Hotsy-Totsy!

Oh, you're such a hotsy-totsy, aren't you?  I couldn't possibly fuck you, could I?  Of course not!  I'm not tall enough, too old, too bald, too much of a loser.  But here's the thing; you poop, and that's gross!  Yuck!  Yucky wucky!  Yucky poo poo!  There's poop inside you right now!  What's that, hotsy-totsy?  You don't need to poop?  It doesn't matter!  You have tubes inside you that are ALWAYS coated with poop!  Rancid poop!  Double gross!  And you eat meat, dead, rotting animal flesh, which is also gross (and cruel).  You should be so happy that anyone would want to have sex with your poopy ass, but no!  You're choosy!  Choosy woosy!
What's that?  I poop too?  Unfortunately, you are correct.  Yes, I'm gross too; believe me, I know.  That's my point.  We're both gross, so let's be disgusting together!  No?  Oh, well, I tried.       

Computer Blues

 
I have not been able to open my documents using the Microsoft Word Starter 2010 program that came preinstalled on my computer for days now.  I'm usually pretty good at finding answers to my computer problems: not this time.  Perhaps it had something to do with the recent "free" upgrade to Windows 10 that Microsoft offered to me.  If I had known this would happen, I wouldn't have taken the bait.  I have been able to use Libreoffice to open documents that I don't care that much about.  But I was updating Veganman before this happened, which was written using MS Word Starter 2010.  I'm nervous about opening, working on, and saving it using Libreoffice.  I don't want it to get messed up or changed.  I'm hoping it'll be OK (if I have to do it that way), because I can't find a solution to this dilemma.
So I think it's likely I'll change my previous position and rat on my next-door neighbor.  These kids are so f*cking loud.  Their mother is loud too.  She obviously doesn't care to be a good parent and keep her kids under control.  I've seen 2 kids, and I've seen 3 kids.  I assume she has 3 young children.  She's a shitty parent.  That's how I feel about it.  She allows her kids to bother the neighbors.  She acts as though she, and her kids, are entitled to be here.  We'll see about that.  I don't want to be a snitch, but I don't want to deal with this shit either.  Since snitches are so hated, doesn't it take balls to be one?  If I can improve my living situation by making a phone call, why wouldn't I?  That's me.  I don't care what other people think.  I don't care what other people do.  I think and do what I feel like thinking and doing.
Have I mentioned how much I hate pooping?  I hate yawning almost as much.  That's how I start the day: pooping and yawning.  Yawning while pooping.  Do I even have to explain why pooping sucks?  I hope not.  It sucks even more for me because of my OCD; it makes me wipe excessively.  Yawning sucks.  It's boring.  Sometimes, my mouth opens so widely, that it hurts my jaw.              

Closer:Poetry & Prose

 
The closer I get to death, the better.
The closer I get to suicide, the better.
The closer I get to the bottom, the better.
The closer I get to the end, the better.
For that is where the pain will end.
Please allow me to update you on my marvelous career.  Things were going just fine working as a janitor at a bookstore.  Then I walked into the men's room, to clean it, and it hit me: the smell.  It was a bad smell.  I checked the toilets.  Sure enough, one of them was filled with poop soup.  It was so f*cking gross.  I began to gag.  Tears streamed down my face.  What could I do?  I flushed it: hoping it wouldn't overflow.  It didn't, but the noxious mess didn't go down.  I kept flushing it, as I kept gagging with tears rolling down my unremarkable face.  What if I have to plunge it?!  What if some of it splashed onto me as I was doing that?  Fortunately, I made some progress with my flushes.  Finally, after several flushes, it was gone.  But, not surprisingly, the toilet had been annihilated with poop stains.  Lucky me, it was my job to clean it, which led to more gagging and tears.
That wonderful assignment ended.  I was merely filling in for a man that cleans bathrooms 7 days a week.  I'd rather be homeless or dead.  My job developer got me another cleaning job.  I wasn't at all excited about it.  First of all, it was quite a long drive away.  I accepted it anyway.  He took me to my first night there.  I soon learned it would be my responsibility to clean 4 buildings for a company that manufactures bricks or something like that.  The place was filthy.  Floors needed to be mopped, carpets needed to be vacuumed, and toilets needed to be cleaned.  I would spend at least 2 and a half hours working there that night, but I knew pretty early on that I didn't want that shitty job.  On the way back, my job developer and I didn't talk much at all.  I wanted to wait until we were in the parking lot of my apartment building.  Just before getting out of his jeep, I said, "I'm sorry, but I don't want this job."  He said, "Yeah, I figured that."
I'd rather be homeless or dead than clean other people's shit out of toilets. 
          

