Splashing Water On My Face

Life presses down gently but firmly, its hands enormous and dry. I try to be strong but, you know, sometimes I buckle. Sometimes I just buckle and pout and fling my arms around like boo hoo I went to private school I deserve better! The buckling, the entitlement, I’m pretty sure it’s a genetic thing so it’s not really my fault. It’s like how I can roll my tongue and I’m morbidly obese and gay.

Anyway after a long day of Life’s firm dry enormous hands, I like to splash some water on my face. I don’t make a big thing about it, I just head to the nearest sink and make it happen. A small moment just for me. A brief, refreshing respite from the terrible pain of being alive.

But, for some reason, it makes me feel like I’m George Clooney’s penis bringing ululations of pleasure to every exploding star in every galaxy.

It makes me feel like I just “slept with” the hole in the ozone layer with George Clooney’s penis.

It makes me feel like George Clooney’s penis didn’t just walk into Mordor but instead forced [EDITOR’S NOTE: Good day, this is Josh’s editor. You never would’ve guessed he had an editor, would you? Judging from his irregular and self-indulgent work? Touché, indeed, and truth be told I am not a very good editor but I will step in from time to time when I have the choice of either a) standing by and letting him unfurl his 15,000-word ode to a certain actor/humanitarian’s “dingle dongle” or b) not doing that. I have opted for “b” but will leave you with this piece’s original closing words in a ham-handed attempt at a punchline. Ta ta!] and that’s when I headbutted the chupacabra into the volcano and high-fived Madonna’s ghost baby — back to Hell!!!

» Rating: TEN SEXY LADIES