Taylor Swift isn't the only one who is hurt!
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Some people are so lazy
I was in a department store today, Myers, one of Australia's two biggest chains. This is a company so big that they have enough money lying around to pay millions of dollars to an overrated 'supermodel' to be an ambassador or some shit. Yeah right, like anyone would specifically go to one store because they pay money to a model to pretend she shops there sometimes. Next thing you know people will be telling me that there will be companies who routinely pay for pop-up ads on major websites that do NOT automatically get blacklisted by so many consumers that they go bankrupt within a year. Um, banks started doing that and the world's economy was destroyed, I think I know what I am talking about!
Anyway, I was in this store today and they had Christmas decorations up. STILL!!!! It's October, they have had ten months to take that stuff down. Really that stuff should be down by like February right? A month or so from now and some of the really annoying shops will be jumping the gun and ALREADY putting up Christmas decorations for THIS year.
I just don't understand how some businesses even think they'll make money.
Anyway, I was in this store today and they had Christmas decorations up. STILL!!!! It's October, they have had ten months to take that stuff down. Really that stuff should be down by like February right? A month or so from now and some of the really annoying shops will be jumping the gun and ALREADY putting up Christmas decorations for THIS year.
I just don't understand how some businesses even think they'll make money.
Monday, October 11, 2010
How to have all the power in the world!!!
Yesterday I ended up being a little bit political completely unintentionally. Damn those politicians and their sneaky ways to influence us regular folk.
Made me think today, and that's dangerous. Damn those politicians and their sneaky ways of creating danger.
People are always referring to the president of the United States of America as the most powerful man in the world and I can't help but think, um, no he isn't!
The president is a man (or one day a woman) whose every single decision is subject to world wide scrutiny and debate, and is molded by meetings/ following party lines/ honoring promises/ and catering to benefactors who paid for their campaigns, and whose implementation is reliant on being passed in congress and the senate and all those bill dealies! Power my ass.
And speaking of ass, consider this: If the president is anywhere but the White-house and he needs to go poo poo it takes a massive security operation clearing bathrooms and making sure safe passage in and out of perhaps previously unplanned buildings. And the president is a person who is stressed and often eating foreign foods at irregular times and therefore probably has inconsistent and perhaps even sudden strong poo poo needs where time is of the essence and he has to spend that time waiting for meetings between his security team on where and when the best time and place for said bowel movement can be arranged. That's right, the presidents bowel movements require MEETINGS and then when he goes he probably has security right there in the toilet with him just in case someone has snuck in a deadly spider in the hope it would bite him. (by the way, I have always thought dropping spiders on enemies would be WAY more affective than dropping bombs. Plus wouldn't the footage look cool, thousands of little spiders being parachuted onto Iraq?)
If you cannot have a bowel movement without other people having a meeting to discuss when and where you can then you are not powerful!
The president has 330 million bosses, and every single on of them will tell him he's not doing a good job if that's how they feel. Have you ever had a boss tell you that you need to lift your work effort, or that a task you have completed wasn't done satisfactorily? It feels horrible, and the president gets that times 330 MILLION times for EVERY thing he does! That would make you feel bad, and feeling bad isn't powerful.
People who have more power than the president (or any elected official in any democratic country) include:
Paris Hilton
Snooky
Homeless people
Lab rats
Head Lice
Washing left to dry over a balcony railing
Green balloons
YOU! Every single one of you!
Damn those politicians and their sneaky ways of pretending they have power!
Made me think today, and that's dangerous. Damn those politicians and their sneaky ways of creating danger.
People are always referring to the president of the United States of America as the most powerful man in the world and I can't help but think, um, no he isn't!
The president is a man (or one day a woman) whose every single decision is subject to world wide scrutiny and debate, and is molded by meetings/ following party lines/ honoring promises/ and catering to benefactors who paid for their campaigns, and whose implementation is reliant on being passed in congress and the senate and all those bill dealies! Power my ass.
And speaking of ass, consider this: If the president is anywhere but the White-house and he needs to go poo poo it takes a massive security operation clearing bathrooms and making sure safe passage in and out of perhaps previously unplanned buildings. And the president is a person who is stressed and often eating foreign foods at irregular times and therefore probably has inconsistent and perhaps even sudden strong poo poo needs where time is of the essence and he has to spend that time waiting for meetings between his security team on where and when the best time and place for said bowel movement can be arranged. That's right, the presidents bowel movements require MEETINGS and then when he goes he probably has security right there in the toilet with him just in case someone has snuck in a deadly spider in the hope it would bite him. (by the way, I have always thought dropping spiders on enemies would be WAY more affective than dropping bombs. Plus wouldn't the footage look cool, thousands of little spiders being parachuted onto Iraq?)
If you cannot have a bowel movement without other people having a meeting to discuss when and where you can then you are not powerful!
The president has 330 million bosses, and every single on of them will tell him he's not doing a good job if that's how they feel. Have you ever had a boss tell you that you need to lift your work effort, or that a task you have completed wasn't done satisfactorily? It feels horrible, and the president gets that times 330 MILLION times for EVERY thing he does! That would make you feel bad, and feeling bad isn't powerful.
People who have more power than the president (or any elected official in any democratic country) include:
Paris Hilton
Snooky
Homeless people
Lab rats
Head Lice
Washing left to dry over a balcony railing
Green balloons
YOU! Every single one of you!
Damn those politicians and their sneaky ways of pretending they have power!
The looming health crises?
Now I don’t usually like to talk about what everyone else is talking about but on this one particular issue so many people have talked so much about it and yet I still don’t think that the people have talked about it in a way in that it should be talked about.
I am sure by now you have seen pundits on CNN and the nightly news talk about the local paper in the small former silver mining town of Sala near Stockholm in western Sweden’s report that the local high school is considering dropping the subject of ‘health education’ or ‘helunda ecoloa’ from their curriculum after the closure of the 2015 school year unless the moderate change in the school budget which is projected to be passed in the next few months doesn’t go through.
Most of the so called ‘big news channels’ claim that this is a sure sign that the health of the entire world is in jeopardy. And while such a horrific rumor to come out of a small town school administration is often a forewarning of a global disaster (it was a small Austrian schools decision to switch lunch from 12pm to 1230pm which was the original catalyst for WWI as I am sure you know) I think in this case the so called experts are wrong (plus who puts ‘expert big news channel guy’ on their business card, isn’t that a little wordy, why not just ‘know-it-all-but-don’t-really-because-I-just-report-what-I-hear-from-other-places-meaning-really-I-just-know-lots-of-people’ surely that’s more practical).
