There's been a suspicious rumor lurking about that Killer and Liz may be the same person. I can tell you that this is speculation only. We are both very real. We both like travel and garlic. We both want to do more traveling and more beer drinking than we are currently doing. One of us is nice to old people and animals and is probably going to Heaven.
This theory has prompted me to think about what it would be like to chronicle a day in Killer's shoes; a day totally from his vantage point. I fully expect him to assume the role of Liz in an upcoming post. I'd love to know how he THINKS I spend my time and what he thinks are my priorities.
Doing this was harder than you think. I can assure you, this won't be pretty.
Liz writes, like she was Killer:
I'm writing from work, which finally got Internet access about 3 months ago. Unfortunately I have to blog from my laptop in patients' rooms. This proves to be difficult because most of the plugs are used for I.V.'s and life support equipment. Those machines have a 30-minute battery storage, so if I make this post quick, Mr. Garland should be OK. If not, he's been in a coma for over 8 months. Maybe it's time for a push from the nest.
Being a nurse on the floor where many non-responsive patients reside can get boring. I've already inserted a catheter just to see if it will make my life more convenient. So far, it hasn't. I think it will come in handy later tonight though when I ask Nurse Jill is she wants to touch "my sack" and then point to the bag. She has to do it. It's part of the nursing code of ethics.
My best friend, Clib, is an artist. I'm always around paint and brushes and sketch pads when I'm at his house. Since we're about to be in the same town again, Mrs. Clib is going to go crazy when I start using Clib's art supplies. I've already used my body as a canvas (see Ass Flowers in BEST OF). Now I'm planning to create a series of "Balls dipped in paint". I'm taking "Paint Ball" in a whole new direction. Those will be my handcrafted Christmas gifts this year. Since I have 3 testicles, I may turn all of the prints into smiley faces. Something with a button nose. After all, it's the holiday. I need to be thinking of the children.
Because of my new found dedication to fitness I have been avoiding fast food. Yesterday I broke down and went to Wendy's for dinner. I was walking in when I heard, "Would you like fries with that shake?" I turned around and saw a group of college girls approaching me. I knew I was looking good, but I didn't know I was looking that good. Immediately I hatched a plan. Since it involved a 5-way, I'll spare the details. Immediately my plan was foiled as I realized it was the drive-thru speaker. What are the chances that that would actually happen to someone?
My co-blogger Liz will be leaving next weekend for Italy. I know where she hides the spare key. I'm thinking about collecting all the stray cats I can round up and putting them in her house. At the rate that cats multiply, her home will be overrun by the time she gets back. I'll leave an anonymous tip with the freaks at PETA. This might make her angry, and I may have to pay with one of my nads, but I think it would be worth it.
I think my penis just farted. There is some sort of gas bubble sitting inside my catheter bag. Finally! My dream of finding new ways to expel gas is complete. My quest for world domination is only one task away. All I need is some Shea butter, a mechanical pencil, and Bob Barker.
It's been 46 minutes. I'd better plug the heart monitor back in before Nurse 2 figures out what's going on.
Oh! I almost forgot! Mooseknuckle!
Showing posts with label Take the Liz Challenge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Take the Liz Challenge. Show all posts
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Taking the Liz Challenge
Killer, never backs down from a challenge.
Liz challenged me in a previous post. To my dismay the Liz challenge did not involve any blind taste tests of Liz. I still agreed to take part, reluctantly.
Killer woke up in an even more upbeat mood than usual. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and he was not required to wipe any ass for two days. There was no shortage of ass lying around filthy and untouched, but due to fortunate scheduling, it would be up to some other sucker to wipe them.
He glanced over at his alarm clock and saw it read 6:15. Years of working night shift left him with the inability to determine if it was AM or PM. He threw back the covers and maneuvered his large, stinky feet to the floor. It took a surprisingly long time to find a spot unoccupied by clothes, or other objects. After stepping on what appeared to be a small, wet cat, which squealed and ran for cover, he finally found solid footing and stood up. The extra thick, black fabric that covered his window was pulled aside and fresh, clean sunlight poured into the room revealing weeks of dirty clothes piled calf deep. "I really got to clean up today." After a few moments of deep thought, Killer realized he did not own a cat and leapt onto the bed screaming like a school girl. Killer thought to himself, "My life needs a laugh track for moments like this."