GG Allin

GG Allin

If you don't know who GG Allin is, you should.  He is a hero of mine.  Human society is a joke.  Rich people stay rich.  Poor people clean their mansions and serve them in every other way.  GG Allin was a real rock and roller.  He criticized singers who tried to sound tough when they sang, and he had every right to.  Rock and roll is supposed to be dangerous.  GG Allin never forgot that; he lived it.  I used to work with a young guy who liked punk rock, which is the genre that Allin is mostly associated with.  I told him about Allin, and he wasn't impressed, which surprised and disappointed me.
GG Allin is known for his insane performances.  He might beat himself bloody.  He might start a fistfight with one or more of the audience members.  He was known to poop onstage.  He was known to throw his poop at the audience.  I'm not sure, but he may have even eaten his poop onstage.  Google GG Allin and find out about him.  He was a true original.  I also recommend the documentary Hated, which is about him, and it is great.   

I hate pooping!

Nothing to do with pooping, but it should be seen.

Oh!  I hate pooping so much!  The thrill is gone, and it's been gone for a long time now.  Although, I never get tired of looking at my poop.  I could look at my poop forever and ever and ever and ever.  I hate wiping my ass; that's for sure!  I have OCD, and one of the ways it manifests itself is with excessive ass wiping.  I will wipe, wipe, wipe until I see NOTHING (except for blood, which I've seen on toilet paper plenty of times after wiping) on the toilet paper. 
What a waste of time it is!  I've spent so much of my life pooping and wiping my ass.  Some people are really into juicing.  I Googled, "If you only drink juice, will you still poop?"  The answer, unfortunately, is yes.  The consensus was that you'll have a little, wet poop, but you will poop.  It seems like there's just no way around pooping.  It is a necessary evil.
Also as a result of OCD, I hate pooping anywhere but my home.  I hate pooping regardless, but I despise doing it anywhere else but home.  Public restrooms are gross.  I barely tolerate peeing there.  Those places are germ festivals.  I wear long-sleeved shirts: even in the summer.  The main reason I do it is becasue it covers my arms, so I don't have to put sunscreen on them, which saves both time and money.  But there's another advantage as well.  Whenever I have to grab a handle to enter or exit a public restroom, I touch it with a shirtsleeve instead of my skin.
Ever think about how much poop comes out of all the asses, human and animal, in one day?  It must be tons' worth.  So much poop.  A crazy amount of poop.  There's no doubt in my mind that people have killed themselves because they didn't want to poop, or wipe, anymore.  It's one more thing about life that sucks.
It's amazing to me that people are so sex crazy.  I'm not.  A beautiful woman looks great, but, first of all, she probably won't be into my bald loser ass, and, secondly, she farts and poops, which is gross.  So keep it all in perspective.  The most beautiful people in the world fart and poop out the stink.  They're just like you and me in that regard.     

Holy Asteroids!

Bumpkin was very young in this one.

