Dear Cruel World,
I regret that I have not posted in quite a period; I’ve been…otherwise occupied. My days have consisted of getting up round the time when the sun reaches her stunning climax in the blessed sky, brushing my teeth (usually), eating some sort of processed cheese in some form or another (I especially enjoy Kraft singles in grilled cheese with bacon, or melted generously atop tortilla chips), rushing to the bathroom to release the said cheese meal, slumping into the couch to watch any one of my many new obsessions, including, but not limited to Summer Heights High, The Tudors (note a new formula of life: Jonathan Rhys Meyers = instant boner), Entourage, Flight of the Conchords (you were right, D.Samanth, I love it) and United States of Tara. By then it’s usually time for din din and my baby mama prepares me something from her love cupboard that usually includes chicken and vegetables, but sometimes red meat and rice and salad and perhaps even potato perogies. Yum! Thanks mom, you’re the best! I usually don’t go out, so I just go back to the couch and watch more TV.
The upside to the monotony of this life is that I find extreme pleasure and thrill in the simplest of ventures. I will now tell you of my most recent expedition. I went to visit the most honorable Sh’Tayluh McCabe in the most blessed city of Philadelphia, where, apparently, it’s always sunny. As I stepped into the sexual, studio apartment with Christmas-coloured wall paneling, I did not realize that I was embarking on what would prove to be a positively clit-tingling night of African safari mischief.
The first experience of a safari nature came in the form of two youtube videos. First, we watched one that was quite possibly one of the most bizarre things of my life (and as you well know, dearest reader, I’ve seen some bizarre shit go down). I really cannot describe to you this one, so I’m just gunna post the link: http://dancefloordale.com. All I can say is that it’s so animalistic and wonderful that it felt as if I were on a sexual safari. Please, don’t shit yourself. Love the blurring of the tits. And the ejaculation animation. It’s just so me.
The second movie we watched was a bit more explicit, and a bit more literally safari-like. In fact, it’s literally a video from a safari. Check it out. Proceed with caution, D.Samanth, you’re beloved animal world is about to be turned upside down.
My question is how in Allah’s holy earth did that little buffalo bugger survive being the chew toy in a tug of war between half a dozen lionesses and two crocodiles. The world may never know.
After that video I was overcome with thirst, so I said to the room full of my youtube and mary-j. enchanted compadres, “I DEMAND to have some booze!” So immediately a Natty Boh was thrust into my svetty palm and I began a night of over-indulgent cheap beer consumption. It was a true college night, which I savored for all the sweet juices I could suckle. After hitting up “Sevs” aka 7/11 for some cherry chapstick (my lips were drier than the Sahara), we made our merry way to a party where I ran into my third African safari moment. At this jolly festival, the only other vacant gay and I found our way to each other via the universal homo magnet system and I realized upon surveying him up and down a few times that he had about 14 piercings. Nestled in his left lobe there was one of those crazy hoops that tribal elders wear through which one could probably toss a grapefruit. His was slightly smaller, but I definitely think I could have at least stuck a carrot, maybe two carrots through that shit, and I of course immediately wondered at other, more sexual possibilities. He interrupted my erotic thoughts of earlobe fucking when he abruptly mentioned, “I also have one down there,” gesturing to his nether region. Part of my insides churned in half disgust and half wow-I-need-to-see-that-and-take-a-picture-so-I-can-tell-everyone-I-finally-saw-a-prince-albert-in-person-and-posted-the-pic-as-proof-on-sherry-sherry. But alas I settled for the internal rush I got upon realizing that my safari was getting more and more exciting and dangerous by the minute.
I proceeded to get shit-faced and eat a pizza. When I plopped drunkenly onto the futon graciously prepared for me by Sh’Tayluh and his posse, I realized in my cracked state that the futon’s designs must have been custom made for an African safari brochure, because it looked like there were tribal masks and symbols adorning the fabric. I laughed in sweet satisfaction as I lay my safari spinning head down on the African futon.
Not to worry, cruel world, I came out of Africa alive and virile. The experience taught me many important life lessons, such as don’t underestimate the power of an angry water buffalo, sex is funny when weird people do it, and if you’re gunna have a piercing like that in your earlobe, I’m probably gunna try and stick my dick in it.
Hope you’re doing well in London, D.Samanth. However, I’m concerned about these British fags you speak of; do not forget your true master of butt loving, ploise.