Sunday, August 20, 2017

August 20, 2017

Dear Diary,

As the days roll on by and the medications struggle do their work, I'm finding myself thinking more about changing my life in ways that never occurred to me before. At one point, I was actually considering becoming a preacher, but then I realized there's a lot of reading involved. At the very least, you have to read both the Old Testament and the new Testament, both of which have really small print and practically no pictures, unless you read the children's versions, and those leave out the good parts. I love that Delilah character. You just know she cut a lot more off than Samson's hair. That's my kind of gal.

Lately, I've been thinking I should do something really radical just to shake things up. Something that shows how far I've come in my life, while opening up new vistas in my outlook and make me more relevant with kids.  Then it hit me: I'm going to get a tattoo!

The only question I have is what kind of tattoo and where to put it. As I understand it, this stuff doesn't wash off, so you really need to think it out before letting some fat white hipster begin stabbing you with needles drenched in toxic ink. At this point, I've come up with these options:

1. I could get what the kids call a "tramp stamp," which would be simple and quick. I think if you're going to all the trouble of permanently embroider your flesh, you might as well attach a meaningful message to it, so I'm thinking of a little red devil pointing down to my ass crack with the words, "Aim here." Something confident like that appeals to me.

2.  Then I saw this really cute idea of a woman's face tattooed around my bikini line. You wouldn't be able to see it unless I took off my tighty whitey underpants. The idea is that my fur patch would look like the lady's beard, and over her head would be the words, "Kiss the Bearded Lady!"  That one was suggested by a fat, white hipster who lives across the street. It was fun, but I don't think it's really for me, because if I ever shave that animal it wouldn't make any sense.

3.  One of my best ideas is a photo-realistic picture of the top of Huma's head on my right thigh. It would be kind of on the inside of my leg so that only I could see it during my very personal moments. Let's face it, the way things are going, she's never coming back. I have no idea why she stays with that Pervert Jew. He must have something I don't, although I have a closet full of plastic that I think does the job just as well.

Haven't been to the electrologist in months and my upper lip must be looking a little swampy. I can tell because the hairs are beginning to tickle my nose. I need to either get a specialist in here or have Bessie bring home some mustache wax from Rite Aid.

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