Bosses should pay employees hungovertime.

Everyone knows how much it sucks to go to work hung over. Bosses should be aware of this condition and compensate their employees. I propose a law that says all employers are required to pay salary and a half to all employees who come to work hung over.

And if that's not reasonable, we can make a law that says all employers are allowed to drink on the job. That way we'll get wasted at work and have evenings to sober up and get a good night sleep so we can happily get to work bright and early and start drinking again.

It's sort of like college, but college is only fun in theory. It's basically Party Institution. For people like me who don't know much about partying. I know a lot, but not as much as college would teach me. I have learned the phrase - "Liquor before beer, you're in the clear. Beer before liquor, never been sicker." That's a pretty common rule.

Actually it's a bullshit rule. That rule may be practical in some fantasy utopian world full of social to moderate alcoholic poets. But my life isn't that happy-go-lucky fucking perfect. I need more spelled-out, defined drinking rules. Something like - "Liquor before beer before wine before Boone's Farm before peach Schnapps before Mad Dog before sparkling wine before different beer before a different flavor Mad Dog before foul pasty fluid I found in a cup, I hope I didn't get AIDs from that slut." Or some shit like that that probably rhymes better. I don't know because college confused me with nonsense easy-access formulas about life.

Here's an example of when I should be paid hungovertime - right now. Last night when I set my alarm, I set the alarm and left the dial on "Alarm Set." So then I slept until 4 in the afternoon. And when I finally woke up, I realized my mistake. Because for the past 8 hours, every time I woke up and looked at the time, it would say zero-o-clock and I would fall back asleep because instead of the real time, I was looking at a fat chick's asshole.

Her name was Neil. Last night I met her at a "dance party." Which was a joke. Everyone was sitting around like a normal party. I asked the dumb hostess why there wasn't any music. She said, "It's a dance party, not a music party. LOL" And she actually said the letters L-O-L." And I was so angry and humiliated that I went to Denny's. Where I got cheese fries.

At Dennys I had a lot of time to think. Who would have thought rotten milk and fried potatoes would get along so well as cheese fries. We merely burned the skin off one thing and let the other rot. Then together, they are amazing. I wonder if that works for other stuff. Like would it taste good to mold cabbage and then put it on burnt oreos? Maybe. Or what about relationships. I can't seem to get along with girls. What if I churned myself for eight hours until I curdled, then would I hit it off with girls who have been burned severely in grease fires? Someone find answers to this stuff.

So Neil and I hooked up. Big deal. I took off her bra. There was two more underneath. I was like, "Why the hell do you have three bras on?" She said in a tactically failed prissy voice, "I'm walking home tonight and it's in case a guy tries to rape me." Totally serious. Like some guy is going to grab a girl in an alley, tear off one bra only to find another and be like, "What? Are you kidding me?" Then tear off the second to find a third. "Jesus fuck. This is a god damn rapist's nightmare. What the hell am I doing here? I give up. This is like the Neverending Story but with Rape instead of Story." And then he'll leave her alone.

No. That's not how it works. Fending off a rapist is easy. I know all the tricks. Here's what you do. If you're about to be raped by some guy, just say, "This morning I did a deep system-wide douche with shampoo." Every guy knows how it feels to get shampoo in his urethra. Because every guy has tried fapping with shamp. It feels like you're being stung on the dick by jelly fish with tasers tied to their teeth. It's like an apocalypse is occurring to a microcosm inside your peehole. Like the big bang theory is being proven on a singularity on the tip of your dick. So that should get him off you. But if you really wanna be safe, actually shove shampoo inside there. The rapist will give it one shot, zap, his pubic hair stands up like a blowfish stuck on the end of a helium tank. Game over. Clock out.

As a matter of fact, you can buy specially made stuff that's designed for this purpose. It's called Shampoontang. It comes with an easy-insert twistoff dildo top. For pricing and information, just ask me. I also do custom installations.

I should stop talking about rape because it isn't very PC. Talking about rape isn't PC.. it's Mac. Haha. That is an awesome joke. I don't care. Fuck you.

I can't wait for the apocolypse. I'm going to be totally honest. I am deeply, truly obsessed with the apocolypse. In all its forms and splendor. It is a magnificiently beautiful concept and I love it. I just want a college that lets me major in the apocolypse. I'd definitely go. The only reason they don't is because someone will blow up the world in order to not have to pay off their student loans because all the loan papers would be burned. But that has another purpose too. After the apocolypse, all the surviving girls will be burned severely and I'll curdle myself and scrog my way into next millenium. Hrm. If only I commanded tectonic plates with my fingertips. Piss all.

Last updated August 16th, 2008