GUEST POST: I DISAPPROVE OF: WATER PARKS

By guest contributor: Peter "Venerial Disease" Daniel II

I would rather sit spinning on a lazy susan getting bukakke'd round robin by 200 men, than spend a day at a waterpark. Why, you might ask? Well, I'll tell you.

Imagine floating down a lazy river in a rubber tube letting the ebbing tide carry you by ominous tufts of pubes and rogue cuntscabs precariously bobbing up and down, eager to pass on the infectious diseases within.

Or queuing for the aptly named "black hole" - that waterslide which affords riders the sensation of being a turd getting flushed down a demented toilet. How poetic a pleasure: experiencing first hand the fleeting and ephemeral voyage of feces.

Next we'll get in line for the big plunge. Too bad we're stuck staring at the hairy, speedo-clad ass of the paleolithic behemoth in front of us. We then catch a (not so rare) glimpse of the consequences of inbreeding when our eyes affix themselves on a snaggle-toothed troglodyte dancing the stanky leg in a gold bikini. And let me tell yall butterbeans - the stank of THAT leg could choke a hippo.

Accidental enemas via aqua-bazooka. Clandestine uric releases. Enough soggy bandaids and tampons to clog the Hoover Dam. Such are the delights of the waterpark, an appalling frock of filth in which I'd rather not partake.