After a harrowing dash to the hallway and slamming the bedroom door safely shut, he went to the laundry room and pulled some clean clothes out of the dryer. Luckily, there is always an odd load of clothes living in the dryer, and he had a firm belief that wrinkles were very slimming.
The doorbell rang and Killer pranced happily to the front door, nothing was going to bring him down on his day off. He opened the door to reveal a beautiful young lady in a doo doo brown UPS uniform. Killer thought to himself about how unfortunate it was that even away from work his mind was barraged with that color. He quickly recovered and decided to try out his "game" on this lovely lass. "I have a package for you." She said in a surprisingly unsultry voice. "What a coincidence, I have a package for you as well." Killer said with a a seductive raise of his left eyebrow. "Uhh..here, this might be more along your lines." She pulled a box that looked like it had been dragged here from the warehouse. Hanging out the side of the box was a dejected looking inflatable sheep with "All Newly Designed Life-Like Orifices." Killer took the debilitated box and dangling sheep as the UPS/model walked quickly back to her shit brown truck. "If my sheep has an air leak, I'm calling your boss!" He yelled with growing indignation. "Yeah, a laugh track would come in really handy right about now." Thought Killer as he closed the door.
Killer stowed Shelly the Sex Sheep in his bathroom and headed out for the gym. A good workout was really needed to get his spirits back up.
Arriving at the gym, he was amazed to get the spot right in front of the door. "Rock Star parking! Things are looking up." He said to himself in the rear view mirror with a conciliatory wink. After reaching his locker, he realized that he did not bring any extra underwear. Not wanting to drive home afterwards in a pair of sweaty, wet underwear killer made the executive decision to work out commando style. After a quick glance around, he slipped his gym shorts back on, sans skivvies. As he headed out of the locker room he noticed a sign that had, before now, gone unnoticed. "All members must wear shirts, shoes, and undergarments on the gym floor." Killer smiled as he walked out with a jingle in his step, enjoying the feel of freedom. "I am such a rebel."
Killer powered through 30 minutes of cardio, which was always easier because the cardio machines looked out over the weight area and into the aerobic room. If you planned your day just right you can work out while watching the Yoga class filled with hot young gals. If you planned it wrong you watched old woman doing step aerobics. Killer made sure to plan right.
After cardio he sauntered over to the weights feeling good and deciding today he needed to show some strength to the ladies. He positioned himself right in front of the aerobic room window. He figured bending over for some Roman Dead Lifts would accentuate his supple behind. He strained through one set and decided to up the weight, just in case any ladies in the class had taken notice. Killer lifted the weight, bent over and realized it might be too much. He buckled down and gave it every thing he had. There was a loud rip and Killer felt a cool, luxurious breeze blow the small hairs on the back of his balls. Suddenly there was an uproar of applause and intense laughter from inside the aerobics room.
All the members in the rest of the gym area looked at the ruckus and noticed the Yoga ladies pointing through the window at Killer. He looked around nervously trying to find a way to minimize the outbreak. "What did you guys do?" He asked with a sheepish grin.
It was at that moment, while everyone shifted uncomfortably, that Killer came to the sad realization that there was no laugh track to accompany his comment.
He quickly scuttled sideways toward the locker room, when the rest of the gym burst into laughter. In his haste, Killer had maneuvered himself in front of a mirror. Killer finally realized he did not, unfortunately, need a laugh track for his life. There was enough laughter to last a life time.
Liz challenged me in a previous post. To my dismay the Liz challenge did not involve any blind taste tests of Liz. I still agreed to take part, reluctantly.
Killer woke up in an even more upbeat mood than usual. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and he was not required to wipe any ass for two days. There was no shortage of ass lying around filthy and untouched, but due to fortunate scheduling, it would be up to some other sucker to wipe them.
