Living La Vida Lopez
When I wake up, Jennifer Lopez is hovering above me in a chartreuse-flavoured frock that leaves little to the imagination, which I resent because I like my imagination to be firm, hard and well-oiled with a daily slathering of rich, creamy imagination exercises.
When I lie down at night, Jennifer Lopez is behind me with a switch flaying my arse and saying, “You been a bad widdle boy”, which I resent because I’m more of a BLT man than an S&M man.
When I have my head in the toilet bowl and there’s vomit all over the walls and it’s dripping off the ceiling like the bloody chunks of a zombie massacre, where is Jennifer Lopez then? Not to be found.
Just thinking about her makes my bowel pregnant.
The Pregnant Bowel
(Courtesy of Jennifer Lopez)
Thanks to some umbilical thoughts of Jennifer Lopez in a maid’s costume and 10,000 litres of pink jelly, my bowel is now pregnant.
Although some people are repulsed at seeing a pregnant bowel out in public, what else am I supposed to do? Hide away in shame for the eight or nine hours it’s going to take before I can drop this load? You people should be more supportive and less judgemental. One day you could have a pregnant bowel too.
Simple things—such as getting in and out of the car—are extremely difficult with a pregnant bowel. One slip and you’ve got a car load full of the finest, nutrient-rich bowel blockage there is.
I know you think it’s all my fault, and that if I was going to think about Jennifer Lopez I should have used protection, but surely she has some responsibility too.
Like in Money Train, in that scene about halfway through the movie where she turns to the camera and says: “Warning: if you think about me in this movie, you could get a pregnant bowel”. Why is that warning missing from all her other movies and music videos?
The harmonics in her voice make my sphincter vibrate like a Chinese dragon. Who’s going to help me clean up if a Jennifer Lopez song is playing in a lift?
What about when I finally give birth to the life growing in my pregnant bowel? Who is going to help me raise the resulting offspring? Woody Harrelson probably would if I asked him—he’s such a great guy that Woody, and working as a bartender for so long teaches you such humility—but I don’t think it is Woody’s responsibility to care for a pregnant bowel created by thoughts of Jen...
Oh my God, what’s that smell? I think my waters just broke.