Oh, My Aching Back!
Goddamnit, my back hurts. But that’s what I get for trying to raise boxing kangaroos in my apartment. I get a big kangaroo punch in my back! Yowch! Let me start from the beginning.
The other day I was sitting on my couch, trying to figure out how to make enough money so that I could retire for good and live on a sweet ass houseboat, when all of a sudden it hit me: train kangaroos to box and then promote their bouts. Kablammo-that’s a billion dollar idea. If cartoons and sepia-tinted silent filmstrips have taught me anything, it’s that kangaroos make excellent boxers. Now all I had to do was get my hands on some ‘roos and I would be in the money.
I called up the Australian consulate and asked for some kangaroos, but they must have thought it was a prank because they called me a “wanker” and told me to go blow myself. I didn’t have many other options, so I ended up breaking into the zoo and stealing one. Oh boy, did that kangaroo put up a fight. If there’s one lesson I’ve learned about kangaroos in real life, it’s that they DO NOT enjoy having a burlap sack tossed over their heads in the middle of the night and being dragged out of the zoo.
Anyway, I hurt my back because yesterday Destructo(that’s what I’ve named my kangaroo) punched me in the back when I bent over to pick up his boxing gloves for our daily training session. So now I’m back on the couch and well, Destructo pretty much has the run of the house. He’s been running back and forth all day, breaking stuff, and eating all the food out of my refrigerator. As soon as I get back on my feet, I’m going to put him on some sort of leash, teach him some discipline, and mold him into the greatest fighting kangaroo the world has ever seen. That’s a promise.
Okay, first day on the new job. Got to make a good impression. Work hard, stay busy, look alert. That’s right, just play it cool. Gonna have a long career here at Henderson’s Nail & Glue Factory. Oh, yeah, gonna be the best night watchman they ever had.
Well, it happened again. Another one of my MySpace friends raped me last night. Sure, this isn’t the first time it’s happened, but you never really get used to it no matter how many times it happens. What’s weird about last night’s raping is that I actually knew this MySpace friend before I met him online. It was my buddy Pete. I don’t know what it is about MySpace that turns normal people into voracious rapists, but I’m fed up with it. I guess the online world isn’t safe for ridiculously handsome comedians/temps like myself who just want to use a networking site to post photos of their awesome abs. But I’m going to change all that. Follow these online safety tips and you should be saying, “I didn’t get raped today” in no time.
I barely have time to write this because I want to beat the traffic to get out to my beach house. You all have beach houses, right? I certainly hope so. I would hate to think there are people reading my site who are so poor they can only afford one house. That would depress me to no end. Actually, my beach house isn’t so much a house as it is a compound, made up of 50 individual houses. See, I’m a real patriot, so I purchased 50 houses, moved them all onto the same piece of land by the beach, and then I named them after the 50 states. Then I hired 50 prostitutes to live in the houses, and I named the prostitutes after the state capitals. That way I can just say to my butler, “Fetch the golf cart, Buster. I feel like banging Des Moines, Iowa today.” And then it is so. See how patriotic I am? I make Toby Keith look like Osama bin Laden.
Hey. Ha ha. Here’s a totally-and I mean totally-hypothetical question. Let’s just say there is this guy, we’ll call him, I don’t know, Zack Stakoda. Yeah, that’s a good and completely fake name that has no resemblance to any real person. Let’s say Zack Stakoda, due to some misunderstandings and a completely unfair justice system, is required by law to tell all of his neighbors that he is a registered sex offender. Okay, we’re talking hypothetical still. All right? Totally not true.
A lot of people don’t know this about me, but, in addition to be an awesomely famous comedian and all-around playboy, I also moonlight as a limo driver. That’s right, whenever I need some extra scratch I do some driving for Touch of Class Limousine Service. And since this is prom season, I’m making money like a limo driver on prom night. Wink, wink.
Guess who’s coaching a Little League team this summer! Give up? It’s me! I just got hired as the head coach of the Brooklyn Bearcats, a lovable bunch of sluggers in the 10 year old division. And I’m going to coach the shit out of them!
So, apparently, some actress 


Okay, I get it, jerks. I’ve put on a little weight recently. Yes, I’m fat. Does that mean that I deserve a barrage of insults whenever I decide to ride my 