He glanced over at his alarm clock and saw it read 6:15. Years of working night shift left him with the inability to determine if it was AM or PM. He threw back the covers and maneuvered his large, stinky feet to the floor. It took a surprisingly long time to find a spot unoccupied by clothes, or other objects. After stepping on what appeared to be a small, wet cat, which squealed and ran for cover, he finally found solid footing and stood up. The extra thick, black fabric that covered his window was pulled aside and fresh, clean sunlight poured into the room revealing weeks of dirty clothes piled calf deep. "I really got to clean up today." After a few moments of deep thought, Killer realized he did not own a cat and leapt onto the bed screaming like a school girl. Killer thought to himself, "My life needs a laugh track for moments like this."
After a harrowing dash to the hallway and slamming the bedroom door safely shut, he went to the laundry room and pulled some clean clothes out of the dryer. Luckily, there is always an odd load of clothes living in the dryer, and he had a firm belief that wrinkles were very slimming.
The doorbell rang and Killer pranced happily to the front door, nothing was going to bring him down on his day off. He opened the door to reveal a beautiful young lady in a doo doo brown UPS uniform. Killer thought to himself about how unfortunate it was that even away from work his mind was barraged with that color. He quickly recovered and decided to try out his "game" on this lovely lass. "I have a package for you." She said in a surprisingly unsultry voice. "What a coincidence, I have a package for you as well." Killer said with a a seductive raise of his left eyebrow. "Uhh..here, this might be more along your lines." She pulled a box that looked like it had been dragged here from the warehouse. Hanging out the side of the box was a dejected looking inflatable sheep with "All Newly Designed Life-Like Orifices." Killer took the debilitated box and dangling sheep as the UPS/model walked quickly back to her shit brown truck. "If my sheep has an air leak, I'm calling your boss!" He yelled with growing indignation. "Yeah, a laugh track would come in really handy right about now." Thought Killer as he closed the door.
Killer stowed Shelly the Sex Sheep in his bathroom and headed out for the gym. A good workout was really needed to get his spirits back up.
Arriving at the gym, he was amazed to get the spot right in front of the door. "Rock Star parking! Things are looking up." He said to himself in the rear view mirror with a conciliatory wink. After reaching his locker, he realized that he did not bring any extra underwear. Not wanting to drive home afterwards in a pair of sweaty, wet underwear killer made the executive decision to work out commando style. After a quick glance around, he slipped his gym shorts back on, sans skivvies. As he headed out of the locker room he noticed a sign that had, before now, gone unnoticed. "All members must wear shirts, shoes, and undergarments on the gym floor." Killer smiled as he walked out with a jingle in his step, enjoying the feel of freedom. "I am such a rebel."
Killer powered through 30 minutes of cardio, which was always easier because the cardio machines looked out over the weight area and into the aerobic room. If you planned your day just right you can work out while watching the Yoga class filled with hot young gals. If you planned it wrong you watched old woman doing step aerobics. Killer made sure to plan right.
After cardio he sauntered over to the weights feeling good and deciding today he needed to show some strength to the ladies. He positioned himself right in front of the aerobic room window. He figured bending over for some Roman Dead Lifts would accentuate his supple behind. He strained through one set and decided to up the weight, just in case any ladies in the class had taken notice. Killer lifted the weight, bent over and realized it might be too much. He buckled down and gave it every thing he had. There was a loud rip and Killer felt a cool, luxurious breeze blow the small hairs on the back of his balls. Suddenly there was an uproar of applause and intense laughter from inside the aerobics room.
All the members in the rest of the gym area looked at the ruckus and noticed the Yoga ladies pointing through the window at Killer. He looked around nervously trying to find a way to minimize the outbreak. "What did you guys do?" He asked with a sheepish grin.
It was at that moment, while everyone shifted uncomfortably, that Killer came to the sad realization that there was no laugh track to accompany his comment.
He quickly scuttled sideways toward the locker room, when the rest of the gym burst into laughter. In his haste, Killer had maneuvered himself in front of a mirror. Killer finally realized he did not, unfortunately, need a laugh track for his life. There was enough laughter to last a life time.
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