I am Feceus, the Lonely God of Shit!

I just stumbled across a website called nobodypoopsbutyou.com. I encourage all of you to pay a visit there. Really, it's funny as hell. Shit humour for adults.

So how have my faithful Asswipers been (all two of you)? It's been a while, hasn't it? One month and three days to be exact. I promise I'm not trying to avoid you (like most of the girls that have given me their phone numbers over the years). I just haven't really had anything on my mind, nothing that you'd want to hear about anyway. I decided that I'm not really going to keep going with the "I have a bunch of stories that I want to tell" angle for the Asswipe Chronicles. Nah, that's dull. Mainly because the first one took place over a span of two and a half years. That's a long time. Assuming that my math is correct (which it probably isn't), that's a little less than ten percent of my total lifespan so far. Oh yeah, another reason is I'm pretty sure you don't want to read about me getting laid. I mean, I'm a pretty furry critter. Now imagine me in all of my furriness (like a big, drunk teddy bear that farts a bunch) getting it on. Go ahead, imagine it. I'll give you a few minutes to go vomit/cry/pray/stab your eyes with lit cigarettes.

So a couple of weeks ago, I was in the bookstore for something and stumble across what I haven't seen in a couple of years, Maximum Rock N' Roll. Of course I bought it. I flipped through the pages, read the reviews, read the articles, read the interviews. I realized (much later than everyone else that quit reading MRR) that the magazine was essentially a bunch of jaded dildos trying to "out-punk" and "out-hardcore" the others. But I found the one thing about MRR that never let me down, George Tabb's column. A little back story on the man, he played guitar and sang in the band Furious George, was an honorary member of the Ramones, and is one very funny writer. I always looked forward to reading his columns. I opened up this issue and his column was the first thing I went for. I was excited. Really, I almost ripped a few pages out trying to find his column. When I read it, the first paragraph looked familiar. Not in layout, but in content. He was talking about pills, his dog, and flying. About a quarter of the way through the article, I realized that it was a reprint of the article that was published in the very first Maximum Rock N' Roll that I ever bought, way back in September of 2002. That was the same issue that introduced me to Dillinger Four for the first time. I was disappointed. I know the guy has some serious health problems, but it can't be that hard to write a funny article. Then I remembered what I felt like the first time I read that article when I was 15 years old, a sophomore in high school. I couldn't stop laughing. It was funnier every time I read it. I remember making Bart read it in Coach Woodall's geometry class. We both cracked up at the part in the article where he talked about a friend dragging him to a gay strip club. The description of "dicks flopping around like wounded salmon" was probably the funniest thing I had read at that point (and possibly ever).

Guess what starts three days from today. Guess. C'mon, make a guess. You know you want to. I will slaughter a kitten if you don't guess! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Really, I will totally kill a kitty if you don't know that SPRING FUCKING TRAINING starts this week. AND, Alabama's baseball season starts Saturday! Baseball season is back, and it's not going away until October! YAY!!! 5 April is the first official Braves game of the season. They're playing a day game against the Cubs in Atlanta. Would anyone want to go?

Well, that was a graphic display of threatened animal cruelty and enthusiasm. Sorry about that.

I was going to put some other shit on here, but I can't remember what. Profound? Insightful? Mind blowing? Probably not.

Oh yeah, I finally went home a couple of weeks ago. It was nice, especially since I hadn't been home in about a month. I didn't really see anyone (way to answer phone calls and texts, dicks), but I managed to spend some time at Antonelli's and sleeping past noon at home. When will I be back? I have no idea. Spring break is looking about it right now. After I go to Mobile and New Orleans, that is.

Yep, I'm going to Mobile for spring break and Veitch and I may or may not drive over to the Big Sleazy. I'm pretty stoked. Okay, I'm really stoked.

I should probably try to get to bed before 2 o'clock tonight. I've managed to sleep through my first two Tuesday-Thursday classes for a couple of weeks now. Last I checked, that's not good. The ship that I call My Hilarious Attempt at Receiving a College Education: An On-Going Study on How to Drag out a History Degree Over the Course of Five-Plus Years gets back on course tomorrow. That could be a book title, or a Dillinger Four song title. They're really in to really long song titles like that.

Holy shit, this is longer than I thought. I was reading the news on Yahoo!, which is really nothing more than 15,000 stories about the Winter Olympics and maybe one piece of actual news. They had some article on there about this guy that set the world record for hugging the most people in one day. 24 hours, 7,777 hugs. I like to get a hug from someone as much as the next asshole, but I prefer (and actually require) that it be from someone that I know. But this, 7,777 RANDOM STRANGERS over the course of a full calendar day is just, well, REALLY FUCKING CREEPY.

The Winter Olympics are here. Someone from Georgia (the country that is constantly getting the shit kicked out of it by Russia, not the state to our immediate east) died doing the luge. Yeah, the guy came off of the luge and flew off of the track. NBC even showed the footage, the guy flying off of the track and first responders trying to bring him back to life. It was sad. But, thanks to Sports Illustrated, all is forgotten because they featured downhill skier Lindsey Vonn in the swimsuit issue. Yeah, schwing.

Oh yeah, how was you Valentine's Day? I worked, washed my beard, and watched episodes of Dinosaurs (you know you remember it), the first season of the Simpsons, and Squidbillies all night. Essentially, it was the same as every other Valentine's Day of my life. It was funny standing there in the checkout line a Publix. All of these turds and dildos were buying last minute flowers and chocolates and condoms and lube and blah blah blah. I was standing in line with a bottle of shampoo for my beard. Hell, I don't have a girlfriend to pamper and be sweet to and all of that horse shit, so I'll be sweet to my beard.

Speaking of which, B-Day (it's like D-Day, but instead of a massive invasion of the use of land and sea forces, it involves a beard trimmer, a Gillette razor, and a can of Barbasol [yes, I use Barbasol]) is a little over a month and a half away.

Okay, I guess I'll stop with this now. I should probably go read or do something to prepare me to get the My Hilarious Attempt at Receiving a College Education: An On-Going Study on How to Drag out a History Degree Over the Course of Five-Plus Years back on course.

Until next time, take it easy, you turds.