March 12th, 2010 | 
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the raccoon, the dried condom & the threesome that could’ve been
so i swerved in traffic this morning to avoid hitting a raccoon that had already been struck by the homosexual prius in front of me. normally im not into striking animals or harming things, but as soon as i got back on the road i immediately regretted not finishing the fucker off.
im not talking euthanasia out of a respect for the creature in pain, no, im talking, i have a history with these masked creatures that dates back to my late teens.
when i was 19 years old i was attending western illinois university in macomb, il (where is that you ask? imagine the state of illinois as a pregnant lady facing west. my school was in the middle of nowhere, near the tip of the belly). i lived with 4 friends in a house that was used primarily as an ashtray, a brewhouse and a place to wipe ejaculate.
one morning i returned from an afterparty with two chicks in tow. i was planning on filming a sexual romp that would make rick james blush but instead we stayed up a few more hours polishing off a bottle of apple pucker and playing strip connect four. i was the first nude and the first to say “you guys hear that?”
the girls giggled and caressed each other a bit and then turned to me simultaneously and said “hear what?”
i stood with my suspicious face and nothing else on. wagging the dog, if you will.
i approached the back door and peered out but couldnt see into the darkness with the lights on in the house. all i saw was what looked like a grey and white dog doing summersaults away from my position. now we lived on a kind of hill that we had to drag our trash cans down weekly for trash collection, but this was the day before the trash day, so our 4 cans were chock full of food, beer bottles and used condoms up against the side of the house. the view from the couch was in between two full trash cans.
disgusting? yes. college? yes.
well a few more rounds of strip connect four and i was getting closer and closer to movie star tang but i kept hearing this hullalaboo that was like a scratching mixed with sinister snivelling. like mister burns was outside my door fucking with me.
i got up a few more times and looked out the window, only to see this grey and white blur pass by my field of vision.
so i kept returning to my mini-orgy but kept getting back up to peer out the window, cause back in these days i supplemented my brain power with ample amounts of the reefer of schwagness and had the paranoia factor of a nam vet, a kid with his dick in the cookie jar and oj simpson combined into one naked white college sophomore.
if this was just a story about the penetration, i will tell you that it was plentiful and swol, but no, this is a story about something else entirely.
as im laying pipe like a trucker at a rent by the hour motel i see a head pop into view at the window by the trash cans. i immediately unsheathe the female from my rubber enwrapped schwanz and head to the door. this time i opened the door and burst out as loud as possible to make myself seem bigger than i actually am (im a grower not a shower, its cool) and i see the tail end of, uh, the tail of what can only be a raccoon.
my enemy has a face, a genus, a species. i shall not rest until this beast is tamed and my property is protected. but first i better get back to the snatch.
so i return to the snatch to see one girl watching Friends reruns on tbs and the other writing out a grocery list. it seems our sexy time has devolved into “wow. dude left us for a squirrel”
i spent the better part of the next 20 minutes describing what it was that i saw and as the girls got dressed they answered me with “mmmhmm, great. uh huh, sure” as i put my plan into action.
i was going to snag this fucking coon and make an example out of it. fuck this.
i sprang into action, still nude, with a whimpering condom flapping against, and occasionally sticking to, my thighs. i opened the fridge and took every take out container we had and dumped it into a tin foil baking pan that served as a wet shoe receptacle. pretty soon i had chinese food, a few smooshy burrito halves, grilled chicken breasts and some rotting bean sprouts that i had gotten into putting on my sammies in place of lettuce.
i took this platter of shit and took it out to the porch, slid it inbetween the two trash cans previously mentioned and ran around to the side of the house where the landlord kept some of our random shit in a lean-to like shed. gas can, bug spray, fertilizer… ANTIFREEZE! i grabbed the antifreeze knowing that its got a sweet scent to it that dumb animals love.
i poured a good half of a bottle onto the food platter and used an empty beer bottle to give the mash a little stimulation. the sucking sound of a beer bottle pushing into and out of a pile of soggy food soaked with antifreeze and its own juices kind of reminded me of what i gave up to protect my house from this critter. i just had two broads spread eagle in porno mode, but i chose the path that im on and i needed to finish this once and for all.
so i replaced the beer bottle in the trash and went back in the house, cut the lights and crouched by the window, still naked, still sporting a droopy condom on sir wiggles.
the next thing i remember is being kicked by my roommate brian, the sun was shining directly on my condom clad mazda 6, which had now dried and hurt to touch, and there were people laughing. i get the fuzz out of my eyes and see about 12 freshman pledges to brian’s fraternity all staring down at my fetus curled body.
i got halfway to my feet and said aloud “is the carcass out there?”
