Monday, October 29, 2012

I Prefer Tortillas Over Bread On My Space Flights Because I Don't Want Crumbs Flying Around The Cabin

Being an astronaut can be a very discouraging job.  I wake up literally every morning with a horribly painful erection that, due to strict NASA regulations (brought fourth when they were purchased by Caumcast), I am not to touch, poke or even glance upon--lest it distract me from my mission, which is making adjustments to an unstable Caumcast satellite (so the citizenry of earth may watch Sugar Foo Foo, the child bride).  As a result, I am left feeling much like a Mormon boy, letting semen accumulate inside my bowels until I have a gallon of "milk" sloshing around in there.  Milk that is left to sit and fester, much like my mood.  Not being able to release myself is not only a boondoggling psychological strain but a physiological one as well.  At the very best I have, quite literally, a single american gallon of semen inside my body that I have to try to ignore.  At the very worst, I have that gallon of white butter PLUS a painfully hard erection (generally in the morning and afternoon hours or whenever I look upon my co-pilot Barbara, a normally unfortunate looking woman that I am now lusting furiously over due to my lack of options).