Poinson ivy

Before I begin. Let me first acknowledge that whenever I say anything bad about someone, or some place, something good happens to them. I question adam dunn’s sexuality…home run. I call out boston fans…championship. I call out Kobe bryant…he gets to have rough sex with a white chick in denver. So let me say now that my wife sucks at winning the lottery….

So I have contracted poison ivy. my reward for catching some fish, and having a nice relaxing fathers day, is poison ivy. When I get poison ivy, I act like a four year old trying to shake off the cooties. I dump calamine lotion all over myself, and whine un-controllably. Once the inital rage at my itchy skin has worn off, I proceed to phase two. Acceptance. Once I have accepted the fact that I am now a lepper, I immediately slather my genitals in as much poison ivy medicine as possible. I don’t have it there, it’s preventitive, and soothing. So I have now used up an entire bottle of generic brand calamine, and also dropped another 14 bucks at walgreens. With all the talk about global warming, and killing the planet, can’t we at least get it hot enough that poison ivy no longer can grow? Or maybe sell off all our toxic waste to dump on the weeds themselves. If anyone has any good poison ivy treatment tips, please share them. I’m starting to run out of long sleaved shirts to cover my pink arms. yesterday, at a B.P. station the chick behind the counter asked me if I had poison Ivy. (my arms were covered in calamine) I said “no, why do you ask?” then I looked at her wrists. She had huge scars running up each wrist. Apparently sometime in the recent past she tried to kill herself. I resisted the urge to ask her how her attempted suicide was working out. I am after all, a gentleman. Stupid whore couldn’t even kill herself. Oh well, she’s poor. Subsidized housing, and crystal meth will take care of that anyway.