Ok folks, I have been the most degenerate blogger on this side of the Mississippi as of late, and just at a time when my readership has gone from 12 to 18 – a 50% jump for those of you doing the math at home. Well in not one, but two acts of retribution I will be posting every day for the next week. I have been writing ideas as they have come to me and there are a plethora of blogger topics. And secondly, I am in negotiations to secure my first guest-blogger. Now I don’t want to jinx this because this could be an acquisition bigger than the A-Rod and Santana
contracts COMBINED. I will keep you updated.
So like me, over the past weeks I am sure the same question has been chipping away at your psyche, your very inner core. If some of your organs had cell phones and your cell number what would they be texting you? Now I know you are thinking – “DP, why wouldn’t they call?” My answer- come on lets be realistic and not get carried away." Well this conundrum could not remain buried in the inner workings of my insanity anymore, so I have decided to do us all a favor and do a little piece about it, and as a side effect you might actually learn that I have actually have a real college degree in biology and know a little about the human body…
Kidneys (they filter the blood) – “Drink more water dumbass. 3 liters a day? You are lucky if you get 1 liter. An no, Red Bull, Coffee, and Beer don’t count because they have water in them”
Heart (if you don’t know what heart does stop reading this because you are dumber than I) – “You need to get more aerobic exercise that is not simply playing Wii. Although Wii is the only way for nerds to develop muscles try going for a walk.”
Lungs (in, then out, then repeat 8 trillion times) – “You don’t smoke, except the occasionally cigar which is not too bad. So we have no beef right now. However, the liver is going to fucking kill you.”
Brain (I like to think of it like a miniature golf course) – “Orange tennis balls, Nutter Butter cookies, Papa Smurf, Legos, Reruns of Saved by the Bell….” – having read more than one blog do you think I actually have any real intelligent brain activity??? Writing this blog already gives me a headache.
Stomach (the workhorse of my body) – “Seriously, you try and eat healthy all week and we are making some real progress, then you go an dump two milkshakes, a double cheeseburger, and two orders of fries in me??? And no less at 4:12AM. What a jerk!”
Small Intestine (where most of your food is absorbed) – “I hate you. No, I am not just saying that. I really hate you. All I get is the junk you eat, and you expect to be in good shape. Think again dipshit. I love fried chicken as much as the next body part, but who the hell eats it for breakfast???”
Pancreas – “Blah Blah Blah Blah” If you aren’t a doctor/biology major no one knows what the pancreas does…
Liver (filters all the toxins out of your body) – I saved the best for last) – “I fucking quit. I can’t do this shit anymore. Alcohol is good for you, but Jesus Christ – you have to be the drunkest motherfucker I have ever seen. You know what day I like best. Mondays. Yea I said Mondays – the day everyone hates. Monday is the only break I get during the week when you aren’t throwing back some kind of whiskey or beer. Hell, I would even settle a light beer now and then. Because we have had such a long standing relationship, I have crafted a letter, because who breaks up over text message…
Dear Drunken Polar Bear,
We certainly have had some good times. And by we, I mean you, you jackass. As your liver I understand that I am supposed to clean out the toxins from your body, and expected that alcohol would be one of them, but my god son – you have a drinking problem. When you discovered booze in high school it was kinda like stretching my muscles, but your freshman year in college got me working overtime. I thought when you graduated college I might get a little bit of a break. Apparently, you disagreed and your binge drinking has continued. Although you never tried to sell a piece of me on the black market in Eastern Europe, I am packing it in. At this pace you are going to kill me with cirrhosis in a year or two. So…
Fuck it, I’m out
Your liver
Brrr...Beer
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