"Phooey!" said Bumpkin.  "I'm tired of hearing about all these darn near misses with asteroids or meteors, or whatever the heck they're called!  Since, as usual, no one else is stepping up to do anything about it, I'll have to put in some time!  Who wants to come with me to reduce some asteroids to rubble?"
Sloopy and Lucinda cheered; I did not.
"You're going too, buster," Bumpkin said to me.
"Wow.  All of a sudden: deja vu."
"If all humans are as unappreciative as you are, then you all shall deserve to be slaughtered big time when I finally make my big move.  I'm taking you safely through space; not even Micheal Jordan can do that."
"I am so glad and grateful I've been to the moon, Mars, and Uranus.  I especially liked Uranus."
"I like Uranus too," Bumpkin replied.   We all had a good chuckle.
"I'm just tired of wearing adult diapers and pooping myself during bowel-wrenching space travel."
"Speak for yourself, poopypants.  It doesn't bother my bowels at all."
"With all due respect, Madame Bumpkin, you have very powerful forces protecting you and giving you a multitude of superpowers.  I bet you don't even feel pain."
"What is pain?"
"Something you don't feel.  And you're probably lucky to not feel it; especially since you have rapid automatic self-healing powers. "
"Yes, it's good to be me; for I shall be king of the world soon," said Bumpkin.
"Well, they say that the meek shall inherit the Earth."
"Who the heck says that?"
"People."
"That figures.  Lots of people are dumb."
"I must admit you are correct.  And the fact that you, who's a groundhog, said such a truism is all the more astonishing."
"Carpe diem.  Now, let's go bust up some asteroids!"
This time, we all cheered.  Why not?  It did sound like fun, and I'm sure we'd be safe, but I'm worried I'll poop my pants again.  What the heck?  I'll make it a personal challenge.  My goal is a noble one; I wish to not poop my pants today. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

I've Been to Mars!

Bumpkin got us to Mars in 35 seconds flat.

"Who wants to go to Mars?" is how it started.  Who asked that bold question?  Bumpkin.  Sloopy and Lucinda cheered: I did not.
"You're going too buster," Bumpkin informed me.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied.  I don't want to give her any more reasons to launch any more fireballs at my backside.  She has toasted my buns.
"You know what to do," Bumpkin said to me.
"Put on an adult diaper."
"Exactly."
"Will do, Mistress Bumpkin."
"Although, this time, we'll be travelling in your car.  My hope is that you won't want to soil the seat of your own car, so maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to hold it in and not poop your pants, for a change, during space travel."
"We shall see my princess."
"And pack some food, Jackamoe."
"Yes ma'am."
When we were all ready, we went downstairs and got into my car.  I've driven Bumpkin around quite a bit, but I think that's the first time I ever had all 3 of the sisters in my car at once.  It might be the first time I ever had Sloopy and Lucinda in my car.  Holy crap!  I better bring some sort of a litter box: even if it's just a temporary one.  I don't know how long it will take us to get to Mars, but knowing Bumpkin, and how her superpowers just keep getting stronger and stronger, it probably won''t take us long.  She pretty much has the power of teleportation, so I estimate my car will be landing in Mars about 42 seconds after the Ford Escort is launched: perhaps sooner, but certainly not later that that.
Yes, I checked my watch, and it took us 35 seconds.   Bumpkin has, as usual, manufactured an environment for us within an invisible bubble that allows us to breath and function as we normally do.  They're right; it is red.  It's definitely red.  It's also dusty and rocky balboa. 
"I want a freaking sandwich," Bumpkin declared.
Why the heck not?  Right now, Lebron James is the toast of the town.  First of all, he's no Michael Jordan, he may be one day, but he certainly isn't yet.  The point is, let's see Lebron safely transport a Ford Escort to Mars from the Earth (obviously) in 35 seconds.
By the way, I didn't poop my pants this time!

