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Guest Blog by: IronKyle Editor, edited by Kyle.

16 Sep

Today’s guest blogger is my editor, whom I lovingly refer to as “Editor.” I’ll be editing throughout, mainly for word choice. Enjoy Editor’s blog, but not too much. I’m still the funny one. Don’t forget. Please?


Hey everybody, you may know me as the Editor of Iron Kyle’s blog. Kyle’s been super busy recently and hasn’t had a chance to write anything new. Therefore, Kyle asked me to take a shot at writing today’s entry. [Kyle’s Note: I only asked you because my shits don’t have thumbs and can’t use the space bar.]

Kyle’s notes will be in the brackets from here on out. I won’t be able to comment back before Kyle publishes this, so be gentle, Kyle! 🙂

Here it goes!

I wake up and turn off my alarm clock. “It’s morning already? I just laid down!” I think to myself. Then, I eat a big bowl of [shit]. I love Frosted [Shits]! They’re my favorite. I’ve been eating [shit] since I was a little boy. I can remember my [hobo dad] coming into my room, turning the lights on and saying gently [“You’re adopted.”]. I hated getting up in the morning, as I still do, so I’d lay in my bed just a little longer until my dad would come back and pull my covers back. If I still resisted, he would [fuck] me up and [kick] me down the stairs. Jeez, I’m rambling. Sorry, still new!

Usually, by the time I wake up, my wife is already at work. She’s a [stripper] at a local elementary school [for strippers.]. I have some coffee, eat breakfast (Frosted [Shits]!), and take my vitamins. I try to take my vitamins everyday, especially vitamin [balls] because of my [balls] deficiency.

I get in my car and drive to work. The commute is usually pretty frustrating. The money Kyle pays me isn’t enough to get a place in the city, so I have to commute [like a bitch].

I get into the office around 9:30 or 10. Kyle shouldn’t show up for another two or three hours. Now is when I get most of my work done. I spend the majority of my morning answering e-mails and phone calls from people trying to collect on winnings from the impossibly unrealistic sweep-stakes Kyle makes up to get out of tight spots. Today, I talked to a woman who told me that Kyle said she could move into the White House if she let him burn her house down with fireworks–said he told her “‘Bama’s pickin’ up everybody’s tab nowadays. Don’t worry about it. It’s cool. He’s cool. He is. He IS.” She noted that Kyle sounded kind of threatening at the end. This is fairly commonplace. Kyle loves to end conversations with a tinge of intimidation–he says it gives him the “Jack Bauer” effect. I told him it gives him the poor conversation effect.

Kyle usually arrives around eleven or so. I bring a change of clothes for him because the ones he comes in with often smell of five or six unidentifiable substances. Sometimes though, we get lucky, and can tell what’s on Kyle’s clothes. Yesterday, his shirt held a mixture of whiskey, blood, Gak, and women’s perfume. Kyle came into the office as he often does: hung over from a night of [witnessing] and wreaking of [cinnamon and good deeds].

“Editor! Editor! Have you prepared my computer?” What Kyle means by this is “Have you brought up Google image search and typed ‘Regina Spektor’ into the search bar.” I had, in fact.

Kyle puts on the fresh shirt I bought him. “No calls until noon.” It was 1:30 pm.

“Sir, it’s 1:30. It seems you got in a bit later than usual.”

“What? No. Set all the clocks back to 10 am, then no calls until noon. Do it. Get it done. Do it. What am I p…” His voice trails off as I slowly shut his office door. Sometimes the best way to deal with Kyle is the same as dealing with a messy room: just shut the door so you don’t have to look at it.

I return home to my [woman slave] and my newborn [child slave]. He’s so [dramatic]! I never thought I would create something so [fat]. On most nights we will all go out to our favorite local hole-in-the-wall restaurant, [Hooters] and grab a bite to eat. I usually get the chicken sandwich and my wife usually gets the Caesar salad.

When we get home, my wife and I will put the [poop factory] to bed and spend a few hours watching old movies on AMC. My wife loves those movies. She says they remind her of a time before [our marriage]. She’s amazing.

After awhile we both tucker out and crawl into bed, resting up to [donkey punch] the day!

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