Monday, November 5, 2007
I'm moving to Wordpress. Peace out.
My hatred for blogger can not be expressed through mere words, so I am leaving. Consider me a Wordpress whore from now on. You can find me over here. A new blog is already up. I'll be trying to make it look pretty and all that good shit, but for now it's just a fugly plain blog. I dolled it up with some pictures of me. Feel free to touch your self.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Virus protection software my ass!
Holy Hell! Can you imagine having four thousand red hot shards of glass shoved down your pee hole? Well that is what my last week has been like. I have had no internet. Yes, I repeat: no fucking internet. Little baby e-jesus must be punishing me for looking at dolphin porn or something, but whatever happened we got a nasty virus that completely crashed our computer. COMPLETELY!
We rebooted the shit with the assistance of a humorless but very helpful Indian dude named Raj, entirely erasing everything on the computer in the process, and the virus is still shutting us down after only a few minutes of computing. Lame. The whole bastard may be shot forever. And the best part is that my brother, who incidentally recognised the virus the minute I told him I thought something was up, is blaming me for all of the problems since I'm the only one who looks at porn. (right) Yet he found Mr. I. Blodolfins video on the first search. Like I'm the perv, dammit!
Anyway, I may not post much until we get this resolved. And that could be ages. And apparently once you start bloggin it's like some sort of crack/heroin hybrid that you want to shoot up in between your toes. I spend half my waking time thinking "This moment would make a great blog entry! It's so colorful and entertaining and rich powerful sultans would give me their daughters in exchange for hearing me weave my tale. I wonder how I would word it ... blah, blah, blah." Pretty much it has made me even more conceited and self centered than I was before, and that's horrible and awesome at the same time.
I have a wicked awesome story book full of adventures from the Halloween season and pictures to boot! (if you want to check all of them out they are up on my myspace page) I will be posting some of that craziness as soon as I can. Until then let me whet your appetite with a little story about what happened to me only moments ago as I came into my room to try and use the computer briefly to log on and tell you all I can't log on. (I'm amazed I've gotten this far without getting kicked off! Hot damn, maybe this shit worked!)
I had just come out of the shower and smoked a cigarette on our back porch when I sauntered into the hallway to boot up the old Dell Shitbot 4000. As I reached the point where I would normally turn right into my room, I noticed 1.) my brother and sister-in-law's room had the door wide open in stead of slightly cracked so their geriatric cat could get it's walker in and out, and 2.) my light was on.
As these facts slowly ticked through my tired synapses I rounded the corner of my room to be greeted by none other than my drunk ass naked brother laying in the fetal position on my bed aiming his taint at me in some sort of passive aggressive mind game. Of course he was passed the fuck out, and probably meant no harm by it, but this did not stop me from vomiting in my mouth a little and quickly weirding the fuck out. I attempted to wake Sami's drunk ass up to come get her naked husband off my sacred sleep zone, but to no avail. It was up to me.
I walked in with a work shirt between me and his protruding balls and covered him up. Then I tapped him and whispered his name. Not much reaction there. So I slapped him on the ass and yelled his name. He responded by tucking my shirt right in between his legs, where I'm assuming his dick was, although I had no visual verification, thank little baby e-jesus! I repeated the ass-slapping and name-yelling for a few minutes until I finally convinced him to get out of my G.D. bed. (you have to be careful how close you get, he gets punchy when he's woken up drunk) He proceeded to stand up, losing the unlucky work shirt, walk to the computer, mumble for a few minutes, and walk right back to his bed.
I was tempted to go find the camera and fuck with him, but I had seen enough for one night and closed their room up behind him. And so I find myself here, once again on the blessed interwebs of glory, sharing what is my life with random passers by. Next time I get on I hope to have some of my pictures loaded up to where I can post them bitches in this blog so I can tell you all about how kick ass I am around Halloween, and maybe even some serious emotional shit. Who knows? Seriously though, I have to get it off my chest soon or I'm gonna blow. Anyway e-lurkers, peace and chicken grease for now. Have a very spooky Thanksgiving or whatever comes next on the calendar. And have fun sleeping in this weekend! Fall back motha fuckas!
We rebooted the shit with the assistance of a humorless but very helpful Indian dude named Raj, entirely erasing everything on the computer in the process, and the virus is still shutting us down after only a few minutes of computing. Lame. The whole bastard may be shot forever. And the best part is that my brother, who incidentally recognised the virus the minute I told him I thought something was up, is blaming me for all of the problems since I'm the only one who looks at porn. (right) Yet he found Mr. I. Blodolfins video on the first search. Like I'm the perv, dammit!