silence
i just asked 13 or so people if there was a carcass out there as i lay naked on the floor with a condom drying on my mike tirico. i wasnt going to get an answer. i should probably get this condom off my dick cheney before its permanently attached.
i ended up showering and going to class that day, but all i thought about was the varmint that got away. i saw those two broads at the student union later on, and i went over to talk to them like nothing had happened but i guess they werent into talking to me. so the day dragged on and all i could do was think about this fucking coon that had been fuckin wit me propatee.
that night i went back to work, i was a bartender so i drank for a job, and then came home drunk again. i passed out on the very couch i had not 24 hours earlier auditioned for college fuck parties and failed.
about 530 i heard a scratching noise and my eyes shot open. i looked to the window to see the masked animal himself staring at me.
i didnt dare move. he must be back to die on my porch the fucking shit.
as i attempted to sit up, i shit you not, this mother fucking ass fucking animal put the back of his paw up against the window and fucking flicked me off.
this fucking coon just put up his middle claw and gave me the bird.
i erupted from the couch in a fury normally reserved for after school specials and i went after him, this time fully clothed, only to see his little fucking tail disappear down the hill, across the street and under the foundation of a house belonging to the rugby team
i had been beaten, outsmarted, hoodwinked.
but that fucker has no idea how crazy rugby players are, and i knew just who to call. i called crackmonkey, the rugby captain, and i told him my story.
that night when i got home from work i could see the shadows of a bonfire across the street and men with pitchforks, shotguns and fireworks.
fuck you raccoon. and fuck all of your rascally friends. we are mortal enemies. i will kill all of you.
just venting a widdle
while discussing cock rock…
because i frequent a daycare facility twice daily and squeeze through these gossiping, yet oddly attractive, bitches – when they pop the doors on their trendy vans, which i also recently purchased, they have this shit blaring and encourage their kids to “rock out”, which i am also guilty of, but im pushing my kid onto the shit i like rather than the shit im told to like.
the guitar hero sector of the population is impinging on the awesome aspects of rock music by allowing these people to say things like “im down with buckethead” when they can only say “i cant beat that one buckethead song on hard, it’s fucking hard man”
you aint down with buckethead you fucking coooze! you played a video game, hundreds of times, that doesn’t earn you the right to align yourself with those of us who stood outside the riv in chicago for 7 hours just to hear a version of nottingham lace that would melt the skin off of a mud soaked rhinoceros, you spent your free time tapping colored buttons. you are akin to the DDR queers who big up tiesto.
WHO THE FUCK IS TIESTO??
YOU DESERVE TO WEAR A COCK ON YOUR NOSE FOR ETERNITY YOU FUCKING COCK NOSED SOCCER MOM HAVING FAGASS!
SHIT! COREY HAIM DIED! tribute:
tim: oh snap corey haim died. corey corey hallalujah
joel: and holy is his haim
tim: more like a haim duck!!!!!!!!!
joel: we’re brothers man, we have the haim skin tone
tim: its a low down dirty haim
joel: was he on the calgary flhaims
tim: i guess he should have never went to hollywood rather and joined the air force and Haimed High
joel: he must not’ve read the disclhaimer on his bottle of sleeping pillsies
tim: some things just cant be explhaimed
joel: for shaim
tim: wait till we get our haims on you
joel: i was frhaimed!
tim: big daddy haim
joel: he haim he saw he conquered
tim: chaim chaim chaim, chaim of fools
joel: he just behaim a legend
tim: he is haimous
joel: i wonder where he was preghaiming before he went out last night
tim: probably with magician david blhaime
joel: his movies were highly acclhaimed
tim: i just hope he can wash out this sthaim
joel: as long as i can renhaim this filenhaim to something conthaiming the word haim
tim: that shit was flhaim!
joel: i was recently mhaimed by a crazed jack russell terrier
tim:…
joel: when corey haim would go to shake someone’s hand and they would miss it, it was called the Haim Left Hangin, which actually inspired the film Pay It Forward
tim: corey haim is the impetous for the band manheim steamroller. They want to be called manhaim cream stroller but corey objected.
joel: during the battle of 1812, a young irishman by the name of whit mcfiddletwiddlin envisioned a world where two coreys would change the world of cinema with their off color brand of ‘cute’ and ‘absolutely annoying as herpes.’ he wrote down six words on a rock near syracuse, ny: nothing will ever be the haim
tim: corey haim didnt die he now goes by an alter ego he created during the crusades, and is known to the world as Madmen star John Hamm
joel: we have to stop so i can publish this
if we dont
the haim game will continue into the next millenihaim
tim: ha(im) ha(im)
sorry, what? 14
im not saying anyone deserves to be eaten by a shark, but come on, the way she was dressed, she was asking for it.