Homonid

I always think of myself as socailly awkward, but from people’s reactions I can only gather that I am only slightly amusing with a dash of uncomfortability.

So I have a roomate.  Whenever I tell straight couples or my mom that I have a roomate they automatically go into judgemental mode.  Like as if me having a “roomate” means that I am socially committed to another queer the rest of my life.  Like the word “roomate” is only obscuring the real truth, that I am leading somewhat of a normal life with another man in the guise that we share deodorant and we sometimes wear each others’ underwear. They look at me with their discerened eyes as if I have a live-at-home prostitute.

No, I have a roomate and we have no interest in seeing each others’ penises.  We masturbate in separate bedrooms, one more than the other.  And we lead separate lives.

Anyway, he has a dog.  His dog is annoying.  It’s a “Airdale Terrier”.  And, I can only assume, the town of “Aidale” is where they do not feed their dogs any sort of carb food item.

This dog has absolutely no interest in any meat of any kind.  I could attach a Christmas ham to my nut sack and he would go for the water bowl.  However, God forbid I crack open a box of wheat thins or toast a bagel.  You would think that I had a Greyhound pussy on a platter, he wants to know what it’s about and who it’s going to.

Loves a carb.

Anyway, I had to walk this animal one time and he took a Number 2 on my shift.  I was mortified.  A.) Because the damn thing looked so uncomfortable during the excretion.  I would too if someone had to watch me take a deuce.  Mine are horrific.  And B.) it was my responsibility to pick up it’s hot turd out of the neighbor’s yard.

It’s so weird that I have to take an old Wal Mart bag with me everytime I have to take this dog out so I can pick up something that exited another animal’s body mere seconds ago and throw it away.

Bodily functions upset me.

Hence, why I hate my own.  I hate shitting.  There is not a thing Jamie Lee Curtis can tell me that will make me think otherwise.  And not only that, but I hate my own semen.  

I do my own share of masturbating.  A lot of it actually.  But I wish semen was something a little more exciting and I would be more interested in it.

Like if I beat off and came glitter, I would stoked.  Or if I was giving a BJ in the back stall of a Sizzler I would love it if he came on my face in self-serve chocolate ice cream.

Eat it up, it would be delicious.

Just sayin’.