Okay, so I'm drunk and I have Jen's login and she has implored me to post in a drunkenly manner on her blog. Maybe implored is too strong a word. Implied, perhaps. Implicitly. Implanted.

Dude, if there's anyone out there that wants a breast implant, I'll gladly sell some of mine. I fear I have too much breast. Can you donate breasts to science? Do they need to do important breast research? I'm not just talking about Rick James here. He may be super freaky, but dammit, science might need these nipples.

Speaking of nipples, what's with people piercing theirs? It seems as though I'm surrounded by a bevvy of nipple piercers. People! Stop poking holes in perfectly good aeriolas! The last thing we need are doorknockers hanging from your man boobs! I don't care how sexy it makes you feel, it looks absolutely ridiculous! As if the penis wasn't enough, now you want to attach hardware to your body and have it dangling in a most precarious nature.

Observe my use of spelling and grammar even when drunk. It is both a curse, and a blessing. Unless you're talking to me in instant message, and then all the rules of engagement go out the window. You might get something like this:

Jen: Are you drunk?
Me: jrll yrd i'm ftunk. gpp;%
Jen: What?
Me: heiop! whei diou dioa! fuck.

This is due to the "Take a sip of beer, lose your spot on the home keys" syndrome.

In conclusion, I'd like to state that the use of latex condoms greatly enhances the length of one's penis and/or the sensation of lengthening one's penis. So use a condom. Because I don't want your goddamn sex cooties. Perverts.

This is my joke.

A man and a woman started to have sex in the middle of a dark forest. After about 15 minutes of it, the man finally gets up and says, "Damn, I wish I had a flashlight!". The woman says, "Me too, you've been eating grass for the past ten minutes!"

I think Piehole is growing up backwards. (Like Mork! From Ork!)*

A while back, as the proprietor of a little weblog called Diary Quotes, I thought it would be funny to find a drunk entry from every diary I read, and try to get people to vote for the best inebriated writing. I went back three years into Jennifer's archives, and could not find a single entry that she'd written while drunk.

This was fascinating to me, as most of us have at least one little post we've written while shitfaced. But not Jennifer! Oh no! She had more decorum than that. Or maybe, she was just too damn cool for that. When she got shitfaced, she did not run to the keyboard, as some of us lame-o's did.

However, as you may notice, she now advertises herself as a "Professional Drunk Blogger."

I rest my case. She is now as uncool and immature as the rest of us. WELCOME TO MEDIOCRITY, SISTER!