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Man, whatever

Ate a lot of bread. I don't feel great, but I'll probably shovel some more shit down my throat before I go to bed. I guess compulsive eating is still better than pissing your pants blackout drunk on the A train to Rockaway Beach. Jah feel?

[insert the lyrics to Smooth by Rob Thomas feat. Carlos Santana]

Oh great, someone farted and clearly had a baguette last night. smdh

Nobody knows what’s inside. Can you keep a secret?

It's your asshole, Jerry!

Your honor, this case is a sham and you are a piece of leather beneath a hot stamp.

I took a submarine down under the sea last night. Got to see all the electric eels. There are only three, and they are all named Ernie.

Ernie rhymes with gurney, which is what your body will eventually be strapped to after your passing. Something to think about, really. Guess what, that wasn't written by AI. Woof, daddy.

Went on a date. it was fine but not fireworks

Come on, man. This "art" thing is starting to wear me down. Can someone just give me a job or become a benefactor for me to make shit. This podcast doesn't make money (because it doesn't exist), but if you do, please send it to me. Ok, now that we've gotten that out of the way- here's the good stuff:

8==👊=)💦

😓

"If You're Gone" is a song by American rock band Matchbox Twenty. The song, written by the band's frontman Rob Thomas, was released on September 18, 2000, as the second single from their second album, Mad Season (2000). It reached number five on the US Billboard Hot 100 chart, becoming the band's second best-ranking song on the chart, and also became a hit on adult contemporary radio, spending two weeks at number one on the Billboard Hot Adult Contemporary Tracks chart.

A minuscule amount of fun was had by two people. The other three died. Shame shame shame.

I think I'm just one banana peel away from covering my entire floor with banana peels. Imagine coming over and you're just like "what the hell are these banana peels doing cover the entire floor? I can't walk in here!" and then I come out dressed as a whole ass barrel of monkeys. I'd probably slip on the way there. Whatever, I'm going for it. Will you donate a peel to the cause?

Oh man. The problem with this podcast is that I have to keep the window open so the smoke cna go outside. And now it's cold. Brrrrrr. Ice cream man, you could be my best friend if you'd let me drive your truck. Choo Choo! Sometimes it's hard to tell if this is a podcast or autism.

I shit my pants today. It sucked.

If you so much as smell that Gatorade in the fridge, I'm going to be furious. That's my special Gatorade and how it came to be such:

I thought I might have sex- why, you ask? Well, I had no reason, really. Other than the wind. Which speaks to me in whispers upon gusts of pigeon coos. Regardless, I wanted to prepare for what laid ahead. I stopped at the grocery store. Upon entry, I not only grabbed rubbers, but a yellow Gatorade and a packet of hydration powder. That way, I wouldn't lose my electrolytes while making sweet sweet love.

When I arrived at the bar, I realized something that had been staring at me like a ten mile glazed donut. I spent all my money on the Gatorade. Balls!

I asked around, and a pear-shaped woman using a living scorpion as a hairpin, spotted me a 5 dollar bill. Crisp. Clean. I handed over the bank note to the barkeep and confidently uttered, "a beer for the brunette with boobs at the end of the bar."

"Cheapest beer we got is 7 dollars."

"Drats"

I handed the 5 back to the nice lady at the bar, who folded it back in my hands and said, "get yourself something nice, sweetie."

I bought a single hit of heroin from the man down the street on my way back home. Somewhere between the nod out in Washington Square Park and the coming to with my head in the freezer, I had mixed the electrolyte packet and Gatorade together in a glorious mix of hydration. Impressed with my foresight, I put the potion into the cold box for the morning- and guess who just finished heroin puking.

In all seriousness. Like all jokes aside. There was a moment in this where I got scared by the Fibonacci Sequence.

"Scream for your friend!"

The words were as stale as the crust on the back tag of his underwear. He was about 41 at the time. Limber, but aged like the old oak that his dad built a treehouse in back when Paul was 13. Oh, Paul. Whatever happened to Paul????

Omfg!!!! I got Liz Phair to do the pod!!!!

