Right into the f*cking wall.
But...just like my little erect wiggly tends to do...
...I'm getting ahead of myself.
Let me explain...
It's that time of year again, folks.
The birds appear.
Finally returning to roost from their wintry vacation...
...fresh and anew...
...waking me up WAY to f*cking early with ALL THAT GODDAMN CHIRPING!!
STOP CHIRPING!!! STOP F*CKING CHIRPING!!
I'LL KILL YOU...I'LL KILL YOU ALL YOU HATEFUL F*CKING BIRDS!!!
Where was I?
When I'm able to finally take my goddamn Christmas lights down, which have been buried under a blanket of three feet of snow since the beginning of December.
That magical time of year when girls finally release their bosoms into the bright sunlight...
...causing my wife to say:
"Seriously? Why don't you take a f*cking picture. Do you need to stare like that with me standing right next to you, you f*cking asshole?"
It's quite magical.
It's also the time of year when I start thinking about breaking out my motorcycle.
Because, you know...almost dying by way of fruit and having an insect crawl into my skull just wasn't fun enough.
I've been thinking about buying a new motorcycle lately.
I can't really afford it, but the only thing I've really sprung on for myself were four months of penis enlargement pills, so I think I'm due for a big purchase.
On a related note, Mr. Wiggly's allergic reaction to these pills is finally clearing up, and the doctors say that the growth of a third testicle is only temporary.
Look out, ladies!!
But I digress...
I've had pretty good luck with my motorcycle purchases over the years...
...except for one time.
I was about 19 years old, I think, and had an old Honda.
At the time, crotch-rockets (a term related to fast Japanese bikes, and not the painful seepage coming from my penis thanks to those f*cking pills) were all the rage.
I, myself, was partial to the Katana.
A sleek, testosterone-magnifying, speed-limit-blurring, Harley-rider-hatred-inducing, chick f*cking magnet.
My buddy Eric had come by the house with his Harley, and I talked to him about going to buy a Katana.
We decided, hey....what better time than the present?
Let's GO GET ONE RIGHT NOW!!
I was psyched. I'd committed to the idea.
Rice-burning big-haired glam-music-loving harlots, here I come!!
We hopped on our bikes that were parked in my driveway, and fired them up.
As I started to turn my motorcycle around, I excitedly screamed out:
"Let's go get me a Katana!!"
The adrenaline surged as I thought of my new rocket.
...the actual process of turning the bike at such a tight angle made my right wrist bend...
...revving the engine.
It's at this exact moment that my left hand conveniently slipped off the f*cking clutch.
Engine screaming, I immediately popped a wheelie...
...and drove straight into a stone retaining wall...
...at 20 miles an hour.
The bike then continued driving up the retaining wall, with me still holding onto the handle bars, feet planted on the ground.
It was wall-crawling...almost like it was a Spidey-bike!
Had I been dressed in my superhero leotard, this probably would have looked really cool.
But I wasn't...I didn't dress like that until later that evening.
Somehow, the motorcycle drove UP THE WALL about two feet like I was performing some type of carnival trick...
...and landed on top of me.
Laying on the ground...bike laying next to me still running...
...I looked up at Eric:
"Maybe I shouldn't buy the Katana."
Good idea, you stupid, stupid f*cksh*t.
I lay back down on the ground...woozy...
...a bunch of little cartoon birdies circling my head.
Of course...they were chirping.
WHY ARE THEY CHIRPING?!?!?
MOTHER OF GOD...MAKE THEM STOP!!!
I won't be getting a Katana any time soon.
I'll be getting a Harley.
I'm just no longer making that declaration while sitting on a motorcycle...
..unless they make a Spidey Bike.
That would be COOL.
If you want to read about my OTHER motorcycle misadventures, click here.
Monday, April 21, 2008