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Drivel

You Talk Like A Man With A Paper Asshole

The paper asshole. It’s one of nature’s most secretive and seductive traits. Nobody wants one, but somebody’s gotta have one. Thankfully for you, that person is me.

“You talk like a man with a paper asshole”, I’ve heard it a hundred times. For years I wasn’t sure what it meant. I wondered if I was being insulted or complimented, but never once did I take it literally. Boy, was that a mistake.

Not understanding was hard for me. I was confused, and to be honest, a little scared. Even though I never thought, “I literally have an asshole made out of paper”, it was there in the back on my mind.

I think I was bouncing around somewhere in my mid-20’s before I realized “that’s what that is”. It was one of those “a-ha” moments in life where things seemed to make more sense.

I have a paper asshole and I’m OK with that. What I really want to know though, is how in the hell can a person tell just by the way I talk? There are a lot of things you can tell about a person by their speech; the inflections, vocabulary, dialect. But, to identify the type of asshole someone has by listening to them speak, now that is a true gift.

Maybe I’m giving others too much credit. Maybe I just exude paper asshole when I open my mouth. Maybe people have to leave the room because my paper asshole is offensive. Maybe it isn’t even my words, maybe there is a smell. Maybe I smell like construction paper or something. Gosh, this could be worse than I ever imagined. Though, if I smelled like a paper asshole, wouldn’t people tell me “you smell like a paper asshole”?

Well, whatever the case, I’ve got one. I’m sure there are more than a few of you out there wondering what it means or how it works. Well, the next time you see me, ask me to show you. It is fairly complicated and I just don’t think I can do it justice in written form. Just don’t tell me I talk like a man with a paper asshole, I already know this.

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Drivel Photography

Screw E.T. And His Fear Mongering

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Scotch Descriptions

Childhood Fantasies

A freshly lit Davidoff. Swimming in a room of fine, hand-tanned leather. Aunt Mary’s angel food cake faintly emerges from Grandfather’s pipe. Tobacco smoke, chimney sweep. Melted rubber transpires from the watery depths. Fresh wood chips bring the evening to a close.

One Of Only 712 Bottles
Aged 7 Years
64.1% ALC/VOL

Cask: EX Bourbon

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Drivel

Complaining About Complainers

Hey fat guy bitching about having to move to your assigned seat on the plane, shut up and sit down. Nice try attempting to steal the aisle seat. It isn’t yours; your ticket clearly states this, so just move. Yeah, get off your fat ass, stop bitching about how you were “suppose to have” the aisle seat and maneuver. Stop spurting about “your son booking the ticket” or “how you always get the isle”. The nice lady is waiting to sit down and there are two dozen passengers losing patience in the aisle waiting to reach their assigned seats.

Sure, you could lose 100 lbs. or suck it up and stop whining, but what fun is in that. I mean, I wouldn’t have been blessed to hear your shit that day. The poor woman, who was probably up since 4am dealing with the shit that is modern air travel, wouldn’t have had to deal with your garbage either. What about the other passengers in the area, who, like me, got to enjoy your bullshit. And I’m sure the staff on the plane can’t wait for an asshole like you to board. We all would have had a much nicer day, but fuck that — that wasn’t in the cards for you and your fat ass was it?

I’ll tell you what, buddy

go fuck yourself.

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Photography

Summer At The Lake

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Drivel

She Walks Like A Bearded Rainbow