Point is I believe that many of these people who we put so much trust in are not looking at all the facts here. Yes I know newsmen are magical people, a weather man once said it might rain and then it DID – that’s proof that the news people CAN and DO make bold predictions, and weather, also, can have major effects on the world, it once rained when I was on the way to the shop and the heavier traffic meant that I did NOT buy the CD I was planning on buying as planned. And we all know what has happened to the CD market – it’s collapsed! Only years after they lost a sale to me because of the rain. Well delayed sale, I bought it the next day, but still who knows how many other products have seen their market share dwindle to almost irrelevance because of such a delay? We don’t know – you should be on this newsmen, you’re supposed to be experts – yet you don’t know anything about which products would now be king if it didn’t rain that day so I could have made the shop – shame on you. Shame, shame, shame.
Lets look at the facts:
Fact one: In Sweden in the summer the daylight goes for 24 hours and in the winter the moonlight goes on for 24 hours. This means if you wake up after fifteen years in a coma and there is no clock in the room and you look out the window, you will HAVE NO IDEA what time it is! Then some person is bound to say ‘well there probably will be a clock, it is Sweden’ and this poor person, after fifteen years in a coma will be forced to suddenly yell ‘Switzerland is the clock country, NOT Sweden!’ and the strain, and stress of not knowing what time it is AND deal with misplaced cultural stereotypes will almost certainly knock this poor man right back into a coma. Is this the kind of health system WE need to worry about Sala school kids no longer learning about potentially from 2015? Yes we do, because by looking at the bizarre health systems we can learn more about how to deal with unusual events in our own more ‘normal’ hospitals. However things like this are clearly so interesting these school kids are all but guaranteed to look them up and study them in their OWN time, therefore making the school teach them a mute point.
Fact two: Many girls in Sweden are really, really cute. This has no relevance at all to the world’s health, and would I bring this up now if there was a crises coming? Possibly, because I am often distracted by the attractive. Ha ha, that kind of rhymes. Would I bring up that rhyme dealy if there was a world health crisis coming up? Fuck no I wouldn’t, this is serious, and if I am not being serious then you better believe you can trust ME that there isn’t a world heath crises coming.
Fact three: Downhill skiing is both fun and good for your fitness, and there is way less skiing in Sweden than people think, for it is not a mountainous country, and there are way more skiers in Norway to the East, so by definition the Norwegians will be enjoying more of the health benefits and fun times which skiing offers, and very few Norwegians go to school in Sweden. Why? Well would you leave a country that offers all the fun and robustness of skiing? No you wouldn’t. Which is proof that this one schools decision will probably not affect the education of one of their bordering nations.
Fact four: I personally have a really bad diet, and that happened BEFORE this schools announcement, and if I know one things it’s this - very few people stalk me to find out exactly what I eat so they can copy it exactly down the very same quantity of French fries and how many times I dip them in barbeque sauce. Very few people do this, but some do, which means if a health crises is coming shouldn’t I cop some of the blame?
Wait a minute, wait a minute. Now see this is why I don’t like to talk about topical news type stuff, I always end up exposing myself and the cruel way I live my life at the detriment of others. And it doesn’t make me feel good. You suck Swedish school system!!!!
I am sure by now you have seen pundits on CNN and the nightly news talk about the local paper in the small former silver mining town of Sala near Stockholm in western Sweden’s report that the local high school is considering dropping the subject of ‘health education’ or ‘helunda ecoloa’ from their curriculum after the closure of the 2015 school year unless the moderate change in the school budget which is projected to be passed in the next few months doesn’t go through.
Most of the so called ‘big news channels’ claim that this is a sure sign that the health of the entire world is in jeopardy. And while such a horrific rumor to come out of a small town school administration is often a forewarning of a global disaster (it was a small Austrian schools decision to switch lunch from 12pm to 1230pm which was the original catalyst for WWI as I am sure you know) I think in this case the so called experts are wrong (plus who puts ‘expert big news channel guy’ on their business card, isn’t that a little wordy, why not just ‘know-it-all-but-don’t-really-because-I-just-report-what-I-hear-from-other-places-meaning-really-I-just-know-lots-of-people’ surely that’s more practical).
Point is I believe that many of these people who we put so much trust in are not looking at all the facts here. Yes I know newsmen are magical people, a weather man once said it might rain and then it DID – that’s proof that the news people CAN and DO make bold predictions, and weather, also, can have major effects on the world, it once rained when I was on the way to the shop and the heavier traffic meant that I did NOT buy the CD I was planning on buying as planned. And we all know what has happened to the CD market – it’s collapsed! Only years after they lost a sale to me because of the rain. Well delayed sale, I bought it the next day, but still who knows how many other products have seen their market share dwindle to almost irrelevance because of such a delay? We don’t know – you should be on this newsmen, you’re supposed to be experts – yet you don’t know anything about which products would now be king if it didn’t rain that day so I could have made the shop – shame on you. Shame, shame, shame.
Lets look at the facts:
Fact one: In Sweden in the summer the daylight goes for 24 hours and in the winter the moonlight goes on for 24 hours. This means if you wake up after fifteen years in a coma and there is no clock in the room and you look out the window, you will HAVE NO IDEA what time it is! Then some person is bound to say ‘well there probably will be a clock, it is Sweden’ and this poor person, after fifteen years in a coma will be forced to suddenly yell ‘Switzerland is the clock country, NOT Sweden!’ and the strain, and stress of not knowing what time it is AND deal with misplaced cultural stereotypes will almost certainly knock this poor man right back into a coma. Is this the kind of health system WE need to worry about Sala school kids no longer learning about potentially from 2015? Yes we do, because by looking at the bizarre health systems we can learn more about how to deal with unusual events in our own more ‘normal’ hospitals. However things like this are clearly so interesting these school kids are all but guaranteed to look them up and study them in their OWN time, therefore making the school teach them a mute point.
Fact two: Many girls in Sweden are really, really cute. This has no relevance at all to the world’s health, and would I bring this up now if there was a crises coming? Possibly, because I am often distracted by the attractive. Ha ha, that kind of rhymes. Would I bring up that rhyme dealy if there was a world health crisis coming up? Fuck no I wouldn’t, this is serious, and if I am not being serious then you better believe you can trust ME that there isn’t a world heath crises coming.
