Bowl hit breakfast takes the edge off mediocrity as i squeeze my tits together when i buy a newport loosy from the bodega but the arab doesn’t notice, doesn’t notice me, no one notices me as i prowl the streets hunting for half smoked cigarette butts, the occasional joint roach or tiny drug baggies filled with coke, molly or heroin residue. On cropsey avenue a bicyclist gets hit by a garbage truck and it takes a lot of effort not to get a hard-on as i watch their twitching body lying in a wet red pool as a bunch of old russian guys film the whole thing with their smart phones, 2 hours later the ambulance comes and both EMT’s have cheetos dust and bagel crumbs all over their hero costumes. The fat garbage man who was driving the truck is saying, “i dindu nuttin” to an equally bloated cop whose bulging pelvis is barely contained in his own hero costume and his pants zipper is open and there’s dried cum and piss stains all over the crotch.     

Post coital regret is the number one cause of 98% of all shemale prostitutes getting beat up. Post coital regret is usually when i write my best autopsy reports. Shakespeare wrote huck finn after post coital regret. Alien jews built the pyramids after post coital regret. Karl Bischoff designed auschwitz after PCR. The list goes on and on. Shameful, regretful orgasms are a hallmark of modern masculinity, just like building a hotrod or killing gooks and hadjis with your bare hands.

Please come to my house. I will order you the most luxurious pizza. We can watch T V on my H I  D E F. We can praise Jesus together. We can download and watch all the Brazilian lesbian face farting porn you want. I’ll dance for you, clean or dirty style. We can both root root root for the home team while doing lines of my grandmas crushed up Darvocet. I can put Lidocaine patches on your tits so it won’t hurt when i put my cigarette out on them. You can piss all over me, strangle me to death and then throw my dead body out the window so it looks like a suicide. I can do your taxes and increase your tax return by at least 23%. I can tie you off and pump so much H into the one good vein you have and you’ll float up to the sky and it’ll feel soooooo goooooooood. We can laugh together and i can give you a special tuna fish sandwich and then you’ll pass out and wake up 14 hours later with a severe prolapsed anus and a stomach full of my uncle Gerry’s semen. I’ll roll out the red carpet and even vacuum it for you or i’ll put down some newspaper and shit all over it like the disgusting domesticated primate i am. We’ll eat all the candy forever and never get diabetes or heart disease and we’ll be beautiful no matter what society sez but we can’t do anything until you come over.      

the McDonald’s mating dance ritual is when you go to McDonald’s and like a predator, like a hound toothed sexual predator, you scope out the trashiest, thickest assed milf you can find, preferably one wearing spandex pants that are so tight you can see the color and shape of her panties. Once you’ve identified her, approach cautiously and walk around her in a counterclockwise fashion (but always mindful that you’re facing mecca) with your hands on your hips (think: fat flamboyant but sassy gay black guy). Walk around her in a circle like this for 5 minutes. If she hasn’t called the police yet, go behind her, drop to your knees, grab her hips and shove your face DEEP into her ass. Once your nose is firmly planted near her asshole, proceed to take deep, huge, greedy breaths of air. If she farts on your face while you’re doing this, then congrats! she has accepted you as a suitable mate. Go to the cashier and ask for the Manager, Cedric. For a nominal fee of $666 he will grant you a marriage certificate, full SNAP benefits and one complimentary session at the St. Obama Fertility Center of the People’s Republic of New York.