Vintage Lard

Just trying to introduce a bit of culture…and a gratuitous pic of a man’s ass…

Today I Poop…


Unlike most of you, (probably 38% to 95%) of you, I do not poop every day.  I do not poop once a week or even once a month. No, I only poop once a year, and today is the day.

You are probably asking yourself now, “Should I have the chicken or fish for dinner”?  Which has nothing to do with this subject and I ask that you start paying attention like the rest of us.  Pooping once a year has so many advantages over pooping every day. I know you pooping novice have no idea what I am talking about, so let me educate you.

(1.) The time I save – Pooping once a day takes up anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes of your daily routine. If you are a multi-daily pooper, you can double or triple that number. Adding that up over a lifetime you have wasted…  hmmm let’s see…. Add the 1… carry the 4…. Divide by banana… that comes to 76.29% of your life is spent on the toilet pooping.

 Whereas pooping only once a year takes up just 1 hour….. Actually it’s more like 10 minutes (Believe me), but I like to read and that is about how long it takes me to get through a Jughead comic.

 (B.) Stress of going poop – As a daily pooper, you are faced with daily poop stresses.  Should I poop at work? Can I hold it for the drive home?  What is this hole in the stall wall….? It says to stick my fingers through it…. OK, sounds simple…. OH LOOK! Someone just stuck their penis through.

But a yearly pooper doesn’t give a rat’s ass where they go. Trust me, after a year of no pooping, I’ll cop a squat in the oval office if need be…… Oh right, as if that is the worst thing that has ever happened there!?!?!?!?

(Bat Signal.) The Smell – Do you realize that you daily poopers have to smell your poop (And the poop of others) every time you sit down…. That is 76.29% of your life smelling poop.  What a horrible way to live a life.  It is so bad for you poor souls that the mention of any action reminds you of poop.  Try this…. What do you think of when I say, “I enjoy eating a double beef and bean burrito when I have diarrhea”. You think of pooping don’t you?  I knew it.


Now, we yearly poopers don’t smell a thing…. The reason for this is that after a year of no pooping, the outflow is so violent, we barley stay conscious for more than 10 seconds of the process. By the time we are revived, the hazmat teams have already cleaned up the mess, or quarantined the building… block…. town… or state.

(blue.) Poopers Fatigue – Pooping daily gets tiring. I know; I used to do it. You have to drag yourself in there again & again. This may be the third time today you have done this and you already masturbated on the second go around, so there really isn’t anything for you to do now.  So eventually you just give in and hope that gravity will do its job.

But for us yearly poopers it is an invigorating experience. I feel so much better after I do it. My last poop, I lost 397 lbs. Tell me if that wouldn’t make you feel (And Look) great. Of course the children who witnessed it at the preschool I was forced to go at, will probably need therapy for the rest of their lives. But physiotherapists need work too, don’t they? Plus I’ve heard that the shock therapy treatments to make them forget the memory of their teacher losing her life to what must have looked  like an evil living mass of fecal matter hungry for human flesh, has worked very well for them.

Now, you are asking me, “Golly Ervin, how can we too only poop once a year”? I’d love to answer that question for you, but I am very hunger now and want to eat this Bean & Cheese & Bean & Cheese & Bean & Even More Cheese burrito. ……………………………………………………………………………………

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….. GULP!

OK I’m back. Where were we…? Oh yes, my trip to Illinois. So I’m standing there with this hatchet in my hand, covered in the truck stop waitress’s blood and…. Huh? What? Ooooohhhh, you are the group I was talking about poop with…. Ummmmm, let’s not tell anyone about that Illinois thing, OK. I’m already wanted in 16 states; don’t need to completely lock out the Midwest for me.  Thanks!

Moving forward….

I am in the process of driving home to take my yearly poop in the privacy of my own bathroom.  There is nothing more tranquil and relaxing as unloading several hundred pounds of stored up recycled food in one’s own abode. Once I wake up from the coma, I’ll let you all know how I feel and show you pictures……… Of my weight lose….. Oh, you thought I was going to show pictures of…… Man you are one really weird group of people.  Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to read about my poop.

