Suck It

I'm a little distracted right now-- and I ought to be at the gym seeing as I have a police physical agility test on Saturday morning, so, if this post is a little disjointed and weird, um, I'm sorry.

See, at this very moment, I am wracked with guilt over blogging instead of gymming. Not only that, but there's a goddamn mosquito landing on my right hand approximately every fifteen seconds, and it's trying to suck my motherfucking blood, give me West Nile Virus, and it'll never even write or call again.

It's just this shallow, thrill-seeking, sanguine-hungry daredevil who is incredibly good at fleeing and eluding, has that unfair advantage of flight (as Captain Hook so famously said, "It isn't fair! 'Tis some fiend fighting me-- Pan, who and WHAT art thou?")

Yeah, yeah, yeah-- youth, joy, and freedom. Go fuck yourself, Peterbilt.

If you can fathom a good reason why mosquitoes exist, then you're clearly smarter than most. And you probably don't get bitten by them either, and I hate you. I don't know what it is about me. Maybe they love half-bred Israelis with scoliosis, Eeyoretitudes and questionably-aligned dentition, but these sumbitches are all over me. I go out wearing long-sleeved shirts and trousers and I get the bites in the most covered of places.

It's a tad irksome to think of some bastard-assed mosquito flying up your pant leg and noodling around up in there. I've never gotten a mosquito bite on my peen, though. Not that I'm complaining-- but, why is that? Is my wong not biteable? I mean, there's plenty of blood in that mother-- sometimes much moreso than others. But, seriously, like-- what the fuck, mosquitoes? I'm beginning to get a complex.

I don't know if mosquitoes think, but, if they do, they've got to be pretty single-minded of purpose. "Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood." Sort of like men. Except, with us, it's "furry triangle, furry triangle, furry triangle, furry triangle, furry triangle."

Jesus-- there he goes again. I can't kill him. I'm trying, though-- trust me, but he's very, very good. I'm using the CLAP method, hoping to annihilate him between my two palms, but it's not happening. Alternatively, when I see it land on the desk, I'm ramming down my hand but all it's doing is hurting my hand. And messing my blogging game up.

The sound they make when they're right by your ear is absolutely sickening-- it's even more revolting than the fact of them landing on you, shoving that pike-looking proboscis inside you and gorging on your blood. I think. Maybe I'm an auditory guy. Who knows?

Furry. Triangle.

I'm sorry-- what were we talking about again?