Anyway, I may not post much until we get this resolved. And that could be ages. And apparently once you start bloggin it's like some sort of crack/heroin hybrid that you want to shoot up in between your toes. I spend half my waking time thinking "This moment would make a great blog entry! It's so colorful and entertaining and rich powerful sultans would give me their daughters in exchange for hearing me weave my tale. I wonder how I would word it ... blah, blah, blah." Pretty much it has made me even more conceited and self centered than I was before, and that's horrible and awesome at the same time.
I have a wicked awesome story book full of adventures from the Halloween season and pictures to boot! (if you want to check all of them out they are up on my myspace page) I will be posting some of that craziness as soon as I can. Until then let me whet your appetite with a little story about what happened to me only moments ago as I came into my room to try and use the computer briefly to log on and tell you all I can't log on. (I'm amazed I've gotten this far without getting kicked off! Hot damn, maybe this shit worked!)
I had just come out of the shower and smoked a cigarette on our back porch when I sauntered into the hallway to boot up the old Dell Shitbot 4000. As I reached the point where I would normally turn right into my room, I noticed 1.) my brother and sister-in-law's room had the door wide open in stead of slightly cracked so their geriatric cat could get it's walker in and out, and 2.) my light was on.
As these facts slowly ticked through my tired synapses I rounded the corner of my room to be greeted by none other than my drunk ass naked brother laying in the fetal position on my bed aiming his taint at me in some sort of passive aggressive mind game. Of course he was passed the fuck out, and probably meant no harm by it, but this did not stop me from vomiting in my mouth a little and quickly weirding the fuck out. I attempted to wake Sami's drunk ass up to come get her naked husband off my sacred sleep zone, but to no avail. It was up to me.
I walked in with a work shirt between me and his protruding balls and covered him up. Then I tapped him and whispered his name. Not much reaction there. So I slapped him on the ass and yelled his name. He responded by tucking my shirt right in between his legs, where I'm assuming his dick was, although I had no visual verification, thank little baby e-jesus! I repeated the ass-slapping and name-yelling for a few minutes until I finally convinced him to get out of my G.D. bed. (you have to be careful how close you get, he gets punchy when he's woken up drunk) He proceeded to stand up, losing the unlucky work shirt, walk to the computer, mumble for a few minutes, and walk right back to his bed.
I was tempted to go find the camera and fuck with him, but I had seen enough for one night and closed their room up behind him. And so I find myself here, once again on the blessed interwebs of glory, sharing what is my life with random passers by. Next time I get on I hope to have some of my pictures loaded up to where I can post them bitches in this blog so I can tell you all about how kick ass I am around Halloween, and maybe even some serious emotional shit. Who knows? Seriously though, I have to get it off my chest soon or I'm gonna blow. Anyway e-lurkers, peace and chicken grease for now. Have a very spooky Thanksgiving or whatever comes next on the calendar. And have fun sleeping in this weekend! Fall back motha fuckas!
Friday, October 26, 2007
Google needs a rough ass raping from yours truely.
If I stop posting for a while it's because I'm in prison for traveling to California and going on a bloody rampage through the google headquarters killing everyone I see in the hopes of lucking out and offing the code monkey who is responsible for all the god damn mother fucking bull shit errors I ekeep getting with this ass raping retarded software! Fuck you Blogger, and fuck your stupid mom! Just let me load a fucking blogroll without giving me obscure and retarded errors that defy repair! Or at least let me ask for some god damn help from the help section without fucking me in my tight virgin ass with your razor sharp code failures of death! How does the best fucking search engine, the unofficial overlord of the mother furcking inter-fucking-net get a blog program with so many cock smoking problems? Why? What the fuck is wrong with those incompetent bastards? Seruiously? Gahhhhhhh! I'mm so pissed I can't even go jack off to calm down. I can't even drink to calm down. And this typing is just reminding me how their retarded software has it's salty unwashed cock halfway down this helpless blog authors throat! Fuck you with no lube on a hot day in the sun with nothing to drink but my manlicious jism!