A Picnic on the Moon: Part Deux

Bumpkin Wumpkin

It didn't take us long to get to the moon.  The landing was very smooth: courtesy of Bumpkin.  Upon landing, she immediately expanded the size of the bubble, so we would have plenty of room to roam around and explore. 
"Let's play Frisbee," Bumpkin said.
"Great idea, Ms. Bumpkin," I said.  I located the Frisbee and tossed it to Bumpkin, who caught it with her superpowers: not her paws.
"Get to steppin'," she said to me.
"Yes, ma'am."  I jogged away from my groundhog house guests.  Once I determined I was far enough away, I turned around to look for the Frisbee.  As soon as I did, it struck me in the face at great velocity.  It not only knocked me down; it knocked me out.  Once I came to, I saw the sisters standing over me.  They were trying to hold in the laughter, but they weren't succeeding. 
"Are you okay?" Bumpkin asked me.
"I think so," I replied.  "But I don't know if I'm up for anymore Frisbee.  Could we eat now?"
"Of course," Bumpkin said.  She used her powers to spread the blanket and set things up.  I reached for an apple, and I felt something hit my hand: hard.  I put off grabbing that apple.
"Ah, Bumpkin," I said.  "Did you just slap my hand with your powers?"
"I sure did."
"Why, Bumpkin, why?"
"Because we haven't said grace yet.  I want you to do the honors."
"Yes, ma'am.  Dear God, we thank you-"
"Wait a second," said Bumpkin.  Who is this God you're thanking?  Is she a human or a groundhog?"
Bumpkin is deadly.  She's already hit me in the ass with one of her fireballs of destruction.  Which is why I said, "She's a groundhog, of course."
"Good answer.  Proceed."
"Yes.  Thank you for this food we're about to eat.  Amen."
"That was pretty short, buster," said Bumpkin.
"Well, sometimes less is more.  Bumpkin, could you please pass the pickled peppers?"
"Certainly," she said.  The pickled peppers flew out of the jar and hit me in the face, which led to great gales of laughter emanating from the 3 groundhog sisters. 
"Good one, Bumpkin," I had to admit.
"You make it so easy.  You asked for it," she replied.
After some more hijinks and shenanigans, all perpetuated by Bumpkin, we feasted.  Then we went for a stroll.  I never thought I'd be able to look at the Earth from the moon, but, thanks to Bumpkin, that's exactly what I was able to do.  I saw something.  I pointed to it.  "Look at that," I said.  Sloopy and Lucinda looked, but Bumpkin didn't bother to do so.  It was headed toward us.  "Do you know what that is, Bumpkin?" I asked.
"Of course.  I summoned it from the Earth.  It's an adult diaper: for you.  I'm sick and tired of changing you after you poop yourself during space travel.  You will wear it during the trip back to Earth.  And if you poop your pants, you will have to stew in your own juices until you get home and change yourself for a change."
"I don't really need to wear it, Bumpkin."
"Phooey!  You've pooped your pants twice now, and I've changed you twice!  You will wear it: end of discussion!"
I knew she was in no mood for an argument, so I put it on.  And, sure enough, I soiled it on the way back.  "You were right, Bumpkin," I had to admit.
"Of course!  I'm always right!  I'm Bumpkin!"
"I know that you're tired of changing me, but could you please just do it once more?"
"Heck, no!  I thought I made myself abundantly clear!  I've changed you for the last time!  Now stew in your own juices!  It's what you deserve for not being able to control yourself!  How come you're the only one?  My sisters are able to hold in their poop."
Right on cue, some poop fell out of Lucinda's butt.
"Holy crap!  Give me a freaking break!" said Bumpkin.

Bumpkin!

Peek-a-boo!  I see you!

