Wacky Confession Wednesday

"I spent much of my thirties in DC, shilling for the cranberry lobby. I spun the cranberry like a pro. A juice here, a cranapple there, a couple $100,000 in pro-cranberry legislation over there. I was at the top of my game. Of course by this point you must certainly be wondering why I'm not still championing the cranberry, and why I'm not the Jack Abramoff of bitter fruits. To be honest, I never felt good about backing the cranberry. It's a shitty fruit and deep down I knew it. Then, on Thanksgiving 1987, I saw my nephew try the cranberry sauce. He cried. He cried hard. That poor 14 year old had been scarred for life by the shittiest side dish ever created. Of course he did. I saw it coming the moment I saw him go there with his spoon. These things only end one way. I felt the weight of the world collapse onto my chest. This was my fault. I ran out the door and back to my hotel room where I tried to hang myself. To this day I'm not sure I'm happy to have lived. Each year the cranberry returns in sauce-form to it's place at Thanksgiving Dinner and I know why. And knowing eats away at what's left of my soul." -Brought


Several years ago I got a job as a Cat Whisperer. Cats have long been the house animal of choice for lazy people, and there is a serious market for anyone that can tame an unruly one. I decided to get in on the ground floor, so I paid my $200 for the Cat Whispering course, got a cowboy hat, and started up my business. It went really well for the first few months. I was raking in the money. I got a little jammed up when I took on Mr. Bonkers. That fucking cat just wouldn't break. He hissed, hit bit me, and he kept spraying everything. It all came to a head when he clawed up my cowboy hat. In a fit of rage I scooped him up and threw him against a wall. As fate would have it, his head comically lodged itself in the drywall. I let out a little chuckle in front of the owners and they just flipped. I pulled the dead cat out of the wall and handed it to them, tipped my clawed up hat like a gentleman and left. -Gap

Everyone needs a hobby. My lifelong hobby has been collecting Barbie dolls. Don't get me wrong, I was no fancy boy like Tommy's son. I never played with Barbies. I just collected them. I had them organized in a "doll house" which was really a miniature torture chamber. My Skeletor, Shredder, and Darkwing Duck action figures did some pretty sick shit to those poor Barbies. But to be clear, this wasn't indicative of any sociopathic tendencies on my part. It was merely art. I was long recognised by The New Yorker as being the male with the biggest Barbie collection in the world. Oh, there were some females who had bigger collections. Like Sonny and Cher's daughter. But to be the male with the biggest Barbie collection was something that made me very proud, Then that bitch Chastity Bono got a sex change and now "he" has the biggest male-owned Barbie collection. What a fucking sham! Chaz Bono my ass. That "dude" doesn't even have the slightest comprehension of what Darkwing Duck can do to a Barby with a a car battery and jumper cables. -Pembry