I Bought Bananas.

But if you didn’t read last week’s post, or if you’re just tired of this overused metaphor, I put my Peewee Herman inside a lusty German. Except she wasn’t German, that’s just a rhyme kind of deal.

Then a month later I was in a psych ward.

What went wrong?

Hard to say. For this one we need to go back. Way back.

In second grade I had feelings for my teacher, and while the love was reciprocal, she couldn’t go wild with me cause it was illegal. Then there was a girl named Naomi. She was a bitch, but apparently I understood the concept of hate fucking at a very young age. She liked me, but she was popular and I was incredibly fat, so that was a no go.

There was Victoria who I liked but then someone said I liked her and so I started treating her like shit.

Nicole was next, and she actually liked me for real, but my parents said I couldn’t date till I was 16 and I was not, in fact, 16.

Then there was Lucy who definitely loved me, Forest Fucker who I’m 100% sure also loved me, the twin that I forget the name of who loved me, Pomegranate who super loved me, then I kind of bounced around for a while till I landed on my friend’s girlfriend, but luckily my mind shifted back to Pomegranate who loved me again, then back to Forest Fucker who loved me, and finally landed on the same girl who was now girlfriend of a different friend for a solid year or two who also loved me.

Phew, that’s a mouthful. And that’s only the more notable ones.

You see, seeing so much romantic shit in my childhood (fuck you Walt Disney), I always thought that relationships were the be all end all, an ideal I’ve only recently abandoned. Thusly, I had about two billion crushes in my younger years, 99% of which were unrequited.

So, you’re probably wondering ‘Where is this going and when do I get to laugh at your incredible misfortune?’, and to that I say wait one second. We’re getting there.

Finally, my sights landed on online dating, a horrific realm full of the most boring people you have ever seen. One word responses lurk behind every corner. People who just say ‘hi’ wait for you to linger by their sad stalls. Someone introduces themselves with ‘are you a top?’ and they disappear as soon as you say ‘yikes’. A man has let a homeless man into his home. Why did he tell you this? God only knows. It’s all part of the wild, chaotic realm of online dating.

After half a year, I finally met a pretty chill person. We’ll call her ‘Annie’. This was the first relationship I had through online dating, and probably the healthiest relationship I’ve ever had.

To put that into perspective, we got Whataburger and she cried about her ex boyfriend on our second date. So yeah.

Around this time I was dealing with some pretty awful depression, and it turns out that one completely unhinged person plus another unhinged person does not a good couple make.

So, Annie and I date for about three weeks, I buy bananas, and then I realize I’m not a huge fan of the Clam Casserole. Also, her incredibly intense emotions scared me shitless. I mean, I’m intense. She was something else. So I broke it off with Annie.

Every one of my blog posts has a point where everything goes to complete and utter shit, and this is that.

Breaking up with a girl always reveals things you were previously unaware of, such as; I hated her. I was only using her for sex, like everybody else in her life (BIG THINK). But it was also not my fault cause she ‘just has this effect on people’, and holy shit this was only a three week thing like are you actually fucking serious? Do women really be like that? Can’t it just be a ‘this isn’t working’ ‘oh that’s unfortunate, bye’? Shit son do you use a magnifying glass to make shit bigger cause you are projecting!

That breakup took a solid hour to finish, and after it I felt kind of like a complete garbage human being.

The next weeks were unpleasant.

My father came down

I started doing therapy 6 hours a day.

I stopped showing up to work.

Safe to say, if she overreacted I don’t know what the hell I did.

All of this culminated in me ending up in a psych ward.

Let me tell you, psych wards are fucking weird.

What’s the big idea? What do you hope to achieve by putting a bunch of heavily medicated suicidal people in the same place? Is it a solidarity thing? Like, ‘oh, don’t worry, you’re not the only one who wants to die, everyone else wants to die, too’.

Oh. Great.
Therapists would come in, but it was more or less the same conversation every time.

‘Do you enjoy life?’ ‘No.’ ‘Well, maybe try doing that.’

But hidden throughout the ward were a few good vibes, you just had to search for them.

The first of these vibes was in my room (a small trapezoid with a desk, bed and a bathroom). On the desk there was a piece of paper, and on that paper, scrawled in crayon were three sets of breasts and three phalli. I wanted to see if the staff looked at the shit in our rooms while we were in therapy, so I also left instructions for them to grade each genital out of ten.

But the staff hated good vibes. There were no responses. Seriously? No responses? This place was sad as fuck, the smallest thing you could do is tell me I’m good at drawing pee pees and chest sacks, but no, you have to be a shitter and have no input. Not even any constructive criticism. What the fuck, yo?

Another beacon of light could be found in a wheelchair. Professor Xavier, a diabetic ex biker who had found god and would slap your shit if you dared to say ‘god damn’ in his presence. He had a dark (TM) past, little of which remained, making him a pretty nice dude. Except for the time he offered to put a hit out on a lady’s sister in law.

In the dining area you could find my favorites of the people in the ward. First was Domino, we’ll get into his name later. Then there was GILF, who tried to convince my father that we were in love, Cougar, who told me that age is just a number and I think legitimately wanted to bang my brains out (<3), and then there was Betsy, an old woman who just desperately wanted to die. It was actually really fucking sad, but we’re going to laugh at this suicidal old lady cause honestly what else can we do in this dark, hopeless world?

One day, Domino, Cougar, GILF, Betsy and I are sitting there drawing dicks because we had a cumulative mental age of twelve, when a particular conversation topic comes up.

Domino starts telling a story. Now, this man loved telling stories. He once told us that he saw a woman getting banged by a goat in the streets. I asked where he was from.

‘Texas.’ He said.



Then he told us about a man that fucked a sheep and had gross man sheep babies (?) and was arrested cause the government wanted to keep it quiet. So I tried asking again. ‘Domino, where the fuck are you from again?’


Then he told us he had a domino in his penis and I said ‘Domino, what the fuck, man?

‘Texas.’ he said. That’s the only time the answer made sense to me.

See, this man once made a bet on the Dallas Cowboys. A bet that no sane human being would ever make (hence why he was in there with us).

If the Cowboys won, his friend would have to do it.

If the Cowboys lost, he would have to surgically insert a domino into his penis.

And in a game more important than any Super Bowl to date, the Cowboys lost.

This spurred a long conversation about how it would work. Was it through the top like a bone through a nose? Was it glued on there, or put in the urethra? No. It was apparently inside the penis.

He made an incision on the top, put the domino on a spoon, and spooned it inside of his dangle.

Maybe you’re wondering ‘Wouldn’t that get infected?’

No, said Domino. Because he put toothpaste on it. How could your penis implant possibly get infected if there was toothpaste on it? I mean, if you left it alone, sure, but toothpaste? If it’s good enough for your teeth, surely it’s good enough for your penis! That’s why I go to the dentist for UTI’s.

None of us believed this shit. It was simply unbelievable, especially after the stories he had previously told. But you know, now I’m willing to bet that all those stories are true.

Cause when we expressed our doubt, he whipped it out.

That’s right. In front of two old ladies, Cougar and me, this dude just pulls out his dick. And sure enough, there it is; embedded into his penis is a rectangle, stretching the skin upwards in an ungodly fashion.


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