Winner, winner, chicken anal beads.

I haven't blogged in over a month, which makes me a loser. Only I won a fierce competition tonight, which not only makes me a winner, but also cured my writer's block.

Last week, I got a call from my friend Megan. "So, I'm calling you because you're the only person I know that would go to this with me." With that opener, I was already sold; but she went on to tell me about this show at a local theater called "The Sickest F***ing Stories I Ever Heard". It consists of a group of local comics sitting around a poker table telling disgusting, politically-incorrect stories. It's worth noting the three movies I've laughed hardest in are: Jackass, Jackass 2 and Borat. This was right up my alley.

The show tonight didn't disappoint. There were several times when I laughed as hard as I could, yet still wasn't laughing hard enough to satisfy my amusement. And probably due to his charming tales of rub and tugs, I developed a mild crush on KLBJ's Charlie Hodge, one of the comics. But the best was yet to come. When the show finished, they announced a competition for the sickest audience story. I'm competitive as all hell, but for the life of me I couldn't come up with anything. A chick with a clipboard came by and asked if I had anything to contribute and I shook my head, disappointed in myself. Members of the audience went up to the mic and told stories about poop in a bag, "retards fucking" and even a two-toned dick, the result of a middle school masturbation accident. Suddenly, not one, but two sick stories popped in my head. I headed to the mic, was unanimously voted the winner and went home with a lovely prize package consisting of porn, a dildo, and some anal beads.

And because I'm the most competitive person on earth, it was pitifully a win I needed as last week, I challenged my friends' four year-old to Mario Kart with disastrous results.

"Jackson, you're about to get OWNED!!!"

Jackson's dad shot me a look that was a mix of disbelief and horror. "Are you seriously trash talking my toddler?"

"I prefer to call it 'managing expectations', but potato, potahto."

The kid demolished me. He sailed into 2nd place while I did circles, trying to figure out how to get the "U-turn" signal off the screen. That, combined with continually driving off cliffs ensured I never made it past 12th place.

"He can't even form full sentences!" I howled in my defeat. "This SUCKS! Hey, you don't have Zelda on here, by chance, do you?"

I was still licking my wounds last night, when we introduced my 89 year-old grandmother to Mario Kart. My grandmother had her license taken away from her three years ago, gets driven around like Miss Daisy, and yet somehow managed to finish first.

All this to say that quick thinking and two different but equally disgusting stories have ensured I won't be sobbing myself to sleep again tonight.