Tangarang

Hot diggity, my TCB coozie has been found! I am glad it was discovered before I had to resort to more drastic means, such as dredging the Comal River. I don't know if I'd need a tugboat or a special license or what for that, but I would be willing to do it. Yes, it only cost $5.99 when I bought it at the world's largest gift shop in Las Vegas, but its value has grown to over one billion dollars at the world's largest apple butter factory, aka my house. Without it, I was like Pootie Tang sans his belt.

A lot of people throw around the Pootie Tang lingo now, but I'd like to point out that when it first came out, I drove 45 minutes to see it at the only theater showing it in Dallas. The only people in the joint were me, the girl I was with, and this lady who brought 8 children. By the midway point of the movie, the lady and her kids had left in disgust, and I was stuck in a vicious argument with my companion over whether or not we should go. Ultimately, she stormed out, and it was just me, Pootie, and my uncontrollable tears of delight.

In retrospect, that story has only grown more absurd. You mean a female could actually believe I'd pick her over Pootie Tang? You must respect my priorities, ladies! If there's a reason I've yet to be enslaved by one of these menstruating menaces, it's because I'm still waiting for one to get with the program. Carpe Pootie.