And on top of all that I might not even get to go to the fucking Halloween party I've been preparing for for nine mother fucking months. God hates me. I hate Google. Google hates me back, but better. Sorry readers, today you get no laughs, only empty threats towards a faceless corporate monster. I'm gonna go cry for a while and maybe polish my gun and fantasize. Have a nice fucking evening, or morning or whatever. Fuck it.
And on top of all that I might not even get to go to the fucking Halloween party I've been preparing for for nine mother fucking months. God hates me. I hate Google. Google hates me back, but better. Sorry readers, today you get no laughs, only empty threats towards a faceless corporate monster. I'm gonna go cry for a while and maybe polish my gun and fantasize. Have a nice fucking evening, or morning or whatever. Fuck it.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
My boss told me I would be allowed to come in an hour and a half late if I did so riding a donkey and dressed like Juan Valdez. One secretary showed me a picture on her phone which turned out to be a huge black cock. The other secretary brought in an Adam & Eve catalog and filled up a condom with water and milk duds to set on our lunch table. One sales man started a conversation about butt raping dead babies and throwing them in your attic, while looking at the autopsy photo's of dead celebrities. The other told a lengthy story about tripping on acid and setting off a fire cracker in a fancy steak joint, then asked me if I knew where to get any ecstasy. The district manager hung his head and went outside for a smoke. He tolerates us. When he was gone I told everyone about the dolphin porn.
That's what my job is like. And that's the office, not even the yard. In fact, the office fuckers are wilder than the power tool jockeys. On a side note I had my first run in with some of the locals in our yard. I now have three big ass fire ant stings on my right leg. I must be more sensitive than normal folks, cause the one on my inner thigh has a swollen red blotch around it almost three inches wide. Little bitches, I'm busting out the poison tomorrow and going hunting just for fun.
I'm almost finished with the last piece for my Halloween costume, the beard/mustache. I found that I suck at sewing. Go fig. I am still debating whether I really want to shave my head to match the character or not. I would like to go all the way and look really bad ass. But I have this girl is coming to town, and I've been talking to her for a few weeks, and she'll be with me at the parties I am going to be dressed up at. I think it might weird her out if I shave it all the way. Cause she's used to me with a buzz cut, but shaving your head changes your look a lot. And I'm trying to get my dick wet, you know? It's been a while, and good ol' Stroker Ace is getting restless. I don't want him pissed off at me. (he's my peen, if you didn't catch that)
I decided to switch his name. I named him Rod Thunder with my last serious woman, and I think it's time for a changing of the guard. I was gonna go with Thor Maximus or Brutus Von Goodmotion or Docor Swordley Longfellow or something like that, but Stroker Ace has the double whammy of being a character in a Charlie Daniels Band song, and sounding masturbatory, which is both comical and accurate. If any of you have a really good cock name, throw it out there and I'll take it into consideration.
Speaking of input, does anyone know how to get up a fucking blogroll. I think I know what I'm supposed to do, but blogger keeps giving me some sort of retarded page error whenever I try and add an element to my page layout. I was hoping there might be some sort of html code add on to do it, like they have for standalone players on myspace. (which represents the full extent of my experience with html code) it's pissing me off and I'm just about ready to switch my blog over to wordpress, cause they look cooler.
Anyway, I asked this biker dude at my AA class if having trouble sleeping was a common problem for people who were first trying to quit drinking. He gave me one of his deep gravelly chuckles and this is sort of how it all went:
Me: "Hey Mike, do lots of people have a hard time sleeping when they first quit drinking?"
Mike: (deep gravelly chuckle) "Yeah, it's nothing to worry about, most everyone does. I'll bet you've been having some pretty crazy dreams too. Lots of nightmares and dreams about drinking a lot?"
Me: (somewhat surprised at his entirely accurate prediction) "Uh ... yeah. They've been pretty gnarly lately. I hadn't really thought much of it, but they definitely are more frequent and way more intense."
Mike: "Take some Tylenol PM or whatever. Just make sure to follow the instructions. Don't take four and end up abusing them."
Me: (thinking about last night when I took four) "Yeah, no problem. I never take those things. I don't even take asprin when I'm sick."
And that last part was true. I hate taking medicine and going to doctors and most everything involved in not dieing from being a healt-o-phobe. But that's a different topic for a different post. Right now I have to go smoke one last cigarette before my old friend Tylenol PM kicks my ass. I can feel him sneaking up from behind.