If cows could milk themselves... man, we'd probably never see them again.

Yeah man, this shit. This shit right here is the bees’ mothetfucking knees. I don’t think bees actually have knees. Makes you wonder.

Shit, the horsies got through the damn barn door, again. I thought I locked it tighter last night. Well, I'll be a horsie's ass if I do that again. Aw man, the chickens are fartin' out a butt storm. I shouldn't have done this farm Airbnb.

Ok, I got into a fight with my cat, Zenon, while she was ripping up paper on my desk. My other cat, Philly, walked in at some point. I hit the transcribe button and this is what happened:

stop that. Hey Zenon stop Z put it down you're looking at me like you're gonna do something Zenon. Stop hey hey hey stop hey hey get down hey oh Philly what's up dude's Zenon come here get in the chair and stop ripping shit up come on come on come on sweetie. I love you. ZZBDV come on baby. Good girl no no no stop that. Hey, what's up calendar are you kidding me stop it get on the chair. I love you.

Man, I am fucking bummed. But that doesn't stop the brittle from brattle- you know what I mean? I'm talking soft cats and pretzels of the also soft nature. Can you dig it??? It's been DUG!!!!

Here we are, at the precipice of collapse. All seems lost, but rest assured- there is gold in my ass. I've put sixteen gold bars in various asses around New York City. If you can find the golden ass bar, you can trade it in for a voucher that will give you a code that allows you one (1) vending machine item, every day. That's right, exchange the bar of ass gold and you can get Doritos for free, one time, every day.

I like to think of myself as a pretty smart guy. Like I have taste and culture, and here I am naming an episode of my secret fucking podcast "PeePants: The Story of One Man's Poopy Peepee." I'm 33 years old. I should have a family. Or at least someone's family. Can I have your family? Let's make a deal, here. Come on- let me be your father. I'd be a good dad- or I think the kids would like me. Oh no, I'm becoming my mother.

Dude, sometimes I think I am a real bonehead. Other times, I think I'm a real Sasquatch.

I think you get what I'm saying.

Sometimes you gotta take it back to Bermuda. Where the grass is green, or at least, I think it probably is. I've never been to Bermuda and fuck you for trying to give me guff about it. Why I oughta... honestly, I'm gonna probably look into how to best make an incredibly buttery and heart-stopping pretzel at home. Auntie Anne's style- the big time. There actually used to be a great spot in the Delta terminal at JFK, but that was probably over 10 years ago. My, how the time flies when you're eating pretzels.

I've mistaken multiple ducks for geese, but I've never found a goose be golden*

*That being said, I am colorblind

My grandma’s finger tips! These were the last images I could recall when the morphine drip hit my veins. Let’s make the sausage, boys.

Gloves. Balls. Bats. These are all in my friend's sex dungeon. He is 13 feet tall and doesn't have many allies. But I stand by him, left, right, and center (but not center right).

There will be blood, there will be pie, there will be a lot of fun to be had at my friend's sex dungeon party! Make sure that you come in your Sunday* best! We'll have punch, we'll get drunk, and we'll all make love in my good friend's sex dungeon at his sex dungeon party!

+1s are encouraged, but please don't bring someone you just met this week (Stephen). When the sun takes a dive, we'll all cum (😉) alive! If you need my best friend's address to his sex dungeon for the sex dungeon party, don't be afraid to reach out- you've got my number, or we've matched on Bumble (Stephanie...).

This week is costume optional, but NOT clothing optional. Don't worry, we'll all be nude and lubed by the end, but you MUST show up WEARING clothes. This doesn't mean you've got a backpack with clothes but you're at the door in just your socks (Jeff...). Just so no one takes it like they did last year (Jeffanie...), I'm coming dressed as a toilet paper mummy. If anyone else shows up to the party at my close, personal friend's sex dungeon, I will have a fit!

Alright, that should just about do it! If you've gotten this letter, that means that the mail is still working- fantastic! After the nuclear fallout, I wasn't sure if this letter would find anyone! So, if you're looking for a party at my favorite person's sex dungeon (Ralph, please, for the love of god, send a medical team. We've all been down here for so long and some of us can't hold our bowels anymore (Bart (his farts now smell like electricty)...), and SOME of us are growing a third eye due to radiation poisoning (Bartette (really mean)...).

