Potato Of The Day Episode 53

greenappleMaybe it’s because I’ve got Apple on the brain, or maybe it’s just because I’m in a pissy mood today and wanted to talk to someone as bitter as I am, I really don’t know. But regardless the reasoning, I hung out with my old friend Green Apple this afternoon. And dude, let me tell you, that is one cranky, tart bastard. I knew there was a reason we hadn’t hung out in a while, but I couldn’t quite remember why, the fog of time had drifted in, unsettling my reserve of dedicated memory space to my time spent with Green Apple. I wish had taken more gingko or played more of those cardboard matching games as a child, because I really could have used those memories. I really could have used a warning.

Chilling with Green Apple always starts off innocently enough. You think to yourself, oh he can’t be so bad, he’s an apple. After all, apples are sweet, delicious creatures, grown for their juice and their ability to ward off roaming packs of feral doctors (everyone knows it only takes one apple a day to keep your home safe from rabid rheumatologists). But those apples you’re picturing in your head, the ones that keep juice boxes plump, the ones that keep children satiated during snack time, the ones that vaporize intruder immunologists like the sun turning vampires to dust, those are all RED apples. They’re sure as shit not Green Apple. Green Apple ain’t here to play. He’s here to make trouble, snort cocaine, and hump bitches (definitely his words, not mine). And he’s all out of bitches and blow.

In a span of sixteen minutes, give or take an imaginary amount of enough time to make this parable of personification remotely plausible, Green Apple unleashed a horror show on everyone around us. I watched him tie a woman’s stiletto shoelaces together (I know stilettos don’t have shoe laces, but imagine if they DID), replace an old man’s glasses with two empty toilet paper rolls taped together, and trek through a freshly carpeted house wearing nothing but blood-soaked slaughterhouse boots. But that’s not even the worst. Nope. I watched that deviant sourpuss put a lit cigar in an infant child’s birthday cake like a candle, set a up a blowing box fan across the table from the child, gather the child’s family to stand around the child singing “Happy Birthday”, and proceed to tell the poor kid to blow out his candle, the result a billowing cloud of cigar smoke sent blowing back into the baby’s face via box fan.

Yup, dude is a straight up jerk. Don’t hang out with Green Apple.

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TBT: “Children’s Story” – Slick Rick

Are you having a bad day? I sure as fuck am. It’s been one of those days where every single little inconvenience and annoyance, every forced interaction with miscreant dumbasses, human puddles of piss that deserve to be flushed, has piled up inside me, explosive powder packed deeper and deeper in my gut, silently rumbling, turning me into a landmine waiting for one small misstep before I explode. Yeah, it’s one of those fucking days. And it sure as fuck didn’t help that some UN-NAMED CO-BLOGGER asked me to do a piece of shit Throwback Thursday post, even though he KNOWS that I hate artificial social media group experiences like Throwback Thursday. It’s like he intentionally chose the one thing he knew would irritate me the most to write. You know what, FUCK IT. I’m going in.

THROWBACK THURSDAYS ARE FUCKING STUPID. THEY’RE INSIGNIFICANT FLEETING MOMENTS OF ENTERTAINMENT FOR DUMB PEOPLE WHO DON’T HAVE THINGS TO LOOK FORWARD TO IN LIFE, MORONS SO VAPID AND EMPTY THEY JUST SHUFFLE BACK THROUGH THE NOSTALGIC PILES OF BULLSHIT THAT CLUTTER THEIR VACANT BRAINS, PICKING OUT RANDOM CHUNKS OF LONG-TERM STORAGE TRITE TO SHARE WITH THE WORLD. REMEMBER THIS? YES, WE ALL REMEMBER IT BECAUSE IT WAS A POPULAR MOMENT IN HUMAN HISTORY YOU WORTHLESS SQUEEZE OF CUM DRIP.

Woah, sorry, I blacked out. What happened? ANYWAY… If you’re having a one of those days where you just publicly blogged an entire paragraph in all caps that ended in the words “squeeze of cum drip”, you might want to heed the bedtime magic that Slick Rick spins on the classic track “Children’s Story” before you go postal. In fact, listening to Slick Rick’s smooth, Mother Goose flow might even calm you down a bit. It might make you remember why it’s nice to look backwards sometimes, to place yourself mentally back into a pocket of time where life was easy and stress-free. Or it might just make you more upset because poverty, race relations, and police violence? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW. IS IT FUCKING FRIDAY YET?