Blowing My Fuse

How the hell do people rascal up all sorts of candles, wick saucers, and matches whenever their fucking lights go out? I don't get it. Everytime the fuse box is on the fritz people start pullin' wax up the ying yang outta the woodwork. WHO THE FUCK even knows where all their powerful candles are in the house? That shit is probably packed away in the attic somewhere behind your mom's black wedding dress, and dad's clarinet from 5th grade band practice...Fucking pack rat...

But for some strange reason instead of sitting there quietly in the dark while the electric company does everything humanly possible to fix the black out, people choose to walk around a pitch black house with a burning candle bumping into things and demanding that their loved ones "stay close"...My dad used to say "stay close Matt, stay close" whenever he was lurking around the house with a candle during an outage. I remember thinking to myself "Go fuck yourself pops, I don't trust you with that thing...You're walking around with handheld fire in a pitch black fucking house tripping over everything in sight and bumping into me...I don't want the lights to come on all of a sudden and have everyone staring at the base of my forehead...Where my eyebrows USED TO BE...

And the next day this question comes about like fucking clock work: "Did you guys lose power last night?" It's the only thing that anyone is goddamn interested in. Kids at school, parents at work, junkies in a dumpster...Everyone is asking this question. It's almost as if it's a competition...Like if your family didn't lose power then you guys have no idea just how much of a bitch life can be...And then if everyone seems to have lost it, it comes down to a straight up pissing contest: "How long was yours out for?...only 4 hours? Oh man, ours was out for about 9...Beat that!

"Hey Matt, did your family lose power?"..."Yea we sure did"..."Well you sure don't seem that mad about it...But then again maybe you are. It's hard to tell with no eyebrows"...

Fuck all ya'll muh'fuckas...

My Thumb Guilt Trips The Shit Out Of Me

Ever been beatin' it and you look down at your hand only to see your fingers and palm wrapped around your junk, doin' their job, but your thumb is pointing right back at you, making you feel stricken with guilt? It's just literally thumbing around looking for a ride outta friction town. It sure looks like one fucking rebellious digit motioning for a revolution, while all the other fingers are "brain"washed slaves to my shlong. He just sits up there watching everyone else do the work, like those a-hole steel mill managers who sit 70 feet above everyone else and oversee their fellow miners, but their only real job is to ring the lunch bell, and say things like "What's everybody lookin' at? Get back to work!".

I'm just real tired of the guilt trip I'm gettin', even though I treat him so well. After every jerk I make sure to crack the thumb knuckle. Everyone knows that's the best feeling in the world. For a good 5 minutes your thumbs been stiff as a fucking board and that crack is just about the greatest thing ever.

Call me fucking bananas, but I can't take it anymore. I gotta start angling my hand when I crank my bird so that my thumb is pointing away from me to my right as if I'm tellin someone to "Hit the road, Jack".