Who’s your crappy guest host? Moghdor. Shit.

(So yesterday’s blog was a hit thanks for giving lilnavywife some support. Today’s guest blogger is Moghdor. Another funny guy, I was going to say funny cat or is it kat, but I am not cool enough to call someone cat or kat. Again leave some comments for him, and if you dig it subscribe to his blog.)When I was asked to do the whole guest blogger deal I was filled with a bit of trepidation. Such as:

What if I’m better than the Hoff?

Fortunately I’ve taken my pills and my delusions of granduer are under control. Fakk. I so adore the delusions. They’re the comfy pillow where my dreams recline.

As I was working today I had a few thoughts. A list:

A. Thought One: ‘Heroin’ Billy, the guy that works for the local lumber yard was looking well today. Good for a heroin addict. There is something to be said for the heroin ‘chic’ of the supermodel. Unfortunately Billy is neither a woman or a pretty man.He’s a bit of a cross between a heroin injected lab rat and one of those…wait. The comparison was perfect.

B. Thought Two: I dislike some songs with the passion of a thousand suns. You know when people tell you that hate is too strong a word? I think that for these songs in particular hate is just like a tepid cup of weak coffee sans sugar/creme/Jack Daniels. Lacking. Alot. I’ve decided that there is a deeper level to my auditory hell. So go ahead, sing that one fucker. That’s right, the person singing that ear bleeder was bad enough and then someone that I’m working with goes and does a remixed version. What’s that? No. There’s no knife behind my back….. Stab stab stab….

C. Thought Three: I Love You. There a few words in the English language, nay, any language that become more trite with overuse. What words am I talking about? The magical words of caring/concern/copulation. Times these words have been uttered unnecessarily:
1. At the end of every phone conversation. I.E. “Hey babe I have to go. The dog just took an enormous dump on the floor. I love you.”
2. Every time that you’ve made a mistake. I.E. “Honey, I just ripped your dress because I was wearing it. At a hotel. After I turned a trick. With your brother. I love you.”
Oh, it was cute the first fifteen thousand times you said it now it’s a bit like socks at Christmas. Perfunctory and unappreciated. Christ.

D. Thought Four: The Olympics have just ended. What the shit? I was really amped up for another two weeks of the most erotic games to ever be played in the winter under the guise of ‘competition.’ Medal winners:
1. Silver Medal goes to: Curling. First of all, it’s a four way. Word? They rush around scrubbing with toys trying to get things slick so they slide better. Then they aim a for the bullseye. Bullseye= G-spot, enough said.
2. Gold Medal goes to: Two man Luge. Nothing ushers in the new era of open mindedness at the Olympics more than an event where: Two men are on a small bed together. Both in skin tight clothes, hiding nothing and revealing everything. They start sliding down a tube slowly using their hands and then as they pick up speed the fella on top lays back and nestles himself against the bottom riders junk. This event ends in a flurry of white and both riders are spent.

Where is the bronze? Fuck the bronze. The Hoff took it on vacation with him. Losers.