Fact three: Downhill skiing is both fun and good for your fitness, and there is way less skiing in Sweden than people think, for it is not a mountainous country, and there are way more skiers in Norway to the East, so by definition the Norwegians will be enjoying more of the health benefits and fun times which skiing offers, and very few Norwegians go to school in Sweden. Why? Well would you leave a country that offers all the fun and robustness of skiing? No you wouldn’t. Which is proof that this one schools decision will probably not affect the education of one of their bordering nations.
Fact four: I personally have a really bad diet, and that happened BEFORE this schools announcement, and if I know one things it’s this - very few people stalk me to find out exactly what I eat so they can copy it exactly down the very same quantity of French fries and how many times I dip them in barbeque sauce. Very few people do this, but some do, which means if a health crises is coming shouldn’t I cop some of the blame?
Wait a minute, wait a minute. Now see this is why I don’t like to talk about topical news type stuff, I always end up exposing myself and the cruel way I live my life at the detriment of others. And it doesn’t make me feel good. You suck Swedish school system!!!!
Friday, October 8, 2010
You may not like it but really should probably hear this
If you get your shoe stuck in gum you probably have spectacularly weak calf muscles!
If you head-butt a tyrannosaurus your fear of horns is probably in direct contrast to your time-machine building skills!
If a tyrannosaurus gets its foot in gum someone probably packed really impractically for a time-travelling trip!
If Homer Simpson were here right now he’d probably say ‘d’oh’ because that’s his catchphrase, and therefore statistically speaking the single most likely thing that he would say at any random point of time!
Math is probably awesome, especially statistics!
If you built a spaceship out of knives that were used to stab people you should probably question the security at the police stations murder weapon storage facilities!
If you’re out in public and your outfit is made up entirely of contrasting stripe patterns you should probably have also included some sort of cloth or material!
If to you ‘happiness’ is defined as ‘a million little paper cuts’ then you should probably purchase an alternative dictionary!
If you regularly dance on the graves of rivals you probably have a weird ability to find a danceable beat in graveyard living bird’s songs while simultaneously have a strange pattern of forming rivalries with the terminally ill!
If you feel like it’s been way too long since you’ve had a quiet night in you’re probably not deaf!
Buying a gun is probably not a good way to honor the contributions of the first ever varnish bottle elected to the senate, and frankly you should be spending more time questioning voting patterns than honoring the victors! Hell Yeah you should!
If you drink so much you vomit it’s probably still better than if you vomit so much you decide you may as well get drunk, and yet neither are as alarming as vomiting so much you decide to take up embroidery! I mean how old are you?
Sometimes the truth is tough to take, but someone probably should say it!
If you head-butt a tyrannosaurus your fear of horns is probably in direct contrast to your time-machine building skills!
If a tyrannosaurus gets its foot in gum someone probably packed really impractically for a time-travelling trip!
If Homer Simpson were here right now he’d probably say ‘d’oh’ because that’s his catchphrase, and therefore statistically speaking the single most likely thing that he would say at any random point of time!
Math is probably awesome, especially statistics!
If you built a spaceship out of knives that were used to stab people you should probably question the security at the police stations murder weapon storage facilities!
If you’re out in public and your outfit is made up entirely of contrasting stripe patterns you should probably have also included some sort of cloth or material!
If to you ‘happiness’ is defined as ‘a million little paper cuts’ then you should probably purchase an alternative dictionary!
If you regularly dance on the graves of rivals you probably have a weird ability to find a danceable beat in graveyard living bird’s songs while simultaneously have a strange pattern of forming rivalries with the terminally ill!
If you feel like it’s been way too long since you’ve had a quiet night in you’re probably not deaf!
Buying a gun is probably not a good way to honor the contributions of the first ever varnish bottle elected to the senate, and frankly you should be spending more time questioning voting patterns than honoring the victors! Hell Yeah you should!
If you drink so much you vomit it’s probably still better than if you vomit so much you decide you may as well get drunk, and yet neither are as alarming as vomiting so much you decide to take up embroidery! I mean how old are you?
Sometimes the truth is tough to take, but someone probably should say it!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Hey mirror, take a good look in the mirror, you asshole
If you ask me mirrors are the most elitist, discriminatory objects in the world. And the worst kind too. Think about it, mirrors spend by far the most time looking at the vain!
What kind of object decides to choose, of all people, vain people to look at? I’ll tell you what kind, assholes. Just the same kind of assholes who work for magazines claiming to empower women while simultaneously filling their pages with models and airbrushed lies! (Little known fact: The chief editor of Cosmopolitan Magazine was a mirror when she was a little girl – and she spent so much time looking at a really fucked-up Vain woman that the little mirror became this evil person! Can you believe how elitist mirrors have to be to not just look at the vain, but eventually take their form!)
Still we should know better. Mirrors have magic powers that we all see and choose to ignore. They have the power to make the non-stereotypically beautiful feel ugly. To make women cover their faces in overly gooped-up make-up that is in no way attractive to men. Of course we all know they are sexist too, spending way more time looking at women than men. Those bastards. Thank-god we don’t have mirrors in the workforce, or in politics or their would be sexism there too! God help us.
Note 1: I too have magic powers, I can look at a vast array of rooftops and know instinctively if I have ever burgled the house they roof, so don’t think for a second that this is an anti-magic blog
Note 2: I have never burgled a house, but please don’t think for one second that this in someway sullies my magic power, on the contrary I think it enhances it, you know cause I am ALWAYS right
Note 3: Sullied is a really fun word to say yet it is almost always used in a negative way ‘Sally sullied her salad by spilling it on a dog’ would be one extremely common sentence that takes advantage of the word sullied and is entirely negative, a dinner is ruined, a poor dog is covered and food, and a poor girls reputation and therefore potentially her entire life is destroyed. I think this is all unfair on the word sullied. I for one am going to use it positively for once
Note 4: Deidre sullied her would be attractors rape attempt by kneeing him in the balls
This is just the beginning. Mirrors have managed to sneakily find a way to push their way into almost every bathroom in the world. Those dirty fucks. Tell us why mirrors? What do you get out of looking at us naked all time, looking at us on the toilet, and looking at us sleeping on the floor covered in our own vomit after way too much drinking, and just making it short of getting to the toilet for a puke?
You just know they are getting together in secret and having conversations like this:
‘Hey Bill, how’s life?’