I hope to see you soon at the sex dungeon party, and honestly, the party is optional. I'd just like to see you here in my father's sex dungeon, where we will hopefully be having a party to celebrate the fact that life still exists (but god DAMN, I am so tired of banging these mutants (PETERINA!!!!!!!!).

Have a Good Summer (HAGS)

Christopher "Bernadette Peters" Robin

*Monday attire is fine if it’s form fitting

Dude, I got an insane calzone tonight. It was pretty awesome because I was able to utilize a buy 1 get 1 (BOGO) deal. Unfortunately, they did not add in the sausage I requested. Rats. Luckily, I was refunded the $4 for the cost- which is actually $2 more because of how the coupon factored in sausage to both. I also robbed a candy store but only took the sour stuff. Keep your money. Capitalism has destroyed your sweet tooth. Lockheed Martin.

Uh oh, there’s trouble in hunk town. We’ve got holes to fill!

Lightning crashes
A new mother cries
Her placenta falls to the floor
The angel opens her eyes
The confusion sets in
Before the doctor can even close the doorLightning crashes
An old mother dies
Her intentions fall to the floor
The angel closes her eyes
The confusion that was hers
Belongs now to the baby down the hallOh, now I feel it coming back again
Like a rolling thunder chasing the wind
Forces pulling from the center of the Earth again
I can feel itLightning crashes
A new mother cries
This moment she's been waiting for
The angel opens her eyes
Pale blue colored iris presents the circle
Puts the glory out to hide, hideOh, now I feel it comin' back again
Like a rollin' thunder chasing the wind
Forces pullin' from the center of the Earth again
I can feel it
I can feel itOh, why
Oh, why
Oh, whyI can feel it coming back again
Like a rolling thunder chasing the wind
Forces pulling from the center of the Earth again
I can feel it
I can feel it coming back again
Like a rolling thunder chasing the wind
Forces pulling from the center of the Earth againI can feel it
I can feel it coming back again
Like a rolling thunder chasing the wind
Forces pulling from the center of the Earth again
I can feel it
I can feel it
I can feel it

I heard the ring a ding ding and the lights went "dim"

Wheel's stuck in the mud again. Gonna be a long Summer.

Sometimes they come at night. Sometimes they come in the morning. Sometimes they don't come at all. Your parents do have a lot of sex, though.

The sticks is loose and the forest is free. What's in your wallet? I am so fucking hungry.

You sir, are a gnome to the first degree. And I'll hear no more on the matter.

This was recorded on March 4th, 2024. I was let go from my job at 3pm on March 1st and passed at the Comedy Cellar at 8pm. I was in a weird place and forgot to post it. Here you go Mr. Sucklepuff

Anyways, I am literally bitching about the same things I’m bitching about now. Don’t to phish tucked payoffs. What more is there to say.

Kiss on the cheek, kiss on the mouth, kiss on the knee, kiss on the forehead, but if you come anywhere near my ear, I'll end you.

Well, we did it. A momentous episode here at the Sesh Lab (TM). We've got frogs asking to be princes and we've got royalty asking for cake. I don't know where you're at, but when you're here- you're familia.

The weather. It’s cold. Now we’re talking about the weather. Brrrrrrrr. Ice cold. Gucci mane. He once showed up to an open mic in East Atlanta Village driving an ice cream truck, but I digress-

Pick up those crumbs. I swear to god, if you don't clean up this couch- unbelievable! Get your butt upstairs and wait until your father gets home.

"Nyuk yuk"

-The Three Stooges (one of whom's last name is 'Fine')

Crunch your nuts, eat your cheese.

Let’s get it

You think you know a guy, but then you find out he’s a tractor. What do you do?

More often than not, I find myself asking the big questions like "Where is my squatty potty, goddammit!"

I heard a story from your dad. He is PISSED. You better call your mom, it's her birthday and you're being petulant.