Fuck My Belly Button

I really hate my belly button. Oh, you thought I was offering someone to fuck my belly button? Fuck that, you twisted bitch. I do hate my belly button, though. It looks like a half innie/half outie. Whatever the fuck that means. Check it.

That's my fucking belly button. If you're thinking "well, that's not so bad" what you don't know is I had to stand 15 feet away from the camera and do some trick photography, black magic, poor lighting shit to make my belly button look almost normal. Truth. What the fuck kind of drugs was my doctor on when he slacked off this job, anyway? I'll never know, but I'd be willing to try them. (Don't worry, I promise I won't deliver a damn baby when I'm impaired. Who does that shit to an innocent child? I know I would probably deserve it now but I definitely didn't then. Maybe this is the whole reason I'm so fucked up in the head. I'm scarred for life. Literally.) This kind of work does not belong on the résumé of a licensed professional. I actually came across a copy of his résumé a while back when I was rummaging through his office, trying to steal medication. Long story short, I got away with some cotton balls and a pair of latex gloves. Weak. Anyway, looking over his résumé, I noticed he looked pretty qualified, but when I came across his greatest weaknesses, shit got weird. By weird I mean I had an epiphany, not I took a pinky finger to the butthole. Here's what it said, no bullshit: "One of my biggest weaknesses is my inability to tie a knot in a balloon. Seriously. If you handed me a balloon, I couldn't tie it to save my life LOL! Hope this doesn't affect my job performance!". Woah, hold the fuck up, dick fingers. If you can't tie a knot in a balloon, then you obviously can't tie umbilical cords. The fuck outta here with that shit. I think if he let me tie it myself, the results would have turned out much better. "Stand back, Dr. Penishands, no one ties my umbilical cord but me." Fuck I should have been the one to tie it. I could have if I wasn't on drugs, too. Wait, what?

Being Gangsta Ain't Eazy

Pull up a chair and have a walk in the mind of Ari Hooley. That made no fucking sense. Whatevs. It's story time, bitches!

When I was just a young boy I had a crazy trip. To Walmart. No shrooms involved. My story started normal, right? Well shit is about to get real crazy real fuckin' quick. Okay. I'm at Walmart with my family. Six years old. I don't remember if this happened before or after the time I got lost at Walmart. We'll save that story for another day. I'm at Walmart and me and my family are making a quick grab for some groceries and what-the-fuck-ever they sucker you into buying. And we all know about Walmart. They have that place laid out! They pull some real slick shit. If you wanna buy electronics, they send your ass all the way to the back of the store. Why? Because you have money if you're shopping for electronics! After you get your gadgets, you have to walk through a bunch of other shit to get out of the store. Here's where they turn you into a sucker. Even if you completely avoid the food on your way out, you still have to walk through clothes to leave. And look out for the shiny jewelry! When you get to the check out, they have delicious candy and maybe a few stupid magazines for you to read. Before you know it, you not only bought a new iPod, but you're also leaving with a new pair of slippers, six dildos, a jumbo jar of peanut butter, some pop rocks, and the latest issue of Better Homes and Gardens. Back to my story. We're making a quick trip to Walmart and I am getting some strange looks from people. One motherfucker, two motherfuckers, three motherfuckers give me a strange look. The first two were pushing their luck, looking at me like I came to the wrong place. The third dude didn't know what was coming. He gave me that look like my pants were on backwards or some stupid crazy shit. So I walked over and said "Hey bub, you got a fuckin' problem? Come on, step up and make my day you old bastard". He didn't budge. He just sat there, paralyzed from the waist down, in his power scooter. Like a mothafucka should! His wife wasn't having any of this shit. She said "get out of here you damn hooligan!". I took one look at this lady and said "fuck you, grandma! I do what I want!". I picked up a tomato and punted it at the bitch's jaw, sending her dentures into the next aisle. Then like a smooth criminal, I booked it out of the store, never to be seen again. Just kidding. Jay fucking Kay. I didn't really threaten or hit any old people. But when I did leave the store with a new pair of slippers, 6 dildos, a jumbo jar of peanut butter, some pop rocks, and the latest issue of Better Homes and Gardens, I noticed one thing: my pants were on backwards! Mother.. FUCKER!

Top Secret Sauce

Alright, check it out motherfuckers.

Woah, what is that stuff? Some kind of alien pussy juice? How do you make it? Well I'll fucking tell you, so let's get to it. This shit is called ketchup et la moutarde, or as us Americans might call it, "ketchup & mustard". The recipe calls for a bottle of ketchup and a bottle of mustard. First, what you wanna do is squeeze some ketchup on top of some mustard. Another way to do this is to squeeze some mustard on top of some ketchup. I like the 2nd method, but it's really up to you. Either way, the ketchup and mustard are combined. Generally, I put a 2 parts ketchup to 1 parts mustard ratio. If you're a mustard kinda guy, I highly recommend a 50:50 ketchup to mustard ratio.
Now, the tricky part. Get a spoon or fork and.. mix the fuck out of it. The sauce should come out a beautiful orange color. All done.
If it's too red or too yellow, you fucked up the recipe and you should probably stick to microwaving frozen tv dinners and crying yourself to sleep.
Now, I know some of you assholes don't understand the point of preparing ketchup and mustard in this fashion, but that's because you're not as fucking awesome or creative as I am. Once you've tried the new ketchup/mustard mixture, you won't be going back to your old ways. Enjoy.

Shower Power

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