The Flushie, AKA No Cheese!

(Original Post: February 18, 2006 - Saturday)

Alright. Tonight I went out in the Faux hawk. And I'm drunk as I type so if I make a mistake, well, you know I don't mean it. Anyway, this guy we were sitting with says, hey, seriously, What's up with the flushie? Well, I don't know what he's talking about to be honest, so I say, the what? And he says, "The Flushie." You know, when someone holds you by your legs and flushes your head down the toilet. I laughed my ass off. I've been told many things while sporting this fab do. I've been told that I'm a bad ass mother fucker, and on the other end of that I've been told that I look like Ace Ventura. I've been told that I remind people of PINK, and I've been told that I look like a dyke. But never, ever, in the history of the spike has it ever been called a Flushie. Classic. Of course that was followed by; don't get me wrong, you're still beautiful. WTF? You cannot say What's up with the flushie and follow it up with any sentence including the word beautiful. Either open your mouth wide or don't open it at all.
Tonight was a good night. And you know how we end all good nights ... McDonalds. So we go to the drive through and order a quarter pounder, no cheese. Because if you know anything about me, you know that I say, "Fuck Cheese." And P.S. Tomatoes are a condiment. That's a whole nother discussion for a whole nother time.
Anyway, you know they have the cute little screen that shows everything you order as you are ordering it. So we say no cheese and it comes up with an extra .30 cent charge for cheese. WTF? My friend says, um, I'm sorry, we said no cheese. The guy says, yeah I got it, no cheese. She says, well you are charging us for cheese on this dumb ass sign. He says, ok. So she drives around like a maniac to basically tell this guy he's a retard. Well, as soon as she gets there he radios for back up. All of a sudden this white guy appears in the window saying, "is there a problem." Yes, she says, there is a problem. We ordered a quarter pounder with no cheese, and the machine thing says we are being charged for cheese. He types a couple of minutes and says, ok. She says, am I crazy, or was it charging us for cheese. We do not want cheese. He says, you are not crazy. Which I think is probably the only phrase he knows besides, ok. Anyway, we get home and guess what. Double Cheese. Is someone fucking with me?
The wedding is still on. Swear to goodness before the year is up I will be married. Stay tuned. I talked to someone today who told me the three rules to a successful marriage. 1. Let your husband drink whenever he wants to. As long as he is not beating you, what is the problem? 2. Suck his dick good and often. 3. Swallow.
I also discovered the fountain of youth. Self Tanner. Don't tan in the sun or in a booth. That leaves you old and leathery. On the other hand, people look healthier, thinner, and younger with a tan. So self tanner is the answer. Let me know if you need some. I've purchased stock in the shit.