Original post date - Thursday, June 30, 2005
More Random Thoughts

Yes, folks, it's that time again. It's time once more to delve into the scariest of places...the uncharted territory that is the mind of Woody. I am here in hell, or as it's more commonly known, outside of The Breakers in Palm Beach. As per the good people at weather.com, it's currently 87 degrees outside, but it feels like 95. I don't know guys, it feels to me like's it's 10 degrees hotter than Satan's ass crack, but, hey, I'm no meterologist. Once again, my balls are so deep in sweat they need water wings. I'm going to attach a bouy to my wang to make sure I don't lose it in that Mediterranian Sea of ball sweat I got going on down there. But I digress...enough about my nether regions.
HEALTHY DIET
Today started as any other...my friend PJ called me at 7:00am and woke me up. I tried to be mad at her except she is an ex-girlfriend who knows all my secret buttons to push to get her out of any trouble. I swear, she could close a bear trap on my nut bag and make me listen to Hansen for 3 hours and I'd forgive her. I hate this magic power she holds over me. I went back to sleep and woke up around noon. I was hungry but out of pork products. What's worse, the eggs were dwindling. Damn, I need to shop soon. I decide to make plain fried egg sandwiches, cholesterol be damned, and use up all the eggs. I put a unhealthy dallop of margerine in the pan, then toss 3 eggs in and cooked them sunny-side up. Then I took 4 pieces of toast and slathered margerine all over tham, then upon my toast I placed the eggs dripping in faux butter. To top it all off, I added a little ketchup for color and tons of salt and proceeded to destroy my two fried egg sandwiches in about 5 minutes. What's the world record for "youngest death by heart attack?" I'm gonna break it. You hear me Guiness?
AUTO-EROTIC VOYEURISM
Ok, I know I said previously "enough about my nether regions" but... My shower curtain fell down while I was showering today and it scarred the hell out of me. There I am, having a nice relaxing shower, listening to the Stones greatest hits (I have a cd player in my bathroom), when, WHOOM! down it fell. Fucking startled the shit out of me. There I was soaping up the shampoo in my hair to a nice lather and I'm treated to sudden shock. I slipped and almost fell on my ass and I got soap in my eyes that burned like lemon juice and acid. You know, it's actually kind of like a little flasher or streaker running through your bathroom. I mean, there you are, doing something as mundane as showering, and all of a sudden, the curtain drops and it's showtime! You're staring at a naked ass in the semi-fogged mirror. It's a good thing I have a sense of humor or I might have been offended by the nudity. Actually, I'm kinda sexy.
WOODY CURSES SELECTIVELY
I had this brought to my attention today by my good friend Lumpy, who lives in Maine. I left him a message the other day because I had been trying to get in touch with him for a few days and was not getting a call back. The message that did prompt a response went like this:BEEP. Lumpy, what the fuck? Who's fucking dick to I have to suck to get a fucking call back around here? What, am I not fucking good enough for you to deserve a fucking call back? What the fuck!?! Crap!!!Then I hung up. The point that was brought to my attention when I got a call back today (see, cursing works), is that I lay down that vicious, F-bomb laced message, and I top it all off with "crap." Not "shit" or another "fuck," but a more mild, and kinder, gentler "crap." Why take the high road after just dropping 6 F-bombs in the span of just 20 seconds? The answer, folks, is just another of natures great mysteries. I guess I like "crap" better than "shit." Everyone says "shit" but only a select few people use the word "crap." The only time I use the word "shit" anymore is in conjunction with "horse," as in "Horseshit!!" Yeah, now that has panache!
WOODY CAN'T SPELL
Here's something I just learned that knocked me down a few notches on the intelligence food chain. Apparently, I've been spelling the word "surprise" incorrectly for years. Go ahead and check my previous blogs. Surprise. Not a difficult word to spell, and I'm admittidly not a grammatical genius. But crap! How could I spell that word wrong for so long? I was spelling it "suprise." The way I figured it out was, last night I sat down to try and do some writing after a few beers, and I just kept saying it to myself. Soup-rize. Sur-prize. Soup-rize. Sur-prize. Fuck. Which one is correct?! Finally, I use spell-check (yeah, I know. Hey, I already said I wasn't a genius! Lay off!) and there it is. Well, fuck me gently. I've been spelling it wrong all this time, huh? Oh well. It was a suprise to me.
WOODY IS ON HIS SOAPBOX
Well, it's Thursday, and I don't have to work tomorrow. What's more, it's the beginning of a holiday weekend...the 4th of July. That historically significant date signifies our declaration of independence from the opressive English monarch that ruled with an iron fist of injustice. Yes, why should we send taxes to rich Brittish white men who won't allow women and people of color any basic human rights, when we have American rich white men who can do that for us! And although we are inundated with gobs of patriotic mishmash from all angles and sources of media, isn't the 4th of July just a good excuse for a day off work, to throw a barbecue, get drunk and watch stuff blow up? Then again, aren't those the things that America was founded on? After all, that's what they wanted four score and seven years ago, wasn't it? Our fore-fathers faught for their right to party and they got it. Who am I to question that?
Happy Jorth of Fuly! Have a beeron mee! And God dress Aberica!!!
(Holy crap I'm drunk!)