Blood On The Tracks

Why did I rush it? I knew the big one was long over due. My irresponsible diet of leftover macaroni and cheese has certainly hardened into some fowl beast. "I'll go to the bathroom during the next commercial", I said, "This is my favorite episode of Frasier.". With every piece of dull, high class banter my colon grew angrily impatient. As Niles delivered the final stale punchline and the moronic laugh-track set in I knew it was time. A pathetic, weakened waddle is all I can muster as I approach my porcelain destiny like a guilt ridden criminal awaiting a death sentence. What came next would be too horrid for even you're fearless narrator, Randy, to speak of. After the array of various sports equipment sized lumber had left to become some poor plumbers problem, the clean up was next. Assessing the damage is often a mundane task, erasing whichever amount of earth tone hue is left on the headquarters with the quilted ply's one is equipped with, but when suddenly a surprising vibrancy of cherry is showing itself off an infinite amount of nightmares will stampede through any imagination hastily. The repeated dabbing has subsided the flow of blood loss but it's done nothing for the sharp, haunting pains of regret. Never before in my entire lavatorial career have I felt such shame. No amount of drab, Seattle based sitcom will remedy my faults. As I return to civilization and offer my best fake laugh, I know deep inside that I'm lying to myself. "It happens to everyone..."

An apology to breakfast

Randy's been taking advantage of you. You could've done great things. Provided a needy child with strength to grow, warmed the aching stomach of the penniless. And what have I done with you? Within the churning and impassioned confines of my stomach walls I've introduced you to your nefarious cousin, Coffee. It's influence as dark morally as it's own bean, you've been strong-armed into a ugly, runny state of unfriendliness. In minutes your new, atrocious gasses are warning signs that me, and any schedule I plan on keeping will need to accommodate to whatever you mercilessly conspire.

 I can feel your angst. It burns. As I brainstorm excuses for my tardiness at the workplace, I'm wiping, wondering what could have been. I promise this weekend we can spend some time together. We can get to know each other, and when it comes time to say goodbye, you can more neatly pack your things and I'll drop you off at the pool.

Tribute To A Game Changer

Certain people in this world refuse to accept the monotony of everyday tasks we've all naively embraced. People like George Costanza. This revolutionary squatter's disregard for dignity has made me, Randy, proud to mump.

Expect more appreciation posts in the future, maybe fort-nightly.

Dump and Dumper

Randy would like to invite you to this judgement free corner of the net in which all are welcome to voice their turds. Together we can rid the shackles of this day-to-day taboo and free the browns like Abraham Lincoln freed the blacks.  Please join me in this (bowel) movement.