‘Really fucking good actually, the girl in my bathroom has started to stand-up to wipe, I get to see EVERYTHING’
‘Fantastic, hey get this Bill, you should have seen what this guy did in the bathroom I live in did the other day – he looked at me in Simon so he could take a look at his own asshole’
‘Wow what an awesome guy’.
You see I assume this sort of behavior is approved of in mirror society, or perhaps even loved. Or else why would they so encourage it. If mirrors wanted to spend their time looking at us completely dressed looking at perfectly average moments of human existence they would mostly hang out in hallways, or perhaps where the TV hangs out (an object that doesn’t care who you are, but if it does favors the lonely, and yet gets very little respect). But no, the mirror likes to be in the bathroom, that dirty, dirty little object.
Still it’s the love of the vain that makes me the most annoyed. Consider this – I was in the gym the other day and I was working my ass off, figuratively and literally, while spending time enjoying the visual delights of a beautiful blonde girl in a delightful pink and purple skin tight outfit, while her boyfriend simultaneously kept going up to the mirror and lifting up his shirt to look at his own abs!
That’s right! The mirror had an option to attract a sweaty longhaired scruffy guy, a hot young blond, or a douche-bag who wanted to look at his own abs, and it chose to look at the vain douche!!! Take a long hard look at yourself you vain loving snobby mirror scum! (You too blonde girl).
And now because it just occurred to me that I have written about things in your bathroom twice in a row, I segway to this:
Did you know that if you move every mountain on earth into a mountain of mountains then you probably have awesome mountain moving equipment!
On the other hand if you have a mountain in your bathroom you have big problems, although please don’t consult an interior decorator – some of them recommend MIRRORRSSSSSS!!!!!!!
What kind of object decides to choose, of all people, vain people to look at? I’ll tell you what kind, assholes. Just the same kind of assholes who work for magazines claiming to empower women while simultaneously filling their pages with models and airbrushed lies! (Little known fact: The chief editor of Cosmopolitan Magazine was a mirror when she was a little girl – and she spent so much time looking at a really fucked-up Vain woman that the little mirror became this evil person! Can you believe how elitist mirrors have to be to not just look at the vain, but eventually take their form!)
Still we should know better. Mirrors have magic powers that we all see and choose to ignore. They have the power to make the non-stereotypically beautiful feel ugly. To make women cover their faces in overly gooped-up make-up that is in no way attractive to men. Of course we all know they are sexist too, spending way more time looking at women than men. Those bastards. Thank-god we don’t have mirrors in the workforce, or in politics or their would be sexism there too! God help us.
Note 1: I too have magic powers, I can look at a vast array of rooftops and know instinctively if I have ever burgled the house they roof, so don’t think for a second that this is an anti-magic blog
Note 2: I have never burgled a house, but please don’t think for one second that this in someway sullies my magic power, on the contrary I think it enhances it, you know cause I am ALWAYS right
Note 3: Sullied is a really fun word to say yet it is almost always used in a negative way ‘Sally sullied her salad by spilling it on a dog’ would be one extremely common sentence that takes advantage of the word sullied and is entirely negative, a dinner is ruined, a poor dog is covered and food, and a poor girls reputation and therefore potentially her entire life is destroyed. I think this is all unfair on the word sullied. I for one am going to use it positively for once
Note 4: Deidre sullied her would be attractors rape attempt by kneeing him in the balls
This is just the beginning. Mirrors have managed to sneakily find a way to push their way into almost every bathroom in the world. Those dirty fucks. Tell us why mirrors? What do you get out of looking at us naked all time, looking at us on the toilet, and looking at us sleeping on the floor covered in our own vomit after way too much drinking, and just making it short of getting to the toilet for a puke?
You just know they are getting together in secret and having conversations like this:
‘Hey Bill, how’s life?’
‘Really fucking good actually, the girl in my bathroom has started to stand-up to wipe, I get to see EVERYTHING’
‘Fantastic, hey get this Bill, you should have seen what this guy did in the bathroom I live in did the other day – he looked at me in Simon so he could take a look at his own asshole’
‘Wow what an awesome guy’.
You see I assume this sort of behavior is approved of in mirror society, or perhaps even loved. Or else why would they so encourage it. If mirrors wanted to spend their time looking at us completely dressed looking at perfectly average moments of human existence they would mostly hang out in hallways, or perhaps where the TV hangs out (an object that doesn’t care who you are, but if it does favors the lonely, and yet gets very little respect). But no, the mirror likes to be in the bathroom, that dirty, dirty little object.
Still it’s the love of the vain that makes me the most annoyed. Consider this – I was in the gym the other day and I was working my ass off, figuratively and literally, while spending time enjoying the visual delights of a beautiful blonde girl in a delightful pink and purple skin tight outfit, while her boyfriend simultaneously kept going up to the mirror and lifting up his shirt to look at his own abs!
That’s right! The mirror had an option to attract a sweaty longhaired scruffy guy, a hot young blond, or a douche-bag who wanted to look at his own abs, and it chose to look at the vain douche!!! Take a long hard look at yourself you vain loving snobby mirror scum! (You too blonde girl).
And now because it just occurred to me that I have written about things in your bathroom twice in a row, I segway to this:
Did you know that if you move every mountain on earth into a mountain of mountains then you probably have awesome mountain moving equipment!
On the other hand if you have a mountain in your bathroom you have big problems, although please don’t consult an interior decorator – some of them recommend MIRRORRSSSSSS!!!!!!!
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Please squeeze my buttocks
After two nights of tiny amounts of sleep I had a lovely sleep last night, and I realized some things as I woke up this afternoon.
I love everything about waking up, except trying to convince my eyes to open, getting out from under warm blankets, and wondering why I slept cuddling a pair of my own underpants.
The phrase ‘too much cheese’ is the same as the Mormon god. While technically it might exist if you go around telling people you believe in it they’ll rightly call you crazy.
A Christmas tree is the same as a kite. Both are perfectly acceptable weapon choices in an ‘I hope I lose’ fight.
Nightmares are the same as broken fingernails, either one will give you an excuse to take the day off murder college. Yet still murder college? Come on guys, why not do something more positive and awesome at school, like a pottery course? Everyone enjoys misshaped mugs more than mug shots. Think about it please.
Women are like donuts. The holes may be the least delicious parts, but I’m still hungry! Mmmm gluttonous sexual innuendo, yummy.
Bricks are the same as spotlights. Throw either at a plane and either airport security has fucked up, or you can FLY!!! That’s so cool.
