Don't chew the Trojan gum, it tastes like rubber...

So yeah, when I was little and used to travel "down south" we'd stop at the strangest places. I used to love stopping at the NJ Turnpike rest stop that has Roy Rogers. I'd go into the bathroom and make it a habit to read the random thoughts on the walls. Once, I even found something written by someone I knew!

But sometimes I'd see things no child should ever see. Some adults wouldn't be able to stomach some of the content. But I used to read it and stare in awe at the artwork. The smell of fresh magic marker and messages carved into wood symbolized my innocence being forever tarnished and marked for death. Ok, maybe it wasn't that deep but those insane thoughts still traumatized me to some extent.

Every now and then I still experience flashbacks. I'll be in the middle of a conversation and suddenly feel the need to say, "Your shit must feel real good if your looking up here."

Maybe I should share some of the writings that have stuck with me throughout my life...

"Everybody pisses on the floor, be a hero and shit on the ceiling"

"Why look here? The jokes in your hand."

Here I sit all broken hearted.
Tried to shit but only farted.
Then one day I took a chance,
tried to fart and shit my pants.

"Save fuel. Get cremated with a friend!"

"Pity the poor bastard who's poetic ability is enhanced by the smell of shit."

"Please Do Not Throw Toothpicks in the Urinals, The Crabs Can Pole Vault."

See how this can be difficult to comprehend as a child. This placed me light years ahead of other kids my age. But there was one event that I really should mention. One time I mistakingly went into the men's bathroom. There was a vending machine that not only sold condoms but all kinds of sex toys and informational packets. What kind of scoundrel buys information on venereal diseases from a vending machine?

This is where I was introduced to french ticklers. True story. When I got into high school it became a big trend to get your tongue pierced with what the teens were referring to as "barbells". I was the only one that knew the correct term, french tickler. And because of this, I automatically knew what they were for. Every time someone got their tongue pierced I just knew they were sexpots. Ready to have all kinds of foreign objects dipped in for spontaneous pleasure.

And when I saw men getting their tongues pierced...and you said you're NOT gay, right? Should I ignore those hickeys on the back of your neck or what?