like touching yourself with a tazer set on “burn baby burn!”

alright ye little wee corn children of the price is right! ye who would
unsettle the british colonies with yer paris hiltons and nicole richies
blowup dolls, yer lubricant of stars and yer ghost busters labels
flyzappers! ye, are the scurge of the world, you ungratefule, self
centered wee little scottish terrors…terrirers… bill clinton!

now…
i dont have beer, but i dont have cham pog ney. or more simply wine!
which now that i think about it has more of an effect the al gores
version of the price is right…which would somehow include a parady of
bush administration, dick cheneys invitation to a peewee touch football
game hosted by micheal jackson and the plastic surgery five. oh yes…
were running out the gates of this little bitch ON FIRE!!!! YEEE HAWWW!
and i just want to lube the gears of this little terror on the net by
saying the following to the closed minded masses that is the dominican
republic. feck off! yer not doing a bit of damned good ye wined stained
hick billys!

i say hick billes because there are three types
of people in the world (andn o offense to friends of mine that are from
the dominion of dominican repluc. love ya, squeeze ya in the right
place, and have fun with ya allllll night long!

in the mean
time, ive got a headache the size of lord crabby pants mc cormick… i
cant stop thinking about south park at the moment, because its just the
right hting to say after some of the fucking shit ive posted on this
blog of minds… that would make obama turn whiter then micheal
jacksons sister ofter her top was “accidentaly ripped off.” wow. and to
think… she just flashed over 12,000 horny old codgers in there
hawaiin shorts, socks and sandals, and sunglases wondering where the
fuck is the peta group. cause that poodle got pwned… hehe….now were
getting somewhere.

gates of the underworld rejoice! and then
promptly run in terror as you relaize your going to the catholic
religion to get felt up by father brian andthen tossed into the touch
football game hosted by micheal jackson and the plastic surgery five.
and then, just for the fuck of it. youll be adopted by angelina jolie
and be parented by the only woman to make out with ehr brother, sever
ties with her father because hes wondering when hes gonna get some. and
after five years youll get a call from adam baldwin stating that hes
flying over to ireland to straighten your ass out, because according to
him, yourn othing but a distinguishly disgusting little pig with no
manners at all. and even after that, youll still earn your pay by
working for the devil himself. thats right, im tlaking about jay z and
fifty cent combined. donald trump. HA! didnt see that one coming did
you????

ok, enough about the small talk, like i said before,
ive done some and writen some dumb shit in my life. and the worst is
yet to come? why? i dont know… i dont know… i dont know where im
going to go in cocomo. i love that song as well as, “and i ran… i ran
so far away… and i ran… i ran to get away… so i run away..” not
to mention, “if you like penis colada’s… and like getting fucked in
the rain…. then youll love.. getting fucking by ghost rider again!”

speaking
of really really awful movies… has anyone seen peter jacksons king
kong? or was it the one about the midget who has to destroy a rin in a
week or his ex wife will send hordes of orcs to destroy him? sounds
like a parady of spidermans honey moon.

how do you feel? to
treat me like you do? do you knowtice the world around you? how do you
feel? i love this song im listening to right now?

how about
them little monsters up in the american slasher buero? hah! you thought
i was oging to rip on the asb? didnt you?! well your wrong! again! hah!
i fool you again! like anna nicole smiths autopsy report, i will reveal
the true name of my babys daddy… just as soon as jesus comes back
from the kingdom of heaven to take away your money proclaiming that it
will help the lord…and the preachers vampire choir boy problem. cause
they suck…your blood. like al gores inconveinnet truth. and the olson
tiwns eating problems.

or tony danzas drunken slobber fest
with a bad replica of tony danza. he loves himself too much. you ever
wonder why he smiles all the time? its like hes not even human. hes
just a sex god. he like “im impotent! no more!” and he gets harders to
make soft then an al quida crack head with sever leprisy.

amongst
other thoughts in my head that make absolutely no sense to the human
mind whatso ever. isnt there areal reason that donald trump lost his
wig…oh…that his actual hair? i did not know that? i just thought he
superglued a run over possum to his head and called it hair.

in
other news… these fires are making baking a batch of cookies harder
to do then thinking about martha stewart and paris hilton as cell
mates. ones decorating the place while the other just wants to get out
and land her ass back in again. there isnt much to do these days
besides, sit back, smoke a ciggerette and wonder what happened to our
hero the marbollo man? he died of lung cancer… and that made everyone
sad.

speaking of thel ovely little disease called cancer. i
cant think of a worse death then having your body make more cells then
it actualy needs. and thats another hting ive been wondering about.
vaginas. no seriosly, for one of the longest moments in my life…
namely ten minutes, ive actualy wondered about how big they actualy
were. i mean, weve all studied the diagrames right? or namely bad porn
where it just doesnt show anything besides the breasts… fun as they
are to look at. but seriosly, besisdes the effects and what not of the
females period and what not. and thats got to be more uncomfortable
then leaving evidense that something did happen in roswell new mexico.
actualy they did see aliens… but it turned out to be micheal jackson
standing infront of a white light with timmy bending down to pick up a
penny in front of him.

where the hell was i? oh yeah, periods.
the dreaded time of the month where milk sales at the local grocery
store are actualy higher then the kmk between events. its actualy
always facinated me. i mean, do women just gradualy get used to the
pain when the egg is pssing into the uterian wall? as well as the
hormones? which kinda made me wonder if all the female patients in
insane asylums who had shcizophrenia were just on there ugly week when
they went to the dark side of the mind.

and child birth. oh
yes, i knew i would eventualy get to this subject faster then judgito
decision that oj didnt do it with the candle stick in the kitchen with
the professor. at this point im feeling the effects of the wine… and
bhampagne, and the fruit blend. all at the same time. i wonder how many
pages ive written…. anyways. childbirth, that miraculous moment in
time where the mother blames everything on the father… including the
following:

1. lightbulbs
2. monogamy
3. evolution
4. the kids next door movies
5. micheal jacksons abilities to touch children around the globe… in all the wrong places….
6. the light bulbs again
7. the fact that apples do fall on the floor.
8. there own periods.
9. adam baldwin still being in acting.
10. what god meant by the terms “legal prostitution….prosicrution.”

i
actualy do wonder how many pages ive written. well… ive got to get
dressed and out the door. cause ive written this whole thing in nothing
but a robe and my underwear. and i didnt even think wine had that much
of an effect on lil ol me. tee hee!

peace bitches!

and remember. if you dont like what ive written… then … then… your sober.

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