T-shirts are like babies. If you hang them on wire hangers you risk leaving them misshapen. Still who can be bothered buying nice cribs or wooden hangers when the wire ones are so often abundantly free?
Memories are like disco balls. If you spend hours looking at them from every possible angle there is a good chance you’re alone, drunk and extremely happy.
Regrets are like penises. They’re most fun after you’ve embarrassed yourself in efforts to hide them in warm moist holes.
I meant rabbit holes after a rainstorm!!! Get your minds out of those dirty places people. I mean regrets in vaginas? How would that even work?
And now a message from an older yet still vain tube of toothpaste:
Please, please start squeezing my buttocks, my breasts are sore and hollow while my bum is round and bulging, I don’t want my toothbrush to leave me for another tube.
Damn those fresh young plump untouched virgin toothpaste tubes. Selling their virginity in supermarkets and convenience stores. Full of unsullied white, green and blue striped guts just willing to spill them on any toothbrush who pays them even the slightest bit of attention. ‘In my day single colored guts were considered beautiful ok!’
I hear some of these young tubes will even spill their guts on various toothbrushes in their lives! Sometimes more than one toothbrush even on the same night! Where are the parents?
The damn young and their lack of crusty, gooey build up around their lips, ‘they’re signs of life and gaining wisdom you young whores!’
Sometimes I just wish my ass would be rolled up and destroyed, just so I could experience being top heavy and firm one more time before my time passes on. Is that wrong?
I love everything about waking up, except trying to convince my eyes to open, getting out from under warm blankets, and wondering why I slept cuddling a pair of my own underpants.
The phrase ‘too much cheese’ is the same as the Mormon god. While technically it might exist if you go around telling people you believe in it they’ll rightly call you crazy.
A Christmas tree is the same as a kite. Both are perfectly acceptable weapon choices in an ‘I hope I lose’ fight.
Nightmares are the same as broken fingernails, either one will give you an excuse to take the day off murder college. Yet still murder college? Come on guys, why not do something more positive and awesome at school, like a pottery course? Everyone enjoys misshaped mugs more than mug shots. Think about it please.
Women are like donuts. The holes may be the least delicious parts, but I’m still hungry! Mmmm gluttonous sexual innuendo, yummy.
Bricks are the same as spotlights. Throw either at a plane and either airport security has fucked up, or you can FLY!!! That’s so cool.
T-shirts are like babies. If you hang them on wire hangers you risk leaving them misshapen. Still who can be bothered buying nice cribs or wooden hangers when the wire ones are so often abundantly free?
Memories are like disco balls. If you spend hours looking at them from every possible angle there is a good chance you’re alone, drunk and extremely happy.
Regrets are like penises. They’re most fun after you’ve embarrassed yourself in efforts to hide them in warm moist holes.
I meant rabbit holes after a rainstorm!!! Get your minds out of those dirty places people. I mean regrets in vaginas? How would that even work?
And now a message from an older yet still vain tube of toothpaste:
Please, please start squeezing my buttocks, my breasts are sore and hollow while my bum is round and bulging, I don’t want my toothbrush to leave me for another tube.
Damn those fresh young plump untouched virgin toothpaste tubes. Selling their virginity in supermarkets and convenience stores. Full of unsullied white, green and blue striped guts just willing to spill them on any toothbrush who pays them even the slightest bit of attention. ‘In my day single colored guts were considered beautiful ok!’
I hear some of these young tubes will even spill their guts on various toothbrushes in their lives! Sometimes more than one toothbrush even on the same night! Where are the parents?
The damn young and their lack of crusty, gooey build up around their lips, ‘they’re signs of life and gaining wisdom you young whores!’
Sometimes I just wish my ass would be rolled up and destroyed, just so I could experience being top heavy and firm one more time before my time passes on. Is that wrong?
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Sometimes you just can't stay silent forever
Little known fact: If the ‘day’ was a flavor it would be a raspberry sorbet with a vanilla custard topping, although it would be utterly unpalatable due to ‘raspberry’s’ cruel, unreasonable and utterly arrogant use of the silent ‘p’, and frankly it just makes me mad.
Sometimes there is nothing I can do but sit around and think ‘this day would be delicious, if it wasn’t for that bloody p’, and other days I am having an awesome day not even thinking about raspberry and their lies when I will horribly come into contact with someone with a stutter trying to ask me something while being perfectly polite about it but end up saying ‘p-p-p-p-p please….’ And I’ll be like ‘great give the perfectly polite people afflictions like stutters while greedy con-artists get to walk around with the gift of the gab’ and then I’ll be all like ‘gift of the gab, what an ironically poorly crafted use of language we choose to use to suggest someone has been blessed in the ability to use their talking en like with voice en that’ and I’ll be so mad that a few weeks later while I am ranting on and on about the unfairness of it all and find myself repeating the ‘p-p-p-p-p please’ bit I’ll suddenly be like ‘raspberrys you scum, do you know where you’re silent ‘ps’ end up? I hope you die!’
Fear not though. For your days do not have to be affected as mine once were. Hell Yeah I did, I came up with a solution to the tragic situation of having your day ruined.
It’s quite simple really.
Anytime you feel like you are having a day that is being damaged in someway, raspberry related or not, merely abolish one awesome thing from your life and replace it with something even more awesome.
For example – last Thursday I was really pissed off because it turned out that I have to call a coffee table a ‘coffee’ table even if I never use it for resting mugs of coffee on them FORCING me to be prejudice against magazines, beer caps and for some reason as I speak a golf tee. That’s not nice at all. Frankly I could complain a lot about this but lets just say this – if we refuse to say ‘beer cap table’ for fear of insulting coffee what happens when the coffee gets all big-headed and haughty and we need to pull it down a notch and ask for beer caps help. I’ll tell you what happens – they WON’T help. That’s not the kind of world I want to live in.
So I am all pissed off and I remember my own remedy – abolish one awesome thing from my life and replace it with something even more awesome. So I did it.
That’s right, I abolished something awesome from my life – my regular trips to train stations to complain that their roof height policies are viciously prejudice against giants and that perhaps the fact we hardly ever see giants walking down city streets is due to their inability to fit onto the trains robbing us mere ‘normal’ sized humans of wonderful ‘I saw a giant the other day’ anecdotes.
