there is a photo that’s circulating of me in a tuxedo doing something to my, um, crotch.
i hate that word, ‘crotch’. almost as bad as ‘groin’. ‘man being hit in groin by football’, by hans moleman. it should’ve won the springfield film festival. homer should’ve trusted his instincts. it did work on so many different levels.
so in the aforementioned photo what i’m actually doing is using a sharpie (a black magic marker, you know, like the santana song, “”gotta black magic marker””) to cover up a toothpaste stain on my tuxedo. and good old intrepid damian was there to capture the moment (as he often is, the fucker). nothing lascivious going on in the photo, just me using a black magic marker to make my tuxedo look more presentable.
cos even though it was in fact a toothpaste stain it looked a lot like i had, uh, well, you know.
and i hadn’t. it was toothpaste. from my suitcase. ginger/tea tree oil toothpaste.
only for the strong of heart. i love ginger. i put it in just about everything. i make these drinks (carrot juice/orange juice/strawberries cayenne pepper/ginger/spirulina) that will peel the paint from a tank. but they keep me healthy.
ginger=friend. except when it’s in toothpaste that has stained your tuxedo.
i wonder if the scientists who invented the interweb could have foreseen it’s use in such vital and sophisticated was as i’ve employed in this update?
scientist 1: ‘we have created a way in which intellectuals at our nations universities can exchange ideas and theories and thus lead to the betterment of humanity’
scientist 2: ‘and we have created a way in which geeks will be able to explain toothpaste stains on their pants to thousands and thousands of people’
-moby
