Friday, January 13, 2006

Guest Blogger: Stacy's Angry Couch

Goddamnit, he's doing it again.

This Nimrod comes home and immediately hops his skinny ass on my cushions and turns on Letterman.

Schmuck.

I used to live with this lovely long haired redhead, but she used to cover me in this nasty yellow sheet, so I could never see what was going on.

The sounds, oh the sounds from her apartment sent my imagination racing!

All I hear now are episodes of Star Trek interrupted mometarily by the sounds of vomiting coming from the bathroom.

I know. I know. I should be more compassionaite, but Jesus Christ, how much barfing can one guy do over a lifetime??

Hold on a second...

(Herbie the Elderly Couch starts to couch, softly at first, but then it becomes more violent until an object comes flying from between the cushions.)

Sorry about that. Goober let the remote control slide between my cushions again.

When I first heard I was going to be leaving to join the living room of a semi-famous radio personality, I started to get excited. I mean, imagine the tight asses that would be placing themselves upon my face.

Instead, I get Boney Ass in his boxers eating Cheetos and wiping his hands on the underside of my cushions.

Dumb bastard.

These unfortunately will be the final words I ever utter, for upon moving to his new edifice, Nimrod will be giving me away.

I watched him as he composed the ad earlier for Craigslist, and all I could catch were the words "free", "garage band", "back porch" and "moody."

I take offense to "garage band." I'm definately a "first college couch" kind of furniture.

But nobody ever listens.

Sigh.

Every once and a while, when Stick Boy comes home and is about ready to plop himself down upon me once again for an evening of slugadashery (I just made that word up by the way...I'm a clever couch) I want to flip out my hide-a-bed and slap his ass to the wall.

Goddamnit that would be funny.

But that would break all the rules.

And I'm a law abiding couch.

If you have lots of tight asses around, despise televised science fiction and don't wipe your hands on the furniture, I'd love to be your new couch.

Peace out bitches.

1 comment:

  1. Hey, you've got history, and don't you forget it. Or... wash it off.

    ReplyDelete