And I replaced this with something even more awesome – re-enacting the nightly news from seventeen days ago for sick kids using only stick figure cartoons and the use of make up free mime, just to let the kids know how much better things have gotten since seventeen days ago. You know, still wars and stuff, but way more stick figure cartoons and make up free mime now. And the kids fucking love it – there all like ‘oh, gee, here comes that stick figure cartoon and mime with no use of make up guy’.
And you better believe it fixed my day right on up. Take that coffee!!!!!
By the way, speaking of prejudice I don’t think we will ever, ever abolish prejudice until we abolish the word ‘abolish’. It just sounds so damn delicious.
‘This chocolate vanilla cream cake comes abolished with a rich creamy caramel sauce’
Mmmm, abolish.
Also speaking of abolishment, you know that A-bomb? That’s the first ever bomb given a grade of ‘A’ before it had ever even been used. And then we wonder why it was such an arrogant asshole (both A words – coincidence yes, which is like an aberration, and the fact ‘aberration’ is an A word is one of the main signs that the dictionary is full of secret information – like ‘paidle’ – what the hell does that mean? Ohhhh conspiracy).
Do you know that before the A-bomb exploded it made Japanese kids give it their lunch money? Arrogant asshole!!!
Still we should have known. We should have predicted. We should have sensed. We should have seen. We should not have made the mistakes we made. We should have guessed from the beginning that bombs would turn out to be bad.
Sure it would have been easy to think that all those explosives, and the huge phallic form that they were built in the image of clearly stated they would only be used for charitable candy like goodness, but the clue that they held a secret was right there wasn’t it?
Bomb – SILENT B.
Bastards.
Sometimes there is nothing I can do but sit around and think ‘this day would be delicious, if it wasn’t for that bloody p’, and other days I am having an awesome day not even thinking about raspberry and their lies when I will horribly come into contact with someone with a stutter trying to ask me something while being perfectly polite about it but end up saying ‘p-p-p-p-p please….’ And I’ll be like ‘great give the perfectly polite people afflictions like stutters while greedy con-artists get to walk around with the gift of the gab’ and then I’ll be all like ‘gift of the gab, what an ironically poorly crafted use of language we choose to use to suggest someone has been blessed in the ability to use their talking en like with voice en that’ and I’ll be so mad that a few weeks later while I am ranting on and on about the unfairness of it all and find myself repeating the ‘p-p-p-p-p please’ bit I’ll suddenly be like ‘raspberrys you scum, do you know where you’re silent ‘ps’ end up? I hope you die!’
Fear not though. For your days do not have to be affected as mine once were. Hell Yeah I did, I came up with a solution to the tragic situation of having your day ruined.
It’s quite simple really.
Anytime you feel like you are having a day that is being damaged in someway, raspberry related or not, merely abolish one awesome thing from your life and replace it with something even more awesome.
For example – last Thursday I was really pissed off because it turned out that I have to call a coffee table a ‘coffee’ table even if I never use it for resting mugs of coffee on them FORCING me to be prejudice against magazines, beer caps and for some reason as I speak a golf tee. That’s not nice at all. Frankly I could complain a lot about this but lets just say this – if we refuse to say ‘beer cap table’ for fear of insulting coffee what happens when the coffee gets all big-headed and haughty and we need to pull it down a notch and ask for beer caps help. I’ll tell you what happens – they WON’T help. That’s not the kind of world I want to live in.
So I am all pissed off and I remember my own remedy – abolish one awesome thing from my life and replace it with something even more awesome. So I did it.
That’s right, I abolished something awesome from my life – my regular trips to train stations to complain that their roof height policies are viciously prejudice against giants and that perhaps the fact we hardly ever see giants walking down city streets is due to their inability to fit onto the trains robbing us mere ‘normal’ sized humans of wonderful ‘I saw a giant the other day’ anecdotes.
And I replaced this with something even more awesome – re-enacting the nightly news from seventeen days ago for sick kids using only stick figure cartoons and the use of make up free mime, just to let the kids know how much better things have gotten since seventeen days ago. You know, still wars and stuff, but way more stick figure cartoons and make up free mime now. And the kids fucking love it – there all like ‘oh, gee, here comes that stick figure cartoon and mime with no use of make up guy’.
And you better believe it fixed my day right on up. Take that coffee!!!!!
By the way, speaking of prejudice I don’t think we will ever, ever abolish prejudice until we abolish the word ‘abolish’. It just sounds so damn delicious.
‘This chocolate vanilla cream cake comes abolished with a rich creamy caramel sauce’
Mmmm, abolish.
Also speaking of abolishment, you know that A-bomb? That’s the first ever bomb given a grade of ‘A’ before it had ever even been used. And then we wonder why it was such an arrogant asshole (both A words – coincidence yes, which is like an aberration, and the fact ‘aberration’ is an A word is one of the main signs that the dictionary is full of secret information – like ‘paidle’ – what the hell does that mean? Ohhhh conspiracy).
Do you know that before the A-bomb exploded it made Japanese kids give it their lunch money? Arrogant asshole!!!
Still we should have known. We should have predicted. We should have sensed. We should have seen. We should not have made the mistakes we made. We should have guessed from the beginning that bombs would turn out to be bad.
Sure it would have been easy to think that all those explosives, and the huge phallic form that they were built in the image of clearly stated they would only be used for charitable candy like goodness, but the clue that they held a secret was right there wasn’t it?
Bomb – SILENT B.
Bastards.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Notes from a guy with sex goals
Hi I'm Warren,
I was twenty-nine when I lost my virginity, which for a bachelor in the 1930s was quite young. The young lady’s name was Angela, and rumour had it she’d already slept with three people, and she was only forty-two! It sure was neat to get the chance to meet such a slut to help me become a man.
Barbra came into my life three years later and we made love after only dating for seven months. I was starting to think I was quite the stud (which back then was a term reserved for horses but I was very large in the nose so I certainly felt I had satisfactorily complimented myself).
After Barbra dumped me for being ‘shit in bed’ (how can one be excrement in bed? that never made sense to me) I found comfort in the arms of Cindy, all 400lbs of them (I only weighed the arms, I couldn’t get the whole body on the scales, and besides I didn’t want to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable about her weight). Keep in mind in those days men seeked curvier women, and when they turned us down the morbidly obese were the 116th next best thing, right between rabbits (hard to catch) and trees (splinters, ouch).