I can't believe it!  The inevitable finally happened.  Bumpkin hit me in the ass with a fireball!  She ruined a perfectly good pair of jeans in the process.  At least it wasn't one of her lethals, she just wanted to make a point I guess.  To remind me that she merely tolerates me, and she could take me out anytime, and she can.
By the way, Bumpkin has given up completely on her clone, who looks just like her but has none of the special abilities and superpowers that Bumpkin has.  Bumpkin has kicked her out of my apartment; she must hibernate in the family hole: like a normal groundhog.  This is a good thing; it was crowded enough in here with me and 3 groundhogs.  I'm worried that she'll keep cloning herself until she gets the result she wants though.
Back to the butt burning though.  I must admit that I can be a surly sort.  It's part of the reason why I choose to live alone (I didn't ask Bumpkin and her sisters, Lucinda and Sloopy, to spend the winter hibernating in my apartment; Bumpkin made that decision for me.).  I need to have a place where I can get away and be alone: my home.  I came home from work one day, and I wasn't a happy camper; it was just one of those days (Don't take it personal.).  I walked down the hallway to the bathroom.  I turned my head, glanced into the bedroom, and saw it: groundhog poop.  One of my roomies had missed the kitty litter box by a few inches.  When I first moved in to this apartment, I was glad to have wall-to-wall carpeting.  I've since reconsidered.  Whoever made the choice to install light-colored carpeting into these apartments is a real pain in my ass (No pun intended.).  I wipe my feet so thoroughly before I enter my unit; it makes me feel like more of a nutcase than I usually do.  It doesn't matter; when you have light-colored carpeting, stains will come out of the woodwork.  If I ever buy carpeting, it will either be dark brown or black.  Black is an especially good choice because it is a combination of all the colors.  Therefore, theoretically, whatever you drop onto it will be absorbed by the blackness of it.
So I see groundhog poop on the carpet, and I see red.  I knew Bumpkin didn't do it, because she taught herself to use the toilet shortly after moving in to my unit.  Sometimes she forgets to clean her fur off the toilet seat, but I guess that's just the way the cookie crumbles.  Even though I know Bumpkin can be very protective of her sisters, I couldn't help it.
"Who pooped on the carpet?!" I yelled.  Then I felt it: the fireball hitting my backside.  Whoo!  It burned.  I ran into the bathroom, turned on the cold water, and splashed it all over my butt.  I took off the pants; they were toast.  There was just a little hole burned into my skivvies: no need to trash them.  That was enough of a warning for me.  I dropped the issue entirely.  And Bumpkin, to her credit, levitated the errant poop, and tossed it out of a window.  She even cleaned the stain.   Though I never found out who missed the kitty litter box; I suppose it doesn't matter.
         

Hibernation

Bumpkin's Butt

Groundhogs hibernate, and this winter, 3 of them are hibernating in my apartment: Sloopy, Lucinda, and Bumpkin.  Hopefully, it will only be a winter thing.  However, once one has lived indoors, living outdoors presumably loses some of its charm.  Thankfully, groundhogs are small.  I only have 1 bedroom.  I'm glad I bought that futon.  All 3 sisters fit quite comfortably on it.  I'll probably have to buy another TV.  All of us like to watch 30 Rock and The Office, but we don't agree on everything.  Bumpkin likes to watch CSI, Sloopy's favorite show is Dancing with the Stars, and all of them like any show that features food and how to cook or prepare it: especially Lucinda.  I hope that Bumpkin doesn't find out about cable while she's staying here.  I don't have cable.  If she becomes aware of it, I suppose she'll force me to order it, and then I can probably look forward to hours of Food Network channel watching everyday.  I don't like to watch the Food Network.  There is enough temptation out there.  Delicious food is advertised on TV, on the radio, and in magazines.  It might be mentioned in a book you're reading or by a friend at any time.  Intentionally watching scrumptious food on TV is a bad idea in my opinion.  You're liable to make yourself hungry even when you really aren't. 
I'm doing enough shopping and cooking as it is.  The sisters want to try every vegetarian dish they see prepared on TV.  Bumpkin, since she's the only one of the sisters who can write, is always adding foods to the shopping list.  She's also constantly jotting down recipes for me to try.
Groundhog poop has been a problem; as I expected it would.  They were pooping everywhere but the futon.  I doubt I'll get any of my security deposit back when I eventually move.  Although, Bumpkin could help me get every penny of it if she wanted to do so.  After cleaning poop off the carpet many times, I bought some kitty litter and a litter box.  I explained, to Bumpkin, the purpose of these items.  Fortunately, she was receptive to the idea, and she showed her sisters, through example, how to use the litter box.  So things have definitely improved.  But they just eat more and more.  And, obviously, the more they eat, the more they'll poop.  I've never had a cat before.  I'm not used to changing a litter box 8 times a day.  It seems like it's only going to get worse.  
What will happen when they become groundhog adolescents?  Are they going to have several groundhog boys over?  Are they going to have sleepovers with their friends?  What if Bumpkin learns how to use my computer?  Will she be meeting groundhogs on Craigslist?  Will she spend so much time chatting that I'll never get to use my own computer anymore?  Why, oh why, did I cause all of this by naming Bumpkin Bumpkin and subsequently allow the dark netherworld to bestow her superpowers upon her?