One final observation…1jvsbn1

Do you realize that you daily poopers that spend 76.29% of your lives sitting on the toilet pooping , just spent another 10 minutes of your life reading a 921 word post about someone else’s bowel movement? You people are obsessed with this shit…. Get a life will yah… you disgust me.

The past 2 years, 9 months, and 1 day… Or 1005 days…, or 143 weeks and 4 days…, or 24,120 hours…, or 1,447,200 minutes…, or 86,832,000 seconds. PART#1

So, I know what you are thinking…

Is this really free fudge I have found in the back of my pants, and should I really be eating it?

But after that I’m sure you are thinking… Should I leave my pants on today while I ride the bus?

Then of course you will think about Jell-O Wrestling, Inter-species love making, and where you hid that body last night…

Finally, you should get around to wondering… What the hell happened to Hot Lard and its staff and what have they been doing for the last 2 years, 9 months, and 1 day… Or 1005 days…, or 143 weeks and 4 days…, or 24,120 hours…, or 1,447,200 minutes…, or 86,832,000 seconds.

What’s that….? You never once wondered that? Well then, fuck you! Get the hell out of here and go back to your Feminine Hygiene blog you pansy. For the rest of you, I’ll be happy to answer that question.

To start, the story is too long and sordid to just put it down in one post. So I’ll break it up in to many different posts to be able to give you as much information as possible… and give our lawyers as much time as they need to go over the information to prevent me from incriminating myself.

Of course, who am I fooling?  Hot Lard does not have lawyers any more. We don’t have any of the old staff or marketing team. The midget hookers have all gone on to bigger and better endeavors.  Or have all died from the tininess that has plagued them from the day they were born and finally ended their miserable tiny lives.

Hell, we don’t even have a front door anymore. After everyone left, the building was boarded up and sold to Hollywood Video to become their new headquarters. Now what the hell does Hollywood Video need with a cream corn wresting ring and a suicide pit? After they went under, I guess Hostess bought the place. That makes more sense to me; they would have much more use for the midget hooker yeast factory that we had out back.

Well anywho…  After they went belly up, the building sat vacant until one morning when I was going through someone else’s belongings and found a key. It was a key to the front door of Hot Lard.  It had been 2 years, 9 months, and 1 day… Or 1005 days…, or 143 weeks and 4 days…, or 24,120 hours…, or 1,447,200 minutes…, or 86,832,000 seconds, since I had last set foot in the building. I had thought about going back to see the old place several times in the past 2 years, 9 months, and 1 day… Or 1005 days…, or 143 weeks and 4 days…, or 24,120 hours…, or 1,447,200 minutes…, or 86,832,000 seconds. But I had lost my key and had no way to get in.

Now that I had a means to get back into my past; (Maybe the 16th happiest time of my life… More like 17th… Ok 18th, No 20th) I decided to leave my position as Amanda Bynes moral compass and hitchhike across the country to Scurvy Hills, Utah and the possibility of reliving my dream of becoming a millionaire by enslaving the Mormons and  forcing them to create egg carton art erotica. But alas… the truck driver that was giving me a ride, got pissed off because I refused to give him head for mileage, and dropped me off in fucking Iowa. Which just so happens to be the home of your favorite web site Hot Lard.

Standing there blankly looking at the building that held so many of my fondest memories; which included journalistic integrity and midget torture. I realized that I finally had a key to the place; and being the Mormon idea was out of the question, (unless I learned to swallow) I could start here again and maybe…. Juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust maybe… if I worked really, really hard… The Mormons would eventually have to bow down to me and call me master. But if not, I could always fall back on this blogging thing.