Sadly Cindy died during the act (sadly for her private cheese dealer). And I found myself at the ripe old age of thirty seven (life expectancy was fifty two then, and I never was an optimist) and I was in a speakeasy one night when I optimistically started chatting to a fine beauty named Diedra. She of course laughed in my face then instructed a random man in the vicinity to beat me to near death, which he did with the glee of a school girl, and as I lay in hospital for the next two years (there was not yet a cure for fifty broken bones) I had plenty of time to think and it occurred to me that had sweet Diedra responded positively to my attempts to woo her, my first four ladies I had made love to would have had first names beginning with A, then B, C & D!
It was a mighty fine thought, as I am sure you can imagine (Apologies if you cannot, I understand that not every man has had such success with the ladies as me).
It was such a nice thought in fact that it inspired a pact (Little known fact: all pacts a factual). I pacted that I would sleep with exactly twenty six ladies in my life, I know, a scandalous sum that I am sure no other man would dare dream of, but it seemed fated (pacts are also fated, unless you make a pact to do something like start the day with sit-ups that’s not fated its stupid) and these twenty six women would have names starting with the letters A through Z. It would be my greatest triumph (and only triumph, triumphs were difficult in those days).
That’s how I found myself making love to the beautiful Diana, the one armed quadriplegic nurse who had recently had a bomb land on her in World War II (Although we called it ‘that shooty thing’ at the time) (Oh and for your information the burns only made her more beautiful so shame on you).
We met in the rehabilitation ward of the hospital and when I asked if she would like to make love she replied “I guess, I mean its not like I have any feeling in my body, so I wont feel it” she sure did have a great sense of humour for a war victim.
Ethel came a few months latter when by chance I was visiting my grandmother in the old folks home and Ethel was in there visiting her daughter. After that things got lean for a while, I mean ‘F’ names were hard to come by in those days. Not like today with your fancy Felicitys and the like, in those days people respected their children enough not to give them crazy crap names! (Sorry for my language, but it makes me mad).
But things turned around thirty odd years later. I was drafted into Vietnam and the army refused to believe that I was seventy four and that there had been a clerical error and sent me over where I had the pleasure of fornicating with a prostitute named Fung.
Now you would think making love for the first time in thirty years would make me happy, but it turned out that these ‘prostitutes’ didn’t only exist in Vietnam and were in fact back in America also and I could have worked my way through the remaining letters with a crazy week in Vegas and spent my life seeking normal relationships or even a wife. But you know what? In old age you realize there is no point holding on to regrets, you have bigger things to worry about, such as your impending death.
Sex goals sure are great.
I was twenty-nine when I lost my virginity, which for a bachelor in the 1930s was quite young. The young lady’s name was Angela, and rumour had it she’d already slept with three people, and she was only forty-two! It sure was neat to get the chance to meet such a slut to help me become a man.
Barbra came into my life three years later and we made love after only dating for seven months. I was starting to think I was quite the stud (which back then was a term reserved for horses but I was very large in the nose so I certainly felt I had satisfactorily complimented myself).
After Barbra dumped me for being ‘shit in bed’ (how can one be excrement in bed? that never made sense to me) I found comfort in the arms of Cindy, all 400lbs of them (I only weighed the arms, I couldn’t get the whole body on the scales, and besides I didn’t want to do anything to make her feel uncomfortable about her weight). Keep in mind in those days men seeked curvier women, and when they turned us down the morbidly obese were the 116th next best thing, right between rabbits (hard to catch) and trees (splinters, ouch).
Sadly Cindy died during the act (sadly for her private cheese dealer). And I found myself at the ripe old age of thirty seven (life expectancy was fifty two then, and I never was an optimist) and I was in a speakeasy one night when I optimistically started chatting to a fine beauty named Diedra. She of course laughed in my face then instructed a random man in the vicinity to beat me to near death, which he did with the glee of a school girl, and as I lay in hospital for the next two years (there was not yet a cure for fifty broken bones) I had plenty of time to think and it occurred to me that had sweet Diedra responded positively to my attempts to woo her, my first four ladies I had made love to would have had first names beginning with A, then B, C & D!
It was a mighty fine thought, as I am sure you can imagine (Apologies if you cannot, I understand that not every man has had such success with the ladies as me).
It was such a nice thought in fact that it inspired a pact (Little known fact: all pacts a factual). I pacted that I would sleep with exactly twenty six ladies in my life, I know, a scandalous sum that I am sure no other man would dare dream of, but it seemed fated (pacts are also fated, unless you make a pact to do something like start the day with sit-ups that’s not fated its stupid) and these twenty six women would have names starting with the letters A through Z. It would be my greatest triumph (and only triumph, triumphs were difficult in those days).
That’s how I found myself making love to the beautiful Diana, the one armed quadriplegic nurse who had recently had a bomb land on her in World War II (Although we called it ‘that shooty thing’ at the time) (Oh and for your information the burns only made her more beautiful so shame on you).
We met in the rehabilitation ward of the hospital and when I asked if she would like to make love she replied “I guess, I mean its not like I have any feeling in my body, so I wont feel it” she sure did have a great sense of humour for a war victim.
Ethel came a few months latter when by chance I was visiting my grandmother in the old folks home and Ethel was in there visiting her daughter. After that things got lean for a while, I mean ‘F’ names were hard to come by in those days. Not like today with your fancy Felicitys and the like, in those days people respected their children enough not to give them crazy crap names! (Sorry for my language, but it makes me mad).
But things turned around thirty odd years later. I was drafted into Vietnam and the army refused to believe that I was seventy four and that there had been a clerical error and sent me over where I had the pleasure of fornicating with a prostitute named Fung.
Now you would think making love for the first time in thirty years would make me happy, but it turned out that these ‘prostitutes’ didn’t only exist in Vietnam and were in fact back in America also and I could have worked my way through the remaining letters with a crazy week in Vegas and spent my life seeking normal relationships or even a wife. But you know what? In old age you realize there is no point holding on to regrets, you have bigger things to worry about, such as your impending death.
Sex goals sure are great.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
An easy way to a super fun evening
I walked out into the street and looked up at the sky. It was not quite a full moon, but it would be within the next couple of nights, and I couldn’t wait. I mean waiting would be pretty stupid; it was going happen whether I stood and waited regardless, so what kind of moron would wait. I honestly think if you COULD wait I’d question your sanity. That should be like the first test they ask someone in therapy:
‘Looking forward to anything?’
‘Yes my nana is getting out of the hospital soon’
‘Can you wait?’
