I think the Olympics are boring as sh*t…actually, no, I take that back, because I’ve actually taken dumps that were exponentially more entertaining than watching a bunch of runners, gymnasts, swimmers and horses do sh*t I don’t care about. I mean, one time I pooped a solid kernel that was a perfect circle. A. PERFECT. CIRCLE. Also, the diameter was slightly wider than my butt exit, so I was literally sitting on the toilet for, like, 20 minutes, hands clenched into tight fists and my face red and sweaty, as I tried to squeeze this petrified poop orb out of my butt. When I finally succeeded–OMG, it was like I won the freaking lottery–it was exhilarating and amazing, and without the downward spiral of drugs and murderous prostitutes that inevitably follows lottery winners.

And then right after I celebrated by throwing back fistfuls of fiber caps and several cups of Activia because as glorious as my epic fecal feat was, it had left my butt hole TORE UP.

Anyway, that’s how negatively I view the Olympics, i.e., I would rather anally give birth to a stone doot that shreds my anal walls on its slow way down than watch a minute of some athletes doing athletics.

I wrote this on my phone which is why there aren’t any Paint pictures, so instead, here’s an irrelevant picture of Scrambles with a Pokéball I put on her head.

I may or may not have made the Pokéball. If it looks awesome, I made it…if it looks terrible, Scrambles made it.