Okay I admit it: I'm broke. This is not an easy thing for me to say in public. It has come to the point that I need to face facts and confess that I am losing the battle against my suffocating debt. I'm not very good at handling money, like the time I took my rent and bet it all on street corner caterpillar racing, or when I bought those magic beans from Ebay for $2,000 each and they grew a vine into the clouds but the only thing up there was a angry giant that told me the princess was in another castle. I also have my fair share of vices such as my cravings for fancy imported beer, an insatiable hot air balloon fetish, and my Precious Moments hummels. It's at the point right now where I'm not quite ready to give handjobs for nickels, but on the brink of waving the white flag and declaring bankruptcy and letting Uncle Sam come over to my house and punch me in the solarplexus a few times. It's not a favorable situation.
Before I jump off a bridge and leave my enormous bills for my loved ones, I thought it would be worth a shot to try to dig myself out of the hole on my own. Besides, once you owe the government, the next thing you know they want to sleep on your couch and date your sister. I've never been afraid of getting my hands a little dirty or coming up with new and exciting ideas to generate income. For instance, you may have noticed that I have rented out my title and pictures to interested companies advertising their goods to you, the consumer. I wanted to take it a step further and add some pop-up Flash ads to the front page, but when I asked Senor Lowtax about it he said "no", so when I did it anyway he got really angry and killed my pet poodle Pepe. He's such a card, that one. Regardless, this is just one of the ideas that I'm brainstorming to get me out of debt so I can pass checks at the grocery store without having to wear my fake handlebar mustache. Even If I fail, maybe I can at least make enough to invest in some water wings and escape to some Caribbean island, preferably one devoid of skeletons, pirates, or skeleton pirates. Unless the pirates are Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom. They may plunder my treasure any day if you know what I am getting at with that statement (gay sex).
My wife calls me swampfoot!
Pal for a day
There are a lot of lonely people out there. With this advanced age of technology, there is no real reason to leave the house, and friends are not being made anymore. Sure you make online friends like my pal Hichoro Iztuto, a 10 year old Korean boy who constantly beats me at Starcraft and mocks me in his own secret language, but real friends you can hang out with are hard to come by. The service I would be providing would be just to hang out with you for day and keep you company. We could go to a ball game, watch a movie, or go out to the bar and knock back a few cold ones. Whatever you want to do is cool by me. I just have a couple of ground rules:
#1 - I will not engage in an illegal act like helping you bury a hooker UNLESS I had an active part in the events leading to her demise.
#2 - I will not watch the movie "Cool Runnings" under any circumstance.
#3 - Nothing of a sexual nature. I am just a pal to hang out with and do friend stuff. But if you are interested in something of that nature I do have a lengthy price list available.
You might be surprised to find out the street performers actually make a fair amount of money. Some think they're almost on the same level as a common hobo, but most do very well for themselves if they are skilled enough in their trade. I was trying to think of things I could do myself to cash in on my talents, but then I remembered that I don't have any. Being a mime would be the only thing I could probably pull off, but then I would have to beat myself up because I hate mimes with a passion. I could break dance a little back in the day, but you can't make a whole lot doing that. The real money is made by those monkey grinder guys. All you need is a organ to grind and a little monkey with a fez to amuse the good folks at the park or street corner. The only problem is that I don't have the cash for the initial investment of acquiring the monkey in question, so I can either try to steal one from the zoo or just dress my cat up like a monkey. This scheme needs more time to work the kinks out.
I'll be willing to examine any breasts for a very reasonable price. Although I have no experience in the medical field, I would take my time and do it very carefully to make sure the breasts are devoid of any lumps that could possibly be tumors or alien eggs. This week is Breast Cancer Awareness Week and I want to do my part in helping to battle the war against terrorism. If you are interested in having your breasts examined by me, my office is located in the rusty blue van by the old forest. Please don't tell any friends or family where you are going before your appointment with me (insurance reasons).
Getting hit in the balls by an infant and winning $1,000 on America's Funniest Home Videos
This is a foolproof plan. I know because I've done something similar when I lost all my money on a horse race a while ago. I put a little BBQ sauce on my groin area and had my pet dog jump to get at it and hit me in the balls with its nose. It sure hurt a lot, but I ended up winning the big prize on America's Funniest Home Videos and spent it on a massive cocaine binge. This time I am going to do something different and have an infant hit me in the balls, maybe with a bat or baseball. Regardless, it's the easiest way to make a quick buck. Wait a second, is this show even still on the air? If not then I'm fucked. Maybe I'll just sell the infant on the black market for some quality opium and get really high.
I know, I know. Listen, I'm desperate here and will do anything it takes to avoid being sent to debtors prison and getting brutally tickled at night by my accountant bunkmate that was convicted of tax fraud. There are many areas in my city that have a high traffic of children playing in and around areas where cars whip through the streets at a dangerous rate. I would be willing, for a fair price, to sell my services to the road commission and serve as a speed bump in these areas. Drivers would be forced to slow down when rolling over me, and the parents wouldn't have to worry about their kids being at risk near a busy road. I was also thinking about selling my plasma but I’m afraid of needles and I’m convinced they are saving it to build a clone army to take over space and build a Death Star. Porkins was my favorite character in "Star Wars" and it was a crime that he was killed in such a cowardly manner.
This is by far my most risky money making idea, but the payoff is the greatest. I have been staking out the bank on the corner, going in every few days to check out the security routines and cameras. The only gun I own is a Marlin .22, but it can still put out an eye out at 50 yards. Unfortunately it’s useless against body armor if things don’t go as planned and the SWAT teams gets called in, so I’m also going to bring a jar of marbles with me. All I have to do is throw them on the ground and all the cops will slip on the marbles like in the movies and I can make my getaway. If you don’t see my articles for a few weeks, you’ll know that my plan worked and I’m just laying low until the heat blows over. Either that or I’m riddled with bullets and dead.
That’s all of the ideas I can come up with right now, but I’m going to keep on trying to pay off my bills so I don’t have to turn on the red light and sell my body to the night. At least using advertisements in my articles have already yielded me a tidy sum. Unfortunately I’ve already squandered this money on Pokeman trading cards, but maybe someday they’ll be worth a million dollars. Until then, I’ll just keep on truckin’ and beat the shit out of vending machines for their precious coins. Bye for now!
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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