This is me at Stage 84 in Davie.  I love me a little bit of women vs. man comedy.  Thanks for everyone who constantly supports my stand-up.

I’m working on developing a new startup in regards to customer service that I feel can change the way multiple industries do business forever.

I just need to promise myself I’m not going to play Madden 11 tonight and finish all the pre-model write ups…

Wish me luck.

Yeahhhhhhh Boyyyyyyyyyy, Hitler getting BJs from American youth is quite a thought if you ask me.

In regards to my posting about a comedic romp across the country, my counterpart poses a different project.

Rock and Roll.

This beautiful girl pictured is Kamilla.

She works for a major granite company in Brazil.  On a regular basis, I teeter from looking for a loving, cute, ball of love to simply fall into every night and who’d be the perfect mother to my un-born son or a sales shark.

Someone I could give her own company and her own things separate from me (because I know that wives and business never mix) and she could make me millions of dollars, and who probably loves money and traveling above all else.  A clothes designer, or interior designer, granite salesgirl or government assassin.

We would have those whirlwind trips getting drunk in Barcelona and Athens, eating in the greatest restaurants in the world, all the while listening to Led Zeppelin albums full blast (hint hint) and making fun of the idiot retarded masses and their inability to stop posting negative Facebook statuses and bitching about their bosses.

We’d have kids but she wouldn’t want to be around them too much, my mom would be the greatest perennial babysitter ever, allowing my future wife and I to travel to Monaco and Singapore while discovering each others minds and bodies and dividing the entire world between us.

Of course, this type of girl has her drawbacks (stripping, drug dealer boyfriends trying to kill me, love of the drug ecstasy), so I then teeter back into the smiling loving support system who I can call at home when I’m on the road and open up my true feelings to.  The type of girl that if anything in this world happens will stand next to me and kiss my cheek and allow for complete security.

I’m not saying Kamilla is either one of these girls, or that either one of these molds or that she’s even cool, I’m not sure yet.  But these molds exist, I hang out with them everyday, and until my fickle self can find which road I’m going to take, I’ll stay right here enjoying the ride.

Traps

Walking towards life’s final goal

Unable to see the anything but the beautiful warmth of future conquest

Then here comes the fucking trap

A trap is that girl that threatens my conquest

Like a clawed bear trap, her talons rip into my legs

Lay in the sun until my shoulders are pus oozing open sores

The claws feel amazing, I want to stay

Traps

Fuck you traps

Want to have Agoraphobia with you

Will have to destroy for you

Will have to be destroyed for you

So Instead leave you laying there

Masturbation is empty

Empty am I

I have a deep secret.

For some unknown reason, anytime I do sales or administrative visits to my multiple companies I partake in a very strange habit…

I do my manly waste removal business in the Women’s bathroom.

I’m aware that I’m opening myself up to a world’s supply of torment and witty ribbing, but I can’t help but wonder why I do it?

Is it simply because woman are the cleaner more delicate species and I’d prefer to subject myself to their area of relief?

No

Is it that by chance I employ less female workers in these companies, so the woman’s bathroom has traveled less ass mileage?

Highly unlikely

Do I possibly adhere to gender stereotypes that proclaim woman to be much better at picking up after themselves?

I do, but it’s not the reason

Does their poo smell better?

Hell no it doesn’t

What is it then?

It’s because when I was a child.  Very few things intrigued me more than the female form.  I wanted to know anything and everything that pertained to vagina and how it was used and how they differ from us and why they seem to occupy almost all of my living thought.

I never thought that girls were gross.

Never did a moment exist where I didn’t acknowledge the fairer sex as the fairer sex.  They always smelled better, were softer, their hair was sexier, everything was better about the female figure.

And the one place that I envisioned all of these things were in display were in the girl’s bathroom.

Of course, I have grown to be proven wrong, but maybe the one perk I’ve been striving for all along, and that secretly and subconciously drove me to wanting to be the number one in my business was the fact that I knew…

that one day…

I would be able to go into the woman’s bathroom…

and piss all over the toilet seats.