Another Round of Guest Bloggin'

When my favorite redneck inbred fisherman blogger Travis from I Like To Fish said he would be a guest blogger on my blog, I responded with the following email:

Travis.
Have I told you lately that you're awesome? Because you are, and I don't care WHAT those other people have been saying about you.

So I guess just write up a guest blog and email it to me and I'll pimp you for all that you're worth (and you better be woth a LOT because I don't want to have to choke a bitch)

Am I kidding?
You don't want to have to find out.

DESPITE this email, he sent me his guest blog.

So let's hear it for Travis: any guy who can put up with my crap and still continue to converse with me is a national hero.
Or an idiot.
Or my husband.

And away we go...

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I always dreamed of the day I’d be on Lily’s…

…blog.

What did you think I was gonna say? Hell, her husband is a firefighter. Nuff said.

Anyfire, I have been thinking of something to post about, knowing that iffen it goes on Lily’s blog, it’s gotta be LEGIT, son.

At first, I was going to have my fish talk to her fish. But then, two of my fish, Irwin Linker and Doc, died.

It was sad times in the Sloat household, but mostly, it’s sad in the tank, because their corpses have been kind of floating there for a couple of days. I’m the world’s worst pet owner, despite what Lily says about herself. So my fish don’t want to do any talking, because, “Until you get these fuckin bodies outta here, we’re not doing SHIT.”

My fish have potty mouths.

Then I figured out that I could totally talk about stuff I CAN’T talk about on my blog, because everyone that reads mine doesn’t read hers, although they should, because she’s awesome.

Then I realized that after telling the entire internet that I have a small penis, there is very little that I WON’T bring up on my own blog. So that’s a bust.

I could repost, but according to Ed, that’s lazy and beneath any blogger ever.

The time between that last sentence and this one was about 36 hours.

Something has happened in that time, and as it turns out, the blog has been dropped in my lap.

You see, I’m a Duke Blue Devils fan.

I saw “The Shot” in 1992, and I’ve been a fan ever since.

I am a DIE HARD fan. I do not take shit talking lightly.

So when I get a text from my uncle yesterday that said, “Duke sux.” I pointed out in a language free way that they were ahead of UNC in the rankings.

Keeping it polite at first, right? I mean, no need to get rude. Yet.

Then I got this message back.

“Season rankings don’t matter, they’ll choke in the tourney.”

So I sent back,

“That’s better than what UNC will do, which is take it up the ass.”

What? Don’t judge me. I was classy the first time, and really, I shouldn’t have been.

Here’s what I didn’t realize.

You see, on the other end of that phone was NOT my forty some-odd year old uncle.

It was his 10-year-old son.

Yeah.

I just kind of explained the facts of life to my 10-year-old cousin.

I can just hear the conversation that took place after this message was read.

“Daddy, what does taking it up the ass mean? And why is UNC going to do it?”

To my surprise, I haven’t heard much back on this, and I imagine I won’t for a couple of days, because they’ll probably be spending that time trying to explain to their child what “taking it up the ass” means.

Is there a moral here?

Absolutely.

Don’t give your child a cell phone and tell them to talk shit about Duke to a Duke fan. Otherwise, your son will think anal sex is the way babies are made for the rest of his life.

Holy shit.

What if we could convince WOMEN of that?!

I’m onto something here, fellas. I’ll let you know what I find out.

Stay up, Lily’s homies.

Come see me sometime.

Unless, of course, you are a UNC fan.

In that case, why don’t you get a head start on the ass taking?