Hi. I am back from Bermuda, but going to Charlotte tomorrow. So no more real posts until later this week, I suppose.

By the way, Bermuda is disgusting. Check this out, when you go into the ocean and then look down, you can totally see your feet. Gross. Who wants to see their own feet when they are in the ocean?

Here is the view from my hotel room, which made me want to vomit every time I looked at it. Hideous.



Here is the ocean that I was talking about where you could see your feet. Look, you can even see a foot coming out of the water.




And here is a toad taking a piss.

So hey, my computer has been fixed, so that's nice. Still lost all of my files, but got a cheap new hard drive (I know a guy).

But before you think I'll be blogging on a regular basis, think again motherchuckers. I am about to embark on a two week long vacation that will bring me to Santa Barbara, Calif., then to Bermuda (it's in the ocean), and then to Charlotte, North Cackalacka for the Fourth of July where I will burn my hands off with sparklers. I am calling it the Mike Toole Gets Skin Cancer World Tour. It is to promote my new album, Jetlagged as Shit!

So I recently joined a gym. And even more recently, I started going to the gym. I go after work in the morning (I work the o-night, remember?), so it's nice that there aren't that many people there. But there is this one dude who I seem to be on a similar schedule with. He is the kind of guy that looks like he throws elephants for a living, and when he works out he sounds like he is shitting lava. So he's huge and loud. He will also talk to himself when trying to lift the entire gym. He'll be like, "Come on! Yeah! Grrr!!!!!!"

The other day I heard him from across the gym, and I heard him say, "What do you want for breakfast?" I was so excited because he was actually talking to his muscles! But then I realized he was on his cell phone asking someone what they actually wanted for breakfast. Not nearly as funny as I wanted it to be. But now every time I see him, I picture him standing in front of the mirror talking to his muscles about breakfast.

"What do you want for breakfast? Grrr! Need a refill on that coffee? YEAH, you DO! Roar!! Would you like fresh fruit on your French Toast for an extra dollar twenty five? Come on!"

Oh well. That's about all I have to report to you. I will see you in a few weeks. I will look something like this. I found this by Googling "sun burn". This is what happens when you try to put sunscreen on your own back. I know from experience, dude.



Luckily in California, I'll have my lady to put stuff on my back, and in Bermuda, I am bringing a gay cabana boy named Alberto with me. Grease me up!

Here is myself, gay cabana boy Alberto (see second picture for proof of gayness) and Tania. I am obviously telling a very funny story about my chest hair.



If there is one thing Alberto loves to do, it's point his fingers and stick out his tongue. Usually though, he's pointing his fingers right up your butt! I don't want to say what he does with that tongue. I apparently fell asleep after my story and was having a happy dream about being E.T.

Hey, my computer is dead. Just so you know. Very sad. Many photos, much music, all gone.

So I am watching The Price Is Right today, and this dude gets to play PLINKO. (What is the AP Style on PLINKO? Is it all caps, or is it Plinko? I think it's PLINKO.) And he wins all five chips. Dude can make some serious scratch, right? Well, he lands four out of the five in the zero slots. Major bummer. As he walks down the stairs all dejected, Bob Barker tries to console him and says, "You know, one time, there was a woman who got all five chips, and all five landed in zero." Then he says, very quickly, "She shot herself in the parking lot, very sad."

How can a man that old be that funny? Most old people don't have senses of humor like that. He is fantastic. When I get that old, I would like to be like him - carrying around a skinny microphone, have a big old head of hair, telling people to spin a big wheel, getting sued for sexual harassment, and everything else the guy does.

And I would like to thank Bill and his wife for thinking of me while they were on vacation. And damn right that airport should be named after Bob Barker. The whole state of California should be named after him. BobBarkerfornia. Sounds good to me.

Go here to see an amazing PLINKO Halloween costume.

Hi. My computer at home is on the schlitz, so my blogging might be even more sporadic than usual. I am doing this illegally from work. Shh. I should know if my computer is dead or not tomorrow.

Before I go, I would like to thank President Bush for bringing the gay marriage ban amendment back to the forefront of American politics. With more and more Americans and Iraqi citizens dying in Iraq every day, a recession looming, gas prices over 3 bucks, global warming getting all up in our shit, the majority of New Orleans still a wasteland, even with all of this going on, the greatest threat to me is a lady marrying a lady.

Why do people care about this so much? Does it really threaten your way of life if gay people marry each other? This is ugly and is all in the name of God, which doesn't really help the president when he says the war on terror isn't a holy war. I know I am kind of mixing topics here, but this doesn't help when he's all "God bless this, and Jesus made me president."

But whatever, I guess he is right. When children study the constitution, it is important for them to see that right up there with the freedom of speech is an amendment saying that gay people don't have a right to get married, cheat on each other, blame it on the children and get divorced.

And as we all know, God hates fags, so it's cool. Good luck with all of this, President Retard W. Dickwad!



As a side note and for your enjoyment, here is one of my favorite lines I've ever had on my blog:

Whenever someone talks to me about God, I'm like, "Oh yeah, I heard of that guy. Hates fags, right?"

Please pardon our dust while we build you a bigger, better Jesus.