Tag: drugs

Hope I Die After I Get Old

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That's the spirit!I’m looking forward to being old. Life so far has not been as exciting as I hoped. I was too weird to have enjoyed a flirtatious carefree youth and I’m spending most my adult life sitting in traffic queues and being thrown out of cocktail bars. I’ve decided my twilight years are going to be the best of my (fast diminishing) life. I’ve only got 50 years to wait! Well, 45. All right, maybe closer to 40. Bugger.

I hope my family dumps me at the doorstep of the local seniors’ home the day I reach admission age. Senior homes may be like prisons with flowery curtains, but think of the benefits! Three square meals a day, lots of TV to watch and uniformed helpers to cater to your every need.

I imagine by the time I’m old they will have senior homes in space – Heaven’s waiting room in the heavens. Being weightless will help us old folk move around easily and I’m sure the boffins will have invented some sort of magic space lemonade to keep us fit and regular.

Me and my old-timer chums can float around the TV lounge all day watching remastered 3D holographic movies from the old days. We’ll hovver around sucking Werther’s Original Magic Mushrooms (drugs will of course be legal by then) and watch classics like SAW IIV and Debbie Does Denmark.

Hopefully boffins will have invented an interactive virtual reality pod too. We can indulge our fantasies and have some senior sexy time with holographic stars. Oohh virtual George Clooney, just wait until I get out of this prosthetic brace and we’ll have some fun!

Tiggy in 100 years. I hope.Pumped up on magic space lemonade and as many Werthers Originals we can get our wrinkly hands on, life will be one big senior home house party (at least until bedtime at 7pm).

Old Mr. Jay-Z Johnson in his pimped out wheelchair can provide entertainment with ditties from the good old days. “Oh, ma bitch! Ma Ho! Shake ur Ass, bitch!” he will croak as his blinging gold false teeth rattle inside his bony head.

Maybe devilish geriatrics Mr. Rose and Mr. Slash will wake from their afternoon naps and treat us to some old-fashioned guitar shredding and arthritic-foot-tapping rock tunes. As long as they keep the noise down.

We have nothing to fear from old age! It’s going to be a fogey-fest of liquid meals, happy pills and moaning about how today’s youth don’t know they’re born, the old days were much better. First one to the stair lift gets a go with Virtual George!


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Tiggy’s Old Timer Crush Club

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My boys! Oh, how lucky is Tiggy.

It’s nice to be complimented by men, isn’t it? Unless you’re a straight man. Although don’t knock what you haven’t tried.

And I do get compliments. A twinkling smile and a charming “You look nice today!” or “I’d really like to bang you!” brightens up my day no end. Unfortunately, most of the men doing the complimenting are usually quite mature…

Oh, What A Lovely War

The beer goggles are on!I was sitting at a bar hoping to catch the eye of the hot barman when an elderly gentleman sat next to me and ordered a Guinness. He seemed innocent enough. You know those old guys who can drink endless pints of Guinness and talk for hours about nothing? Well, he talked for hours about nothing. His false teeth were wearing down at an alarming rate. I smiled sympathetically, hoping he’d clear off so I could share some quality time with the barman.

But then the old devil dropped his killer chat-up line like a doodlebug on a bus queue. “My dear, you are the image of my first love… she died in the Blitz”. Oh nice. Did I look like her before or after the Blitz?

Then I felt a bony hand on my knee. Ever had one of those evenings?

Old Charlie hanging with his birds.Dead Pigeon Fancier

The boozy company party was no better. I had invested my evening chatting up lovely Rick from Marketing only for him to slope away (well, flee) with some pathetic excuse about having to vomit in the washroom. His place was instantly filled by Charlie the janitor, who swooped on me like a gnarly old crow with a pacemaker.

Initially Charlie behaved like a perfect gentleman, bringing me Bacardi Breezers on demand and entertaining me with stories about the Korean War, garbage disposal systems and the number of dead pigeons he’d pulled from the water tank.

Then I saw that decrepit, garbage-stained hand reaching towards my knee. I decided to join Rick in the washroom.

That was him! I'd know those wrinkles anywhere!Rockin’ the Joint

My latest wrinkly Romeo was a guitarist in a rock band that played at my local bar the other night (maybe I should stop going to bars). Under the impression he had the same rock star pulling power as Mick Jagger he slid up to me, flashed a smile and demanded the barman give me a beer. I’d prefer the barman gave me something else, but never mind.

This old rocker had obviously ingested many substances in his lifetime and he reeked of weed. There’s always room for another stoned, drunk man in my crush club! Rather than bore me senseless with tales of the road he just swigged his beer, put his skinny arm around me and asked if I wanted to go home with him. I wasn’t aware that seniors’ homes allowed visitors after midnight.

The barman was laughing too hard to help to this damsel in distress. Oh dear, I was having another one of those evenings.

I guess it’s nice to know there are men with breath in their body (just) that still find me attractive. That most of my suitors are either old, drunk, stoned or frequently all three is less flattering.

