Breakfast of Champions
02-14-2006, 10:43 AM
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Breakfast of Champions
Stolen from another site, but still funny as hell 
so i was on a vacation a while back...............
I awoke from my alcohol induced slumber to my stereo playing Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” on continuous loop. I fished my wallet off the floor and stumbled downstairs to the vending machines for my part of a balanced breakfast. Mellow Yellow and Pop-Tarts. I dropped my Pop-Tarts on the floor only once while opening them and I am proud of this.
As I wipe onto my pant leg dust, dirt, and pubes that stuck to my pop-tart during its brief flirtation with the floor I realize that my pant leg is in fact my boxer leg and that I am well past half mast from a big ole morning woody. I pause and wonder what the sea cow running the front desk saw when I passed earlier. I intentionally keep my head turned away from her as I walk by again.
I take the elevator back up to my floor where I run into a gentleman about my age. This guy was a scrawny black kid well under five feet tall. His question to me was: “ay dawg, did you go to the Girls Gone Wild party last night?”
Now I could answer honestly and tell him that I didn’t even know there was a Girls Gone Wild Party last night and that had I the social contacts to know I would have gone in the hopes of picking up the rejected ***** in need of a validation f*ck. You know the ones, those not attractive enough to make it into the cheap soft-core **** that is Girls Gone Wild and will do anybody so they can feel wanted again.
Instead of giving him a glimpse into my inner soul I grunt and mutter incoherently as I shuffle out of the elevator. He shakes his head in disgust as we pass. F*ck him, i dont know him.
When I get to my room I realize that there are two downsides to forgetting your pants
1) Overexposure of my less than stellar physique.
2) No keys
So who do I have to get help from to re-enter my room from? You guessed it, Fatty McFatima at the front desk. She probably thought this was my clever ploy to herd her up to my room and brand her with some sweet bovine buttsex.
Fatty: “Try not to lock yourself out again, when that happens you’re having to much fun”
Kyle: “Thanks for the advice, that should be on a poster or something”
(Fatty oink-giggles but doesn’t leave)
Kyle: “Well I’m gonna go puke now”
And I can’t honestly that I wouldn’t of at least tried to bang her if I hadn’t of really had to puke.
Life is good.
so i was on a vacation a while back...............
I awoke from my alcohol induced slumber to my stereo playing Queen’s “Don’t Stop Me Now” on continuous loop. I fished my wallet off the floor and stumbled downstairs to the vending machines for my part of a balanced breakfast. Mellow Yellow and Pop-Tarts. I dropped my Pop-Tarts on the floor only once while opening them and I am proud of this.
As I wipe onto my pant leg dust, dirt, and pubes that stuck to my pop-tart during its brief flirtation with the floor I realize that my pant leg is in fact my boxer leg and that I am well past half mast from a big ole morning woody. I pause and wonder what the sea cow running the front desk saw when I passed earlier. I intentionally keep my head turned away from her as I walk by again.
I take the elevator back up to my floor where I run into a gentleman about my age. This guy was a scrawny black kid well under five feet tall. His question to me was: “ay dawg, did you go to the Girls Gone Wild party last night?”
Now I could answer honestly and tell him that I didn’t even know there was a Girls Gone Wild Party last night and that had I the social contacts to know I would have gone in the hopes of picking up the rejected ***** in need of a validation f*ck. You know the ones, those not attractive enough to make it into the cheap soft-core **** that is Girls Gone Wild and will do anybody so they can feel wanted again.
Instead of giving him a glimpse into my inner soul I grunt and mutter incoherently as I shuffle out of the elevator. He shakes his head in disgust as we pass. F*ck him, i dont know him.
When I get to my room I realize that there are two downsides to forgetting your pants
1) Overexposure of my less than stellar physique.
2) No keys
So who do I have to get help from to re-enter my room from? You guessed it, Fatty McFatima at the front desk. She probably thought this was my clever ploy to herd her up to my room and brand her with some sweet bovine buttsex.
Fatty: “Try not to lock yourself out again, when that happens you’re having to much fun”
Kyle: “Thanks for the advice, that should be on a poster or something”
(Fatty oink-giggles but doesn’t leave)
Kyle: “Well I’m gonna go puke now”
And I can’t honestly that I wouldn’t of at least tried to bang her if I hadn’t of really had to puke.
Life is good.
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