I Hate Student Elections

Each year, there's no bigger mess to cleanup than the goddamn student elections. This year is no exception.

Let me implore upon to understand how ridiculous this shit is: School doesn't start for a fucking week, and already these douchebag kids are in here with their highfalutin posters and banners. One kid, whose name I won't mention - but it starts with an "W" and ends in a "illiam Jenkins" - is running on the Whig platform. I didn't even know that party still existed. Apparently the kid is pretty stuffy, just liked those damned ol' Whigs, as I've heard rumblings that his nickname is "Old Fuss and Feathers."

I won't go on any longer, I just wanted to get the point across that I will eventually beat, unmercifully, the winning and losing candidate in all elections.

I Beat My Meat on My Summer Retreat

School's almost back in session. I've been preparing by conducting two-a-days, if you know what I mean. Managed to get my hands on a copy of the Boynton Beach Middle School 2005 Yearbook. Took a sneak peek at the incoming freshman chicas. I don't want to get anyone's hopes up too much, but from the looks of it we're gonna be seeing some Choice-Cut, Grade-A, high-quality scootch. And that's just what I know from the glance I got at the ESOL club pictures before the cops took the yearbook away.

Either way, I'm lookin' forward to the start of the new year.

I Can and WILL Wear Sweat Pants

Got a note from the principal this morning telling me I, "cannot, under any circumstances, wear sweat pants to work anymore." He goes on to say that I, "must, without a doubt, wear underwear to work everyday."

It seems that certain members of the faculty have taken note of my bulge. For this I apologize. But what I will not apologize for is the fact that sweat pants sans underwear offers me the comfort and stability I need to perform my duties at the highest level. The added nuisance of boxers or briefs leads to chafing and/or general discomfort.

Even though every now and then I tend to be aroused by the female members of the faculty and/or student body, this does not entitle the principal to revoke my sweatpants privileges. Nowhere in the employee handbook does it say I must wear regular pants and underwear, and until that time I shan continue to dress the way I see fit, and I shan continue to pop wood.

Deep Throat is Mark Felt?

That begs the question: Who does that make the art teacher, Mrs. Jennings? I thought she was Deep Throat.

Just for fun, here's a poem I wrote about Deep Throat many moons ago, when I thought it was Mrs. Jennings. (it doesn't all rhyme.)

While art may be your vocation,
Your fellatio sends me on a vacation,
While you're lecturing about brush strokes,
I long to stroke your bush (with my prong.)

When you're busy molding clay,
I'm anticipating a roll in the hay,
Whilst that clay is in the kiln,
You shan drop your pants and be driln (with thy shanker.)

Good times.

At the Movies... with Janitor Dan

This week's movie review comes from the Adult Section. Ramboner stars Cumchester Stabbone as a Gulf War vetern who goes back to the newly democratic Afghanistan in order to spread the teachings of the Morman church. When he arrives, he is captured by a militant group of Afghani lipstick lesbians, who make him their sex slave and brainwash him into a worshipping a buxom, brunette god.

I enjoyed Ramboner immensely. Stabbone's screen time was minimal once the sex scenes started, which is a huge plus in my book. The Afghani lesbians were all gorgeous and well proportioned in the chest and buttock areas.

The best part of the movie had to do with the fact that as their sex slave, Stabbone was only forced to bring them sex toys and different types of Afghani cuisines, which would then be used by the lesbians for nasty sex stuff. He was fully clothed in all of his scenes, and for that reason I'm giving the movie 4/5 MOPS. (Multiple Orgasms Per Scene)

A Note to the Hot Teachers

Seems like all over the country the past couple years, we've been hearing about young, pretty teachers doing it with their students.

I have one thing to say to that: Save a student; Do a janitor.

Why get yourself in all kinds of trouble with these kids? A high school kid doesn't know his way around a woman like I do. And some prepubescent kid isn't going to be able to offer you four full inches of manhood like I can.

Wanna know the best part about doing me? I'll clean up the mess afterwards.

I Swear The Festering Wound On My Mouth Isn't Herpes

Seriously, ladies: It's ok to kiss me. You won't catch anything. From what I've heard, herpes comes and goes, right? Well, what I've got has been on there for a while, and it ain't going nowhere.

You all remember that student-teacher Ms. Johnson, right? She didn't get herpes. She died of some sort of beef drape deficiency. I had nothing to do with that.

So, disregard that memo the school nurse sent out. I personally guarantee that you will be safe coming within ten feet of me. On top of that, I'll give you my prescription for Valtrex if you do contract something. That's for my genital herpes, but I assume that it would work on your mouth, too.

A Janitor's Sacrifice

Every nine weeks, I'm unlucky enough - or just plain dumb - to manage to stumble upon some rare disease or illness. I guess that shit just comes with the glory of being a Custodial Engineer.

You name it, I've had it.

Even worse: You've never heard of it, I've had it. To name a few:

Painter's Taint
Old German Snatch Attack
Blistered Nutsack
Stringbean Penis
Dick's Covered Wagon
Speckled Wanger
Whispering Pubes
The Grieving Erection
Five Alarm Shanker
Disappointed Grundle

Maybe I should stop rubbing my genitals on everything in the bathroom.