My Five Reasons For Sitting On My Ass Not Doin' Shit
Reason #1 - My fingertips got cut off, making it impossible to type.
Why This Reason Sucks - Were my fingertips to get cut off, they would eventually heal, and although I would no longer have the elongated phalangees of Nailsodite (the goddess of manicures, pedicures, and Asians), I would still have tips to my fingers. They would be nubs, of course, probably deeming me some cheesy nickname like the Greek one I myself just created, but mine would be more along the lines of something such as "Nubstasha," or "The Nubinator," or "Nubby Balboa," or "Ferris Nubler," or even plain ol', "Hey you with the nubs," but they would still suffice as fingertips. Fingernubs, so to speak, therefore making it possible for me to still type. That is why Reason #1 is really more like Fingerlikcin' Lie #1.
Reason #2 - I have become addicted to porn, making it impossible to stray from any porn-related website.
Why This Reason Sucks - I've never watched porn. I must have been born with something wrong with me, because the thought of watching strangers get naked and then touching myself doesn't really appeal to me in the least bit. I'm sick of our culture's infatuation with nudity. An ass is an ass, people. We're all going to get old and all our asses will get saggy and then where will we be? When I turn 80 I'm moving to China. I hear they respect the old there. Here in America, it just means your ass has gotten ten times more wrinkly. This is why Reason #2 is really more like Wrinklyassed Lie #2.
Reason #3 - I've had a bad case of the runs, making it impossible to sit still while at the computer.
Why This Reason Sucks - I stole this reason from someone else. Though I do like to consider myself as "original," as everyone in the world does, which doesn't say much, I heard this excuse used a couple weeks ago and knew I had to try it on for size. After an accomplice of mine had realized they would not be able to go to work that day on account of still being heavily intoxicated from that morning's partying, I insisted that they call out of work instead of just not showing up. It went like this:
"I insist on you calling out of work. You cannot drive in your condition."
"No, no, I'll do it. You cannot speak in your condition."
"Fine. Here, it's ringing."
"Hey man, I canshwork tonight."
"What you say?"
"Can't work, man. CAN'T. I got a bad case of the runs."
"The runs, man. The RUNS."
"You be running where?"
"I'm not running anywhere; I HAVE them. The runs. The pizza. Last night. It hit me hard. I got the runs. Bad."
"You no run anywhere, you get better and come into work in one hour. I see you in one hour."
Next time I want to call out of work, I'll make sure to take a few shots beforehand so I feel completely at ease telling my boss I can't come in because of the continuously-running feces pouring out of my asshole. As far as writing goes, however, this does not serve as an acceptable excuse, because technically I can shit and write at the same time. This disturbing fact makes Reason #3 more like Shitfaced Lie #3.
Reason #4 - I've gained 600 pounds in my stomach alone, making it impossible for my arms to reach the keys.
Why This Reason Sucks - Obviously I've run out of brilliant excuses, because I've had to resort to obesity, which is by far the easy-way-out as far as comedy goes. Ran out of witty lines? Throw a random fat guy in the scene! That'll make the talking monkeys laugh! It's so hilarious to witness the effects of eating more than the recommended portions! I pity them, really. The bigger the breasts are, the more fat that's in them. And that makes a woman sexy. The bigger the stomach is, the more fat that's in that. And that makes a woman a laughing-stock. Fat is fat, if you ask me. Hell, if I owned an easy-go, I'd be riding that thing everywhere in a fat-suit wearing a strap-on and optically illussioning any child that passed me with it and then shooting their parents the bird. And that's the truth, unlike Reason #4, which is really Big Fat Lie #4.
Reason #5 - I've been working to the point of exhaustion and apathy, making it exhausting as well as stressful to try and exert my energy toward any creative outlet, especially one that I like to share with the world.
Why This Reason Sucks - Because it's the truth.
The thing is, I have so many stories to tell. SO MANY FUCKING STORIES. And that's why I've decided to being writing again. So fuck work. Fuck the stress of being financially unstable. Fuck the fact that my air conditioning is broken in 107 degree weather. Fuck the maggots that infest my kitchen floor. Fuck my car radio that is broken for good. Fuck that little girl who told me my hair was really messy. Fuck the guy who reached into the tip jar to pay for his food in exact change. Fuck Harry Potter for dividing the last book into 2 movies to make more money. Fuck Twilight for doing the exact same shit. Fuck the industry, bitch I'm in these streets. Because, if you're anything like me, you treasure a good story, a good laugh, and a good amount of profanity. And it's about damn time I give you that.