Blogging Like I've Never Blogged Before

Sunday, March 09, 2003

I'm blogging. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I guess it's like a diary. Here goes.

Dear Diary, I think I might be pregnant. Billy Walker (captain of the football team!) told me I couldn't get pregnant if I smeared peanut butter all over my body after we did it (sex), but now I'm not so sure that worked. Maybe I shouldn't have used the chunky kind.

Boys Before Books!

Ok, the diary thing is a bad idea, especially because I've never had sex with the captain of any football teams, I'm a guy, I'm not in high school, and as far as I know, I'm not pregnant.

I guess I'll just talk about vomit.

The other day I saw pigeons eating vomit that was left on the sidewalk by someone. The ill person who couldn't make it to a bathroom in time* must have had some vegetable soup before they got sick because the pigeons were gnawing on some carrots. It was pretty nasty looking, but I think that despite the fact that it was encrusted in vomit, that carrot was probably the healthiest thing a pigeon could find on a New York City street.

*Ok, this person who threw up... they couldn't make it to a bathroom, which is fine, because it's almost impossible to find a place that will let you use their restroom in the city, but they didn't even have the courtesy to puke in the street or next to a wall. It was a nice big exhibition right in the middle of the sidewalk. Maybe it was some kind of performance art.

There is something really amusing about people who vomit in the subway. It really can knock your self confidence down a few pegs. Even the rats stop to look at you, like, "Dude, that's fucking nasty." The best part about Subway Vomiters is that they were usually out for a big night on the town looking for love, but now their night has culminated in expunging 40 dollars worth of liquor, a piece of 3:00 in the morning pizza, and bile over the platform onto the tracks, hoping the train doesn't come and knock their head off. Or in some cases, hoping the train gets there real fast and knocks their head off. So no matter how good they looked at 9:00 PM the night before standing in front of their mirror, thinking, "I look awesome! Tonight will be one of the best nights of my life because my ass looks great in these new jeans!", they are now just a puker at the end of the platform wearing some fancy clothes. The subway is quite possibly the worst place to vomit because you've got nothing working in your favor. It already smells like vomit, urine and one or more of the following:

-- that homeless stank
-- poo
-- bacon
-- garbage
-- homeless bacon wrapped in poo

My sister once vomited in a taxi. That's really sad and very funny on many levels. Well, not many intellectual levels, but levels nonetheless. It's funny for me, incredibly sad for the cab driver and funny and sad for my sister. So the next time you get a cab, you might be sitting on remnants of beer, some kind of girly liquor and my sister's DNA.

I guess I'm done with vomit for now.

So that was my first blog. I hope it was entertaining. In the future, I will try to discuss more than bodily functions.

Uh oh. I think I just felt a kick.

Peace oot.
All material © Mike Toole; 2003 - 2006