That's what my job is like. And that's the office, not even the yard. In fact, the office fuckers are wilder than the power tool jockeys. On a side note I had my first run in with some of the locals in our yard. I now have three big ass fire ant stings on my right leg. I must be more sensitive than normal folks, cause the one on my inner thigh has a swollen red blotch around it almost three inches wide. Little bitches, I'm busting out the poison tomorrow and going hunting just for fun.
I'm almost finished with the last piece for my Halloween costume, the beard/mustache. I found that I suck at sewing. Go fig. I am still debating whether I really want to shave my head to match the character or not. I would like to go all the way and look really bad ass. But I have this girl is coming to town, and I've been talking to her for a few weeks, and she'll be with me at the parties I am going to be dressed up at. I think it might weird her out if I shave it all the way. Cause she's used to me with a buzz cut, but shaving your head changes your look a lot. And I'm trying to get my dick wet, you know? It's been a while, and good ol' Stroker Ace is getting restless. I don't want him pissed off at me. (he's my peen, if you didn't catch that)
I decided to switch his name. I named him Rod Thunder with my last serious woman, and I think it's time for a changing of the guard. I was gonna go with Thor Maximus or Brutus Von Goodmotion or Docor Swordley Longfellow or something like that, but Stroker Ace has the double whammy of being a character in a Charlie Daniels Band song, and sounding masturbatory, which is both comical and accurate. If any of you have a really good cock name, throw it out there and I'll take it into consideration.
Speaking of input, does anyone know how to get up a fucking blogroll. I think I know what I'm supposed to do, but blogger keeps giving me some sort of retarded page error whenever I try and add an element to my page layout. I was hoping there might be some sort of html code add on to do it, like they have for standalone players on myspace. (which represents the full extent of my experience with html code) it's pissing me off and I'm just about ready to switch my blog over to wordpress, cause they look cooler.
Anyway, I asked this biker dude at my AA class if having trouble sleeping was a common problem for people who were first trying to quit drinking. He gave me one of his deep gravelly chuckles and this is sort of how it all went:
Me: "Hey Mike, do lots of people have a hard time sleeping when they first quit drinking?"
Mike: (deep gravelly chuckle) "Yeah, it's nothing to worry about, most everyone does. I'll bet you've been having some pretty crazy dreams too. Lots of nightmares and dreams about drinking a lot?"
Me: (somewhat surprised at his entirely accurate prediction) "Uh ... yeah. They've been pretty gnarly lately. I hadn't really thought much of it, but they definitely are more frequent and way more intense."
Mike: "Take some Tylenol PM or whatever. Just make sure to follow the instructions. Don't take four and end up abusing them."
Me: (thinking about last night when I took four) "Yeah, no problem. I never take those things. I don't even take asprin when I'm sick."
And that last part was true. I hate taking medicine and going to doctors and most everything involved in not dieing from being a healt-o-phobe. But that's a different topic for a different post. Right now I have to go smoke one last cigarette before my old friend Tylenol PM kicks my ass. I can feel him sneaking up from behind.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Chew Your Food
Oh dear God, I'm exhausted. I had one of those Saturdays where your liver crawls out you ass and scurries away to hide under the bed. Eight thirty rolled around this morning and my brother woke me up. It was fair time. I was siked out. The catch? My wicked hangover was going to make this day challenging. I felt like thirty two flavors of ass.
So I pounded a couple down whilst I got ready, and we headed out to the fairgrounds. After we sit for seven or eight hours in fair traffic, we finally get a parking spot. We hired a sherpa to help us find our way back to civilized society, seeing as how the spot we got was somewhere near West Virginia. After we got to the gates, the first booth sported a sign I had been waiting a very long time to see: "FUNNEL CAKES".
Hell fuckin yeah, I thought, lets kick this fucker off with a classic. I ate a funnel cake and waited for our good friends Kato and Rach to get there. First order of business, ride the Zipper. No wait, I forgot, they talked me into going on this drop ride. Basically you sit in a chair facing away from this huge ass tower, they raise you, and you fall. It's cooler than it sounds. But I'm a total pussy for heights. Don't get me wrong, I have huge brass balls that are impervious to damage and shoot lasers out of them, but they are ground balls. Some people just aren't meant to leave the relative safety of the ground, and I'm one of them.
