Flies Without a Face

Slow week here, my boss is still out recovering from a belch so violent he had to change his pants afterwards. I'm no doctor, but I think that means you've been eating too much red meat. Hey, I should have that printed up on a shirt. "I'm no doctor, but I think that means you've been eating too much red meat." That would be snazzy.

I think "smuggle" is perhaps the dumbest-sounding English word that I can think of right now. "Bloat" is pretty gross, but useful. I've never liked "chard."

Now for a message from the US Postal Service:

Through rain, sleet or driving snow, we will damage your mail. That is our pledge. Thank you.

And now we're ready for our next contestant here on Reflections of a Goocher, Ms Myra Drizzle from Upper Carpathia. How are you today, Ms—Jesus, she bit my arm! Somebody get this crazy bitch off me!

Let this be a lesson to all our readers, wear a suit made of fruit roll-ups sewn together with licorice thread at your own considerable risk. This dry cleaning bill alone is going to be insane.

Let me be the first to say that Rudy Bega would be a really funny name for a kid. Now I've just got to find a guy named Bega to marry, and some hard-up girl to be the baby farm. This might take all afternoon.

And now for another brief word from our sponsor:

Assholes everywhere agree, Crest is America's #1 toothpaste. Crest: Keep smiling, assholes.

Personally, I don't think they should put people to death just because they're ugly. What's that? They don't? Well good, I'm still against it. For now.

Hold on, looks like we're going to have to start the call-in segment of our show a little earlier than normal! Caller, you're live on Reflections of a Goocher!

Caller: Yeah, Stu, do you know where that RXL2B form that was supposed to be filed last Monday went to? I can't seem to find it in the paperwork for that file.

SU: No, I'm sorry caller! The correct answer was "Afghan Panties." I'm sorry to say you haven't won a trip to Monaco or Bedwetting for Dummies. Better luck next time!

Caller: Uh, St— *click*

Oh, looks like we lost the connection. Anyway, I'm going to make this getting out of here a reality before this last dogsled team leaves for the parking lot. Until next time, keep sending in those cookies shaped like famous composers, and I'll keep eating them. Now mush you Malamutes! Mush!

Barf Like You Mean It
Did I mention I had to break down and get a job? Yeah, turns out the New Mexican tit isn't as milky as I had assumed and they actually expect me to drag my own load here. What a bummer. But the upshot is that I'm not entirely sure what it is I do at... (11/1/04)

I Was Born to Love This Song
"You down wit OCD?" "Hold on, I'm washing my hands!" Ah yes, here we find ourselves again, another day, another Dolf Lundgren. I sit here, striking a dashing pose, young restaurateur (that means brave, right?) with a devil-may-care grimace and... (10/4/04)

To-Do List
1. Start smoking, then quit, then brag about it. I bet it's not that hard, if you set your mind to it. And you were only doing it to be a dick in the first place. 2. Finally tell that cheesedick from Time Warner that I can't afford... (8/9/04)