As I gleefully skipped up to the building… Yes, I gleefully skip, don’t you? I realized that the front door was missing. It appeared that it had been gone for a very long time… So the whole part about waiting to find the key was pretty much pointless I guess. Remember, I referred to the door being missing in the first part of this story dumbass….. So you should have known that the whole time you were reading about me finding the key was just an enormous waste of your time. But it did bring my word count up for this post and that is important.

Going through the building it was hard to recognize any thing. All the old Hot Lard amenities were gone.  (I’m going to use HL for Hot Lard for the rest of this story… What can I say, I’m lazy.)  Hostess had removed all the Demotivational posters we had hanging around the building. How the hell could they weed out the weak if you didn’t have constant reminders of what losers they were? Those posters kept our suicide signup sheet full… Another item they removed. They even converted the HL puke-a-torium into a kitchen to make the Twinkies.  Actually the Twinkie thing was pretty good. I hadn’t had anything to eat or any food offered to me in the past two days. (Unless you want to include the truck driver offering up his man-sausage) There were Twinkies lying all over the place, so I had a feast. Of course I caught and sacrificed and few rats to the evil squirrel god Gorrax first. A lot may have changed over these past 2 years, 9 months, and 1 day… Or 1005 days…, or 143 weeks and 4 days…, or 24,120 hours…, or 1,447,200 minutes…, or 86,832,000 seconds, but I had not lost my religion.

After eating and puking and then eating and puking… then I think I puked a little bit more… Just because it’s fun. Who doesn’t like to good puke, am I write? I then set out to explore the building. I was hoping to find anything that may have been left over from the old HL days.  As I trudged through this dark and desolate place it occurred to me that I had left the gas on at my apartment and everyone that slept there was probably dead now. And yes, I’ll admit… it did put a little smile on my face.

Everything was gone!!!! There was nothing, nothing at all left of the old HL. No computers, no servers, no Post-it note porn art.  I was truly bummed and starting to get a little mad… The anger started to grow and I knew that those damn dirty Mormons were going to pay dearly once I ruled over them.  And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a weak glow coming from a broom closet. As I stared into the light, it became brighter and brighter until I had to shield my eyes or go blind.   I staggered over to the closet… Because I had been sniffing Head-rush the entire time I was in there and that affects my balance.

Once I got to the door (Yes there was a door there this time) I open it (No duh) and looked upon the treasures that waited for me inside. It was the Hot Lard Commodore 64 server and the file cabinet that we kept all the blackmail information we had on our employees.  With this, I could rebuild my kingdom, I could bring Hot Lard out of the grave and back to the prominence it once had. Once again Hot Lard would be the 6th most important web sit on the Internet, I would be the 3rd most powerful person on the Web… And those damn Mormons would tremble at the sound of my voice.







And so that is where we are today. I have setup shop in the new HL office (The old Hostess broom closet) and plan on searching out the old staff to bring them back here, dead or alive.

So that’s it… That is how Hot Lard was started back up again. In the next few posts I’ll let you all know what has become of the old staff and what they have been doing for the past 2 years, 9 months, and 1 day… Or 1005 days…, or 143 weeks and 4 days…, or 24,120 hours…, or 1,447,200 minutes…, or 86,832,000 seconds.

I’ll also try to add some interesting photos from our adventures over the past 2 years, 9 months, and 1 day… Or 1005 days…, or 143 weeks and 4 days…, or 24,120 hours…, or 1,447,200 minutes…, or 86,832,000 seconds, just as soon as I figure out how to use this !@#$$@ Photo editor.

I’d love to write some more right now, but I have to get to work on refurbishing the offices. (Broom Closet) The floor needs to be swept; the desk needs to be mended… Probably should put a new coat of paint on the walls… You’d think that after all these years, the blood stains would have faded….

Finally, I’d like to apologize for any misspelling and grammatical errors that may be in this post.  I’ve hired someone to proof read my writing before it gets into the site. But it has been a very long time since I have done this and I was really excited and……… Well, I prematurely posted. It’s a common affliction in men between the ages of 30 and 65…… YES IT IS!!!

Welcome back readers

Ervin Shlopnick