Let’s just hope they’re still interested when I hit 70…

They behave like perfect gentlemen until the lights go down over at Humor-Blogs.com


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300 Guinea Pigs

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300 Guinea Pigs. No, 312 Guinea Pigs. Hang on, 386...

I don’t know how I get involved in these things. My so-called friend Sparky rang me the other day as he had a problem. Sparky has many problems, but this one was a fluffy, squeaking problem.

His trucker buddy Super Dave had a job to collect a consignment of 300 live guinea pigs from the airport and deliver them to the local University research lab. Unfortunately Super Dave tends to gets rather misty-eyed about cute animals (especially after a few drinks, as on this occasion). Fearing he was driving his furry passengers towards a life of misery and pain, the idiot pretended they’d escaped from his rig and instead drove them to freedom.

More specifically he drove them to my house. Sparky had already declined the doe-eyed delivery due to the major house renovations he had coincidently just started that morning. But I wouldn’t mind looking after them – he’d call me right away and arrange safe passage for the liberated pigs. Oh, great. What was I supposed to do with 300 guinea pigs?

Super Dave is not planning to visit Ecuador.Not one to miss out on a money-making opportunity, Sparky realized he could make some cash out of the little critters. According to the Ecuadorian guy at the gas station, guinea pig tasted just like chicken and was a delicacy in South America.

Sparky figured he could sell them at $5 a pop to the local World Cuisine restaurant as an exotic entrée. They would also make great barbeque food as they were perfect patty size. Super Dave was not having that – he didn’t liberate them from the lab just for them to end up being grilled to perfection.

Sparky went off to visit his local herbalist with Super Dave’s tearful pleas ringing in his ears. I warned Sparky to hurry up and formulate a plan – my basement floor was now a wriggling carpet of fat-faced furballs. And their numbers seemed to be increasing.

One Pig and a Gram. Genius!A few days later, Sparky returned with his foolproof plan. His herbalist told him that guinea pigs were used by Andean bush doctors to cure arthritis. By gently rubbing the poor creature on the affected area, the pain would magically disappear.

The herbalist reckoned he could flog the guinea pigs at local seniors’ homes, where he had a large customer base for his ‘arthritic healing herbs’. They could probably sell two pigs a time – one for each knee. And the old folks would have a new friend to stroke and chat to. It was all good.

Sparky’s $15 ‘One Pig and One Gram’ deal sold like hot cakes. Within a week, they’d sold out of the little critters. For once I was impressed. For my help, Sparky gave me $200 and a promise never to let Super Dave anywhere near my house again.

Now all I have to do is find another $200 to cover my basement cleaning bill. Thanks, Sparky.

Ahhh.

Give a guinea pig some love and head to Humor-Blogs.com


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Drugs In Sport – Now There’s An Idea!

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Runner's best friend after Nike!

What price glory, eh? Several atheletes at the Beijing Olympics were stripped of their medals after positive drugs tests. And for what? A metal disc and a trip around their hometown on an open-top bus. Drugs in sport are wrong! But supposing they were alright? Some sports could positively benefit from a shot of something…

Caffeinated Golf – The utterly dull ‘sport’ of golf could be livened up instantly by priming the dreary competitors with double espressos and energy drinks before play. Imagine the speed a game would be finished in as the hyper hitters tremble their way to the 18th hole!

No need for golf carts as competitors race around the green like retarded rabbits.

Heeey man, friends forever, yeah?

High Cage Fighting – Like most people, I enjoy watching near-naked sweaty men rolling around on the floor. However cage fighting can get rather violent and bloody. Where’s the love, guys?

I propose a much gentler version of the sport, where both musclemen smoke a giant spliff before combat. We will instead be treated to the sight of near-naked sweaty men rolling around on the floor, giggling and shouting “Dude! I love you!” “No I love you more!” A sure-fire hit with ladies and the gay community.

Drunk Javelin – Make sure the competitors are tanked up to the tank tops, give them a huge pointed spear and point them in the general direction of the target. Watch those javelins fly!

This could be the ultimate in audience participation sport, as the crowd will have to keep a keen eye on the direction of those mighty arrows.

The Canadian Freestyle Olympic team in training.500m Nicotine Back Stroke – To brighten up tedious swimming races, all competitors have to swim with a lit cigarette dangling from their mouths.

The swimmers must keep puffing away until the finish – an unlit soggy butt will mean elimination! Just think of the sponsorship possibilities for Marlboro.

Running – All runners should be allowed to take as many steroids as their bodies can handle. Races will be run in the shortest time possible – the 1500m will be over in a matter of seconds!

In that way, the Olympics will be over a lot sooner and won’t junk up the TV schedules all summer.

I’m thinking maybe LSD Formula 1 and potato vodka skydiving are non-starters, and any sport involving bullets should perhaps retain their drug-free policy. Are there any sports you would want livened up by a lychee martini or two? Tell Tiggy!

Their manly muscles are steroid-free over at Humor-Blogs.com


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