I'm looking around the bathroom this morning and wondering what to do with all this stuff. By all this stuff, I mean I had beers and buffalo wings yesterday. Obviously, I'd like to donate it to charity, or perhaps a museum. I don't think my friends want it, and my family probably wouldn't want it either. Maybe some of you have a crazy Uncle, but my Uncles are good guys.
How do I donate this?
It's not like I can call a farm or a fertilizer company and say," Good morning! I'm pooping my pants in 90 days, and I'd like to set up a time for you to come out after that." I'm pretty sure they'd hang up on me. Philistines.
Call me selfish, but I don't want to take the trouble to box anything up. My last days with clean trousers should not be spent finding boxes with waterproof linings. Plus, what would the CDC or al-Aksa Martyrs Brigade think if they saw this? Pretty suspicious, isn't it?
All in all, I have 88 more days to figure it out.
I can't help but think, though -what about all my boxers, spurs, assless leather chaps, belts, mint flavored condoms, socks, jeans, khakis, etc....Hell, I don't even want it all. I guess I could spread it around the house in some sort of interperative logic representative of major economic trends when I poop my pants, but I don't want to seem melodramatic. I want people to understand how serious this is. I am a unique snowflake - my suffering is individual to me alone and terrible. Nothing in life matters, and I'm so much cooler than you by rejecting clean trousers. When I do this, people are going to sit around and cry," Remember when Savage Henry had clean trousers? If only we'd have listened, and given him respect and accolades he didn't earn!" Even though I'm not emotionally honest enough to say so, that's what I want people to think. As much as I may deny it, I'm either engaged on a viral marketing campaign or trying to make people feel bad.
Hmmm...Ok. I guess the least I can do is box it up. Perhaps a three legged migrant farmer in Djibouti can buy it on E-Bay and use it for his fields or array it tastefully on his mantlepiece.
How do I donate this?
It's not like I can call a farm or a fertilizer company and say," Good morning! I'm pooping my pants in 90 days, and I'd like to set up a time for you to come out after that." I'm pretty sure they'd hang up on me. Philistines.
Call me selfish, but I don't want to take the trouble to box anything up. My last days with clean trousers should not be spent finding boxes with waterproof linings. Plus, what would the CDC or al-Aksa Martyrs Brigade think if they saw this? Pretty suspicious, isn't it?
All in all, I have 88 more days to figure it out.
I can't help but think, though -what about all my boxers, spurs, assless leather chaps, belts, mint flavored condoms, socks, jeans, khakis, etc....Hell, I don't even want it all. I guess I could spread it around the house in some sort of interperative logic representative of major economic trends when I poop my pants, but I don't want to seem melodramatic. I want people to understand how serious this is. I am a unique snowflake - my suffering is individual to me alone and terrible. Nothing in life matters, and I'm so much cooler than you by rejecting clean trousers. When I do this, people are going to sit around and cry," Remember when Savage Henry had clean trousers? If only we'd have listened, and given him respect and accolades he didn't earn!" Even though I'm not emotionally honest enough to say so, that's what I want people to think. As much as I may deny it, I'm either engaged on a viral marketing campaign or trying to make people feel bad.
Hmmm...Ok. I guess the least I can do is box it up. Perhaps a three legged migrant farmer in Djibouti can buy it on E-Bay and use it for his fields or array it tastefully on his mantlepiece.
10 comments:
Mal once said, "Don't leave the ship with your bottom parts full of recyclable energy if you can help it."
You, Savage Henry, are a genius, and pretty fucking funny at that.
As a budding Feceologist, I was wondering if you were going to try different foods or drinks to achieve a different texture or color to make even more of a statement on your monumental day.
Take Grape Gatorade for example, a gallon of it will turn your poop a bright clover green, which may not look so great in fatigues, put should contrast in a lovely manner with Khakis.
Fuck them Philistines.
This blog is a damn funny idea; make sure to keep updating. Live the dream!
- Uptown
You suck, do us all a favor and just poop your pants already. Well, it was either that or the other cliche, don't poop your pants, you have so much to live for. Have you planned your last meal?
My question is how do we as the readers know you're actually going to go through with it? you could just stop posting after 90 days and then have us assume you went ahead with the deed but thats such a cop out. I'm pretty sure you need to set up a live video feed and let us all witness the deed.
In the end I don't think you could actually bring yourself to do it. Savage Henry it is you who are full of shit, not your pants.
Dear Savage,
Since you're going to be pooping your pants anyways do you think maybe we could have some buttsex before? Or you could email me a picture of your pants at asl@booble.com
Thx!
WONT SOMEBODY PLEASE THINK OF THE CHILDREN!
NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
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