Today's blog is...

brought to you by this adorable pig and former member of the female gender. I had the pleasure of running into this sow at a truck stop in Oklahoma. You might be asking yourself, "what the fuck is this sick bitch doing in Oklahoma?" I actually went to buy some retards for my torture chamber for "work."

Anyway, I was cracked the fuck out on a diet pill and needed to pull over to piss in the sink use the ladies' room. And on my way in, I saw the fucking monster above, who also happened to catch me taking pics. I played it off like I was answering the phone and said my usual, "sell all my shares."

Well, on closer inspection of the denim tubes (jeans?) covering the mounds of fat extending from "her" hips to the ground, I happened to notice a slight discoloration on the rear of jeans. I decided to pig the fuck out at the Burger King inside the truck stop, all the while fighting back an erection as mayonnaise dripped down my chin. I daydreamed about the fabulous life we could share together, one filled with endless amounts of questionable anal hygiene.

I consider myself an expert in all varieties of stains. According to my "sources," this stain was most probably fecal in nature with just a splash of urine. I'm going to start ordering a cocktail with a similar description,"...and I'll have the usual, some vodka with just a splash of shit..."

Blowing your pants up is right up there with being a Mormon on the scale of embarrassing shit. I do feel as if I've let all you skanky pigs down by not providing a profile pic, but at that point I was fighting for my life. But once I made it inside, I was put at ease by the fabulous selection of Native American "art" on display. And by Native American, I really mean it was made by small children in China. Gas station "collectibles" are a great gift if you'd like the recipient to seriously contemplate suicide. They also help weigh trailers down during tornadoes.