My childhood left me dramatically unprepared for the real world. I never quite learned how to handle awkward moments, or hold myself in serious situations, or shut up. I never really learned how to work hard, I did learn how to argue for you to give me your stuff. I am great at that. I can tell you why you have a car and I don’t, and that I want your car and you should give me your car.
But that doesn’t make a difference because it’s your shit. I don’t even have any shit. I don’t even own a bicycle, really. I am now that guy.
I am the immobile kid who needs rides everywhere and will argue for why you should come pick me up. Ohh do you have a car? Well I have jokes and no concern about exploiting our friendship if it means I don’t have to walk to McDonalds. I mean, to be fair, their parents probably bought them that car or bought them other things so they could save up for that car. What the fuck? I am talking to no one. No one reading this is going to come pick me up. Please someone come pick me up. If you don’t, I will yell at you on Facebook until you come pick me up. I am dangerous, I have nothing to do and I have what seems to be an unlimited supply of snarky comebacks. Come pick me up.
I feel as though I don’t know where to place the blame for my condition but my immediate turning point is Ahh Real Monsters. I fucking hated that show. The art was creepy and there was that dickless midget who had to hold his eyes above his head so he didn’t have to stare at everyone’s crotch, which was really tragic because he had a disgusting amount of spaghetti-like armpit hair that was always revealed. I feel like that guy had to argue his way into a car. I have become that dickless midget from Ahh Real Monsters.
I am that guy.
It’s not even like I have adapted well to this plight. I still have an unusually hard time at pretty easy shit. Like walking. I am horrible at walking. I take a long time doing it and I complain the entire time. I just fell down today while walking. Have you ever just fallen down while walking? Without anyone tripping you or any outside force acting upon you? Well you shouldn’t. You know why? Because you can observe, react, and change your walking pattern to stop you from falling down. And now I am on the ground, without a bike, and without a car, and I can only argue that you should pick me up and give me nice things. I want nice things and I am not very handy. Please don’t blame me, I watched too much Ahh Real Monsters.
I have been trying to grow up. It’s sort of hard and stupid though. I have been trying to put myself in situations where I have to work and succeed to survive, rather than just argue but still retain my level of boyish charm that everyone has grown to expect. So I did what everyone does to grow up. Go on Groupon.
Groupon forces you to like weird shit. Of course, you would never want to go to a Korea Bathhouse, one because they have small hands and two, they have little souls but if it is 75% off, in this economy, YOU HAVE TO GO. Excess use of Commas detracts from overall points.
Every time I go on Groupon, I feel a little bit like a sex-deprived mother who has finally figured out how to use her son’s laptop. Please don’t check my top sites, it will only make you and Jesus cry. I am still not even sure what Groupon is. At least I figured out porn, because otherwise I would be really screwed.
So Erin and I were going to Washington D.C. for Spring Break because are just as adventurous as we are spunky. I hate the word spunky. Ellen Degenerate is spunky. I am not spunky. She is spunky.
Also, I have a girlfriend named Erin Miller. She is lovely and laughs at my jokes.
Look at how lovely she is. She doesn’t have a car. It’s a contention point in our relationship. She does own a bike, but we get heckled every time I try to sit on the handle bars. I would put her on the handle bars, but let’s try to get walking down first.
She doesn’t understand what Groupon is and I think that’s what is holding our relationship together because if a couple Groupons (It’s a verb, noun and adjective *Please see Below for more details*) together they might as well own 7 cats and work at the Postal Office because they now a sack of shit. I shouldn’t attack the Post Office. They are doing a great job.
So on Groupon, I saw an ad for Spa World in Washington D.C. I thought ooot! Here is something that I could pretend to like and tell my elderly co-workers about! So I buy 2 tickets for Spa World and hopped on the plane to D.C.
Let’s get a few things straight. Most people would investigate where the location of the Spa World was, what it was like, what you have to bring, etc. I just bought the tickets because they had a nice picture. You know those stupid advertisements with a pig hanging out the window screaming weeeeee? Well, as soon as I saw that immediately went a bought a pinwheel afterwards. I didn’t even wait to see what the hell the ad was for. I still can’t tell you what the ad is for. All I can tell you is I saw that advertisement and thought I don’t have enough rotating things in my life. Rotating? That joke went in a weird direction. Too late to delete it, everyone knows I don’t proof read these things.
Here is the picture that made me buy the tickets to SPA WORLD. Look at how nice this thing is! There is a mushroom thing! And doors! Do you see those metal chairs! Those look like something!
Well, the very first problem I encountered was that Spa World was not in Washington D.C. but rather about 30 to 40 miles outside of the city. I don’t know if you just skipped my rant about the car, but I don’t have a car and I am pissed about it. Erin and I then proceeded to find different bus systems to take us the 40 miles, but what I would like to reiterate is that I am not very good at simple tasks and mastering a foreign bus system was the equivalent of a normal person trying their luck at assembling an IKEA desk with no screws and only a hammer to pound the wood into a desk-like shape.