Answer one
‘No I can’t wait’
Diagnosises
‘That is perfectly normal
Answer two
‘Yes, I plan on waiting right outside her door’
Diagnosises
‘It’s your nana, not your wife, you’re really creeping me out man’
The moon was big that day. I have never quite figured out why the moon is different sizes, are we closer to it at some times? And if so why doesn’t the gravitational pull make it so we start floating around, cause that would be cool. We’d be all like floaty and that, and people would be like, whatcha up to, and you’d be all like floating man, and they’d be like me too, it’s really creeping me out man’.
‘Dave?’ I said to myself, to distract myself so I wouldn’t burst into tears from the knowledge that I would never get to float.
‘Yes David’ I replied
‘When you pull your pants down and show your bum to other people, why do they call that mooning them? It doesn’t looking anything fucking like the moon, the moon doesn’t have a big line down the middle for one thing, and if it does have cheeks they aren’t soft, yet firm and remarkably fondleable!’
‘I don’t think fondleable is real word David’
‘Of course it is, anything you can do you are able to able, readable, likeable, murderable, unconstitutionable’
‘Now your clearly just making words up, ‘likeable’, yeah right’
‘You are so unlikeable when you nitpick like this’
‘That’s another thing, what the hell is a nit, and how do you pick it?’
‘A nit is like a useless or minor thought and you pick it when you won’t let it drop you nitwit’
‘Ok, but wit is having a speedy ability to find the humor in something, but to pick is bad, like pick your nose or pick a scab, how can nitwit and nitpicker both be insults!!’
‘Picking isn’t always bad, what about picking up a copy of that new book you wanted, or picking up your friend at the airport, those are perfectly positive examples of positive picking!’
‘So you want me to pick you up at the airport, is that what you are getting at, trying to pick at my soft spot so I end up the bad guy if I don’t’
‘I am ‘you’, you nitwit, how the hell can I pick myself up at the airport’
‘Shut up Dave’
‘No you shut up David’
‘Wait, am I Dave or David, I haven’t been paying close enough attention to the order of our conversation’
‘Actually I don’t know, I haven’t been paying attention either’
‘That’s so typical of you’
‘What?’
‘Not paying attention!’
‘Fuck you, you didn’t pay attention either, you always do that, shit on me for doing something you do too’
‘Why are you always so bloody defensive’
‘Screw you Davey, yeah I said it, Daaaavvveeey’
‘You’re so immature’
‘Oh I’m immature, I’m immature, maybe I’ll pull your pants down and show everyone your penis, how immature would that be’
‘That’s your penis too you know’
‘I know that, actually part of me kind of wants to show everyone my penis, you know, just so people know, remove the mystery and things suddenly become more accessible’
‘You and your weird theories’
‘That’s not a theory. A theory is an untested idea in which the outcome could go in different directions, mine is a minority desire which I may or may not act upon one day’
‘Fuck, fucking off’
Just then a man walked past
‘Are you ok sir’? He asked
‘We’re trying to look at the moon here, you nitwit, go bother someone else’
He walked away looking confused and for some reason said 'you're really creeping me out man', and Davey and I talked on into the night.
It was the best nearly full moon ever.
‘Looking forward to anything?’
‘Yes my nana is getting out of the hospital soon’
‘Can you wait?’
Answer one
‘No I can’t wait’
Diagnosises
‘That is perfectly normal
Answer two
‘Yes, I plan on waiting right outside her door’
Diagnosises
‘It’s your nana, not your wife, you’re really creeping me out man’
The moon was big that day. I have never quite figured out why the moon is different sizes, are we closer to it at some times? And if so why doesn’t the gravitational pull make it so we start floating around, cause that would be cool. We’d be all like floaty and that, and people would be like, whatcha up to, and you’d be all like floating man, and they’d be like me too, it’s really creeping me out man’.
‘Dave?’ I said to myself, to distract myself so I wouldn’t burst into tears from the knowledge that I would never get to float.
‘Yes David’ I replied
‘When you pull your pants down and show your bum to other people, why do they call that mooning them? It doesn’t looking anything fucking like the moon, the moon doesn’t have a big line down the middle for one thing, and if it does have cheeks they aren’t soft, yet firm and remarkably fondleable!’
‘I don’t think fondleable is real word David’
‘Of course it is, anything you can do you are able to able, readable, likeable, murderable, unconstitutionable’
‘Now your clearly just making words up, ‘likeable’, yeah right’
‘You are so unlikeable when you nitpick like this’
‘That’s another thing, what the hell is a nit, and how do you pick it?’
‘A nit is like a useless or minor thought and you pick it when you won’t let it drop you nitwit’
‘Ok, but wit is having a speedy ability to find the humor in something, but to pick is bad, like pick your nose or pick a scab, how can nitwit and nitpicker both be insults!!’
‘Picking isn’t always bad, what about picking up a copy of that new book you wanted, or picking up your friend at the airport, those are perfectly positive examples of positive picking!’
‘So you want me to pick you up at the airport, is that what you are getting at, trying to pick at my soft spot so I end up the bad guy if I don’t’
‘I am ‘you’, you nitwit, how the hell can I pick myself up at the airport’
‘Shut up Dave’
‘No you shut up David’
‘Wait, am I Dave or David, I haven’t been paying close enough attention to the order of our conversation’
‘Actually I don’t know, I haven’t been paying attention either’
‘That’s so typical of you’
‘What?’
‘Not paying attention!’
‘Fuck you, you didn’t pay attention either, you always do that, shit on me for doing something you do too’
‘Why are you always so bloody defensive’
‘Screw you Davey, yeah I said it, Daaaavvveeey’
‘You’re so immature’
‘Oh I’m immature, I’m immature, maybe I’ll pull your pants down and show everyone your penis, how immature would that be’
‘That’s your penis too you know’
‘I know that, actually part of me kind of wants to show everyone my penis, you know, just so people know, remove the mystery and things suddenly become more accessible’
‘You and your weird theories’
‘That’s not a theory. A theory is an untested idea in which the outcome could go in different directions, mine is a minority desire which I may or may not act upon one day’
‘Fuck, fucking off’
Just then a man walked past
‘Are you ok sir’? He asked
‘We’re trying to look at the moon here, you nitwit, go bother someone else’
He walked away looking confused and for some reason said 'you're really creeping me out man', and Davey and I talked on into the night.
It was the best nearly full moon ever.
Dave's Dam Days - this milk kicks ass
Dave has interesting days, this is part of one of them
So check this video out, it has milk AND addiction cure!!!!
So check this video out, it has milk AND addiction cure!!!!
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