that it's some sort of reverse psychology marketing ploy to add to his appeal. Ha! You may be able to fool the other peons, but you can't fool me, buddy. Oops, maybe I shouldn't have said that here. Anyway, if any of you reading this are groupies of the Big Fuck, I'll be glad to help him give you the once over and if I think you're good enough, I'll pimp you to him when he gets back because I'm just that awesome a guy. Heheheheh. Of course, you must be careful with him, because sometimes, he is a lizard demon from hell.



You have been warned, bitches.

Ok, I'm obviously just pulling crap out of thin air here, but still, I think it's incredibly fucking funny, so there. I got the idea of pimping for the Big Fuck from makanguru, by the way.

That is all.  ¶
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