I don’t want to talk about the bus though and you don’t want to hear about it.
What you want to hear about is the absolute shock that Erin and I had the second we pulled up to Spa World. Every sign in this neighborhood was in Korean, even some of the stop signs. And Spa World wasn’t this luxurious place, but rather stuck between an All-You-Can-Eat Duck and Mallard Buffet and a rundown Papa John’s Pizza located in what the Koreans think a mini-mall looks like. So with so much hesitation, we slowly and cautiously entered the doors
I went up to the Cashier and handed her my Groupons and she gave me two little faggy (I mean faggy in the lame sense of the word. Gay people have way too much good fashion sense to put on a potato sack) potato sacks for Erin and I to wear. Yes potato sacks. Well no not potato sacks. But they reminded me of potato sacks and it’s more about the memory than the event. The cashier showed us to the changing rooms and told us to enjoy the spa.
Within seconds of opening the door to the male section, all I saw was penis. Penis here, penis there, and penis everywhere. I was engulfed in peni (Plural of penis). Apparently Spa World is a nudist spa and those potato sacks would not be worn unless you went to go talk to the all-knowing cashier. He didn’t want to see your penis.
The spa above was filled with naked men who sat in silence and avoided eye contact at all cost. For my homosexual readers please don’t be deceived by this description. The peni that I saw there was mutated and looked more like a deflated gray balloon left over from the fat kid’s birthday party that no one attended. Nobody wants your penis and your party sucks you Fat Kid With Acne (FKWA).
In fact, only go to Spa World if you are feeling down because I felt as though I had a beautiful, soft, majestic red wood opposed to their shriveled up purple-purple headed womb ferret.
The very worst/best part of the all the peni was the sign that you had to read before you entered the spa, which put every individual who read it in the worst mental space you could imagine.
WELCOME TO SPA WORLD!
Rules of the Spa
1. Do not take pictures of any individual in the spa
2. Do not point at any individual’s member
3. Do not stare at an individual’s member
4. At no point should you laugh at our guests
5. Please do not touch another guest without permission
6. No sexual misconduct in the pool
Welcome to the gulags for penises. And I thought Hilary Clinton was the place where boners go to die but apparently she has handed over the reins.
Also can we talk about the 6th point? Who would want to have sexual misconduct after reading that statement? I thought the second I was going to enter the door I was going be screamed at with NEEDLE DICK and COCK MUNCHER and DROOPAP!
They are Korean; they are going to have different sayings then us. Get fucking cultured will you?
No one has entered that door with a boner, and no one ever will.
I entered the door, as flaccid as ever, and proceeded to move to the very first Jacuzzi to stake my claim and get as far away from the other men as possible. Apparently, every single man has thought of this strategy because every man occupied their own section and you would not and could not go into another man’s territory until they move into another one.
So it became a game of waiting and quickly moving with as much confidence as you can transfer to a scared weak penis. I can’t believe how many jokes were going through my mind but I wasn’t about to get out of line, and that’s when I saw it. The moment where I failed so badly to hold in my laughter than it seemed like I didn’t even fucking try.
I looked over and on a concrete platform lay a very black, very fat, very naked man. Above him was a very Korean, very tiny, also very naked man scrubbing the living shit out of him. Next to this whole ordeal was a sign that said “Full Body Scrub -$50- You’ll leave saying WOAZA!”
I cried, I laughed so hard. I sprinted out of my Jacuzzi and into the nearest sauna, shut the door, and just howled with laughter. Let me tell you, I didn’t have to spend $50 dollars to say Woaza!
I got dressed and saw Erin who had stayed in her spa for a total of 5 minutes before realizing that Spa World was absolutely horrible. It took a black man getting hosed down by a Korean man for me to figure out that maybe it was time to go.
I couldn’t help but think that if I was a smarter person that maybe I would have a car. Or that I wouldn’t buy Groupons. Or that I would do a little bit of research. Or when I, John Kelly, am instructed to not laugh at a naked penis, maybe realize that that particular ability is beyond my grasp.
Live Deliberately
John Danger Kelly
John Danger Kelly
How to Correctly use the word Groupon
“Dude, I know I shouldn’t have had 12 beers last night but her tits were huge and I had to Groupon on it.” -David
Here we see David using Groupon to describe a positive opportunity without the use of the actual site.
“I am going to kill you goddamn Jew and your entire family too. You are going to get a bullet straight into your Groupon”-Bill O’Reilly
Bill O’ Reilly while threatening this Jew, used Groupon to describe the most advantageous place to shoot the Jew.
“OHH YEAH! FUCK YEAH! HARDER HARDER HARDER! ALMOST THERE! UHH YEAH! GROUPON!!!!!!” –Erin Miller
As Erin is climaxing she uses Groupon to describe the level of orgasm that she receive. Many women will use this word while they are on bottom contributing much less to the actual orgasm drawing an interesting parallel to the savings of the website.
