Eating Altoids Sour Chewing Gum is like having sex with a mean woman who bites you so hard that she makes your eyes water and your teeth clench. It’s like, either way (gum or girl), you know going in that it’s gonna hurt a little. But the upside makes up for it.

I recently met a bartender with fake breasts and a BMW. She told me that she spends money constantly, even when she doesn’t have it. And I gotta tell you, I’m still getting over the shock of that statement. I mean, there are fake-breasted, BMW-owning, beautiful women that constantly spend money? This shit should be on CNN.

After nine years of faithful service, my athletic supporter finally gave way, leading to the following conversation between Keith the Sporting Goods Salesman and me.

Me: You don’t have any regular jock straps?
Keith: No. People prefer the sliding pants set up. It’s a lot more comfortable.
Me: I don’t know. I’ve been using the same kind of jock since I was a small boy.
Keith: Well, you’ll find these to be a lot more comfortable.
Me: This conversation is kind of awkward, huh?
Keith: Little bit.

Okay, George Mason is in The Final Four. If they win the whole NCAA tournament, I promise you, dear readers, a picture of my butt. Read that sentence again.

Recently, here in the Tampa Bay area, a young white woman was stabbed in the face by a white supremacist because said woman had the audacity to date a black man. The woman lived next door to three men who proudly displayed swastikas on their lawn. I don’t know about you, but if I saw a white woman kissing a black man next to a swastika covered house, I would probably start taking wagers on the date of the resulting hate crime. And by the way, how come these white supremacists are always the dumbest, most inbred white people we have? Why are the people who feel that whites are superior always the most inferior representatives of our color? Not for nothing, but I’ll bet it all has something to do with asbestos in mobile homes.

To the seven year old who was in front of me at the grocery market on Sunday, I feel it is necessary for me to tell you that purple is not a flavor. They call it grape you little jerk. And if you ever correct me again in public, I will make it a point to grab your mom by the back of her neck and force upon you a new little sibling. Maybe this one’ll have brains.

And finally, because I ain’t got no time for logic and fluidity on the grounds that I am the busiest guy I know, I leave you with the following, which I overheard at The Local Pub.

“It’s like, his cuteness makes up for his asshole-ness, but he’s bad in bed. So he’s totally not worth it.”

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