After that we hit up the Zipper, it blew my mind. I seriously love that thing. I want to marry the zipper and have little twirling carnie children that we'll feed deep fried cheerios for breakfast. Then we dicked around and rode some other bull shit. There was a "House of Rock" that disappointed. There was really no real rock theme, just a fun house for kids. There was a spinny thing with a pole, I liked that, but the rest was craptastic. Same deal with some little horror ride where you get in a child size mine cart and ride through a sort of dark area with animatronics that would make Walt Disney's head implode from the sheer suckitude. I wanted my moneys worth though, so I screamed like a girl every time anything moved or got illuminated.
I saw the amazing Snake girl, head of a beautiful woman, but the two hundred pound body of an ugly snake. It was only a dollar, and I would call that a bargain, because I actually got about ten dollars worth of frustration and hatred. First off, the snake body was nowhere near two hundred pounds. It wasn't even especially large for a constrictor. Second, they didn't even try to hide the door this dumb bitch was sticking her head through. Third, home girl had on sun glasses and headphones. Fuck me, just give it at least a little effort. We all know it's fake, but we're playing along for the sake of entertainment. Jeez.
Then I went and got some fried pickles. They were gross, but I hate pickles anyway. Just imagine taking a pickle spear and nuking it in the microwave until it burns the living shit out of your mouth. Now squirt some ranch sauce on your burns and you have a fried pickle. Then I went and got a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was good, but not awesome. Then I got a fried cheeseburger. I wish I had paid five dollars for the foreign bastard who sold me this monstrosity to just go ahead and take a huge shit in my mouth, because that would have tasted better. I imagine if you took the cheapest meat substitute you could find, piss on it, coat it with enough salt to make it impossible to eat, and then heat it up to five billion degrees so people will be distracted by the pain and not round house kick the crap out of you for passing it off as food. Suck. I did stop by a place which offered "good old fashioned soda pop" on tap and it came in this bad ass metal mug that's got a prospector and the logo "Hillbilly Homebrew". So that was cool.
Round about this time the hangover is in full swing and I begin suspect that my overindulgence may have been a poor idea. So I went and rode the Zero Gravity ride that spins you so fast you overcome gravity and then they tilt the thing up on a ninety degree angle. That was cool as hell. After that we rode the Ring of Fire. That was cool.
At two they had a destruction derby. I don't know if you have ever seen one, but everything that begins with destruction is automatically bad ass. I'm not sure if it can get much more American than drinking Coke at the State Fair while listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd over a loudspeaker and waiting for a bunch of crazy red necks to jump in junked out cars with the sole intention of smashing the crap out of each other. They had Radiator Gladiator (pronounced rad with a short A, you know, so it rhymes with gladiator) t-shirts. I got one. It was wild as hell.
I saw more mullets in one day that I normally do in one month. Good lord. I don't know what it is about rednecks, but they just won't let go of a bad idea once it becomes popular. Jebus Krikes, people stopped wearing mullets some time around the early nineties. Because they look stupid. Fucking retarded. Stop continuing the abomination. And there was more fine asses than you could shake a stick at. I swear we got some fine women down here in the south. Mmmmmm ... tasty! I swear though, there was also some dangerous jail bait. If I ever have a daughter, I will never, ever, under any circumstances let her leave the house dressed like some of the little girls I saw today. I'll just as soon tan her fuckin hide. I'll put the fear of the Lord back in her little hoochie ass, cause I don't want her parading around like some mini slut and getting knocked up and making my spare time and money go towards taking care of her loose vagina and the bastards who pop out of it. Fuck that.
So anyway, after the derby was over and all the cars were totalled we went up to The Grill to say hey to my little brother LP. Then we went to the Village of Yesteryear to get a steaming hot cup of the worlds best damn apple cider ever.
And that was pretty much it. Nate and Sami got burnt to hell, but I was ok because I work in the sun a lot. I managed to keep the food in my stomach until I got home and barfed in the shower. I learned I need to chew my food better.
So I pounded a couple down whilst I got ready, and we headed out to the fairgrounds. After we sit for seven or eight hours in fair traffic, we finally get a parking spot. We hired a sherpa to help us find our way back to civilized society, seeing as how the spot we got was somewhere near West Virginia. After we got to the gates, the first booth sported a sign I had been waiting a very long time to see: "FUNNEL CAKES".
