Check me giving head…

.  .  .ers to my sweet blog. Headers. Not head. Did you think I was going somewhere else with that? Naughty kids.

I’m a little shy of the 2 year anniversary of Pictures of Doom/City Pictures/Best Blog Ever Aside From Some Others That Are Much Better. I just noticed that I’ve plowed some headers during that time. The average person updates their blog image once a year. Just ask Romi. I guess I update mine every few months. Here is the evolution of City Pictures/Pictures of Doom (click on them if you want to see them bigger):

Header 1: Actual City Buildings

I actually really like this one. It lasted from start to about March of 2008.

Header 2: Rabbit and Future

This was inspired by a story I once wrote that can never be published, thanks to a certain film starring Eminem.

Header 3: Monster of Doom

A green testicle with wings. Testicular cancer maybe? How else could it be represented?

Header 4: Mike’s Favorite Thing

This one is recent – a self-portrait of me throwing up. I really like this one but it seems this wasn’t much a fan favorite…

Header 5: Mike’s Childhood of Doom

Sperm is a reoccuring theme here. I think with this year’s birthday entry/header design, I’ve perfected the art. My sperm drawings are better than anyone else’s in the galaxy.

Which is your favorite? Oh yeah? Why don’t you vote already?

Mind if I put my rash on your seat?

As any Pictures of Doom enthusiast knows, I love me some Dunkin Donuts. Rarely a weekday goes by where I don’t head to the Double D to get my fix of caffeine and overly cream cheese’d bagel. Even the workers there know me by name and prepare my coffee as soon as I walk through the door, even when I am the last in line. They love me.

They have other “regulars” too. In particular, there is this one lady who is always sitting down at a table. I see her every time I go in there. She is older, probably in her 60s, but I am not here to talk about that. Her gray hair pokes up through the weird hat, but I am not here to talk about that either. She wears these super short shorts every day, no matter the weather, but I am not here to talk about that either.

Okay, maybe I will talk about that last part. The other day, I noticed her get up from her chair and leave. I turned around for a brief moment, caught a glimpse of the back of her legs, and then became baffled at what I saw. Her shorts go about 6 inches above the knee – they are short for someone her age. So I watched her walk out the door and noticed this crazy red rash on the upper half of the back of her legs.

“Ew,” I thought, “wouldn’t you want that covered up?”

The next day, I saw her there again, sitting in the same chair she always does. I think she was wearing the same shorts as the day before, but the back of her legs were actually touching the plastic of the seat.

“Does she still have that rash?” I wondered.

She got up as I waited for my poppy seed bagel and I peeked around as she headed out the door. Sure enough, the rash was there, in full effect, as if she sat on a bunch of cranberries.

“Ew,” I thought, “her rash was touching the seat? What the next poor sap to sit in that chair?”

I started running all of these odd scenarios in my head. Picture this – you’re a girl wearing a pretty short skirt. Under said skirt, you’re wearing a thong. So say you come into this Double D, order some tasty blueberry cake donuts, then sit down in a chair that was preoccupied by a woman and her crazy rash. So your bare bum, protected only by a string, rests upon the plastic on the seat. Will you walk out of this Double D with a rash too?

Why doesn’t this lady wear pants to cover it up?

“Well, maybe the material irritates the rash dude, so stop being an asshole.”

Two Beefy Legs with Side of Rash (2/2008)

Okay, but if you have a rash like that, are you going to travel about town and rub it on various surfaces? I would hope not. But now you know why I always wear jeans. I don’t want someone else’s rash rubbing against me. Not at all.