Hell fuckin yeah, I thought, lets kick this fucker off with a classic. I ate a funnel cake and waited for our good friends Kato and Rach to get there. First order of business, ride the Zipper. No wait, I forgot, they talked me into going on this drop ride. Basically you sit in a chair facing away from this huge ass tower, they raise you, and you fall. It's cooler than it sounds. But I'm a total pussy for heights. Don't get me wrong, I have huge brass balls that are impervious to damage and shoot lasers out of them, but they are ground balls. Some people just aren't meant to leave the relative safety of the ground, and I'm one of them.
After that we hit up the Zipper, it blew my mind. I seriously love that thing. I want to marry the zipper and have little twirling carnie children that we'll feed deep fried cheerios for breakfast. Then we dicked around and rode some other bull shit. There was a "House of Rock" that disappointed. There was really no real rock theme, just a fun house for kids. There was a spinny thing with a pole, I liked that, but the rest was craptastic. Same deal with some little horror ride where you get in a child size mine cart and ride through a sort of dark area with animatronics that would make Walt Disney's head implode from the sheer suckitude. I wanted my moneys worth though, so I screamed like a girl every time anything moved or got illuminated.
I saw the amazing Snake girl, head of a beautiful woman, but the two hundred pound body of an ugly snake. It was only a dollar, and I would call that a bargain, because I actually got about ten dollars worth of frustration and hatred. First off, the snake body was nowhere near two hundred pounds. It wasn't even especially large for a constrictor. Second, they didn't even try to hide the door this dumb bitch was sticking her head through. Third, home girl had on sun glasses and headphones. Fuck me, just give it at least a little effort. We all know it's fake, but we're playing along for the sake of entertainment. Jeez.
Then I went and got some fried pickles. They were gross, but I hate pickles anyway. Just imagine taking a pickle spear and nuking it in the microwave until it burns the living shit out of your mouth. Now squirt some ranch sauce on your burns and you have a fried pickle. Then I went and got a fried peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was good, but not awesome. Then I got a fried cheeseburger. I wish I had paid five dollars for the foreign bastard who sold me this monstrosity to just go ahead and take a huge shit in my mouth, because that would have tasted better. I imagine if you took the cheapest meat substitute you could find, piss on it, coat it with enough salt to make it impossible to eat, and then heat it up to five billion degrees so people will be distracted by the pain and not round house kick the crap out of you for passing it off as food. Suck. I did stop by a place which offered "good old fashioned soda pop" on tap and it came in this bad ass metal mug that's got a prospector and the logo "Hillbilly Homebrew". So that was cool.
Round about this time the hangover is in full swing and I begin suspect that my overindulgence may have been a poor idea. So I went and rode the Zero Gravity ride that spins you so fast you overcome gravity and then they tilt the thing up on a ninety degree angle. That was cool as hell. After that we rode the Ring of Fire. That was cool.
At two they had a destruction derby. I don't know if you have ever seen one, but everything that begins with destruction is automatically bad ass. I'm not sure if it can get much more American than drinking Coke at the State Fair while listening to Lynyrd Skynyrd over a loudspeaker and waiting for a bunch of crazy red necks to jump in junked out cars with the sole intention of smashing the crap out of each other. They had Radiator Gladiator (pronounced rad with a short A, you know, so it rhymes with gladiator) t-shirts. I got one. It was wild as hell.
I saw more mullets in one day that I normally do in one month. Good lord. I don't know what it is about rednecks, but they just won't let go of a bad idea once it becomes popular. Jebus Krikes, people stopped wearing mullets some time around the early nineties. Because they look stupid. Fucking retarded. Stop continuing the abomination. And there was more fine asses than you could shake a stick at. I swear we got some fine women down here in the south. Mmmmmm ... tasty! I swear though, there was also some dangerous jail bait. If I ever have a daughter, I will never, ever, under any circumstances let her leave the house dressed like some of the little girls I saw today. I'll just as soon tan her fuckin hide. I'll put the fear of the Lord back in her little hoochie ass, cause I don't want her parading around like some mini slut and getting knocked up and making my spare time and money go towards taking care of her loose vagina and the bastards who pop out of it. Fuck that.
So anyway, after the derby was over and all the cars were totalled we went up to The Grill to say hey to my little brother LP. Then we went to the Village of Yesteryear to get a steaming hot cup of the worlds best damn apple cider ever.
And that was pretty much it. Nate and Sami got burnt to hell, but I was ok because I work in the sun a lot. I managed to keep the food in my stomach until I got home and barfed in the shower. I learned I need to chew my food better.
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