why would you bump this....

Because it's great?

Blog entry

Tuesday

Went to see Janeane with her big fat EYES.

Monday

Ate pork and cheese. A whole loaf. Said, "Mama! Give me some sugar! Where yat?"

Potato vodka FTW

I went to a field somewhat voluntarily. (I would have been tortured physically if I had not.) Understand. The cops pointed out that I had a dog in my face. I just shook it off. I breathe it in. You know what it takes to be a hot shot? I'M ALL EARS.

long time no see!

If you apply sugar to some bristles imagine the landscape therein. I see a string of broad shouldered Patsy's doing something diabolical with their children in the basement of winter. They're just making cheese sandwiches I would not be surprised if that is what they were doing. Making cheese sandwiches with translucent Velveeta and purple sour cream with a little glisteny mayo. Good for fixing that spotted rash. That's what my boss would say. His bosses boss agrees that I am a good horseradish sailsman. I do it by boat and try to keep things sterile--that's what the horseradish is for. That's what I tell them anyways. Not every person you meet in life is a purveyor of root goods. I'm just like any other sailor, I guess.

tart is gonna be pissed he is banned aorn

PuppyFridayYall is my fave poster ever

how is this not 5*

I like fish in a dish with onions and raspberries.

You ain't never goin' to Germany long as you got dem Snapple bottles in dat mouth.

What don't you understand about the word elephant rhyming with your face in that TWILIGHT. We had a bet. I won. So cool your jets boss! Do some pushups and get to that swirling around the saturn moon. And your breath. My heart to your chest and it beating ever so warm. Hearing the palpitations all the while the bassy moombas lulling us into the great depths of literal, escapable sing-songiness that is the zest and lambast of life. We become one: transplanted to the face of destiny. As a stark disk we solidly vibe to the point of explosion.

I like you, do you like me?

Seriously tho, I think you are bat-**** crazy.

this is my fav thread of all time

Our evening started out with a dinner at Shoney's. She put on her best pork earrings and was sure to slather the kids in their finest dressings. Yuckface, our youngest and most jubilant, gave his mama a big ole dance naked on the table. Her eyes bugged out and tongue sloshed about. She applied the cream sometime, late afternoon, and the smell of it wafted from her undergarment across the table to my breathing tubules. The pungency hung in the air for a bit--stalled and ripe. She was hard to trust when she stank this much but we soldiered on with Yuckface and the rest of those goons that had spewed from her womb at one point or another. It was a kind gesture that would be repaid mightily upon our death. We also own an animal that I'm afraid to say how much has cost us. He makes up for it with his smiles and harmless tottering. One of the goons says how the dog licks him to sleep most nights.

After we dropped the goons off, full-bellied, we went to our yoga session. To watch the old gal folded over sent me barreling. She brooded at me over this but she is the one that simply insists that we go to these. Aren't doing much as far for me in any department. Her thighs are thick and she is six-feet four-inches tall--a basketball player out of Nebraska and fed on corn all her life. Still, when she stands up straight it really gives me a genuine jolt.

loool

holy f*cking sh*t never lock this threads

very random **** ITT

great bump

This is how my mom used to make cookies. Pairs of popsicles. Dreams of schnoozelax. Pretty ribboned horse droppings lace lacquered with gelatin. We put these into the machine. Zing zing zing. When it zings we apply a drop of cinnamon oil, battered cashews, shrimp, and tiny fetus coils. We ingest these and put the spoilage in a tin trapping can--leaving it there for weeks.

Monks from miles around come on their bicycles to enjoy the feast. Idiots come out of their pigmy holes with their handsome weaved baskets while the whole town celebrates!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Even people who are cooped up most days come out, groove down, and festively smack their children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children's children.

This is a pic of Terri, a person I am not worthy of calling wife in the slightest. A strong vessel of a woman whose physical and mental presence is three parts ecologically hazardous, five parts jovially imposing. She brings meaning to my life in ways Christ Jesus fathomed only milleniums ago. Her lack of hygiene is made up for in her unending love for Christ Jesus. To hear her snore in the present is to find solace in what shape her snore may take in the afterlife. Her bosom is like moldy bread in that there are spores--I testify to that, Lord do I ever--but Christ Charred Jesus do I still love her! The scriptures wouldn't have it any other way! By the way, her chicken spaghetti is so good it must be God's will. Terri passed away some months ago.

Jake

When I first initiated contact with the Swossle family I had no idea what I was getting into. The older grandma was just like a fish out of water. Her darting glances would often revolt the fish beside her. The younger grandma was a splendid sort, age ninety, who loved Slim Jims. Sarah her daughter was your typical working mom. She would often have the kids babysit for hours at a time. She would follow it up with her drama sessions. Her next of kin, Julia, was 37 the day her dad passed away and we all mourned. It was 5 oclock before I got off work to go garden. We were intrigued by the family but chose not to let them board our sailboat. This was decided with much meditation and as a family of our own, we debacled and quarreled until not one of us had much else to say on the topic. I awoke in a fever as the sun had set and the day jibbed on, awash in the beauty of our buoyant abode.

She was a stout old broad, the kind I really liked. You know, the kind that really gets your goosies purrin'. She was dynamite on a lam and a good pick-me-upper if ya know what I mean. And by that I mean she was a real sweet pea, the kind made of dreams. We'd stain our frog collection white so we couldn't tell them apart. A real imaginer this dame!! We'd go back and forth about how we were so daffy about this and so daffy about that. We were daffy about most everything when our tuckuses were within three dashes of the others. I couldn't tell ya how many times we were near strife and the next thing ya know she comes out with three or four egg dishes to set the record straight and really keep me on the level. She was a real life poumpador this dame. The kind that really strived to keep ya on the hook. We'd empty our chimney baskets just to let the neighbors next door aware who was really boss. I mean we were hip. The kind of schtick that can't last forever unless you've got it together--and exactly that we did for as long as we're able. The thing you've got to remember is that we weren't just "in luv" but we were "mad passionate" about the other. You should have seen some of the stuff we done and you wouldn't even know it by lookin' at us. Now I'm not here to prissy about the prattle, but if you know which way the discs blowin' you know just where I'm at. If you don't, then get associated. Now I mean business. You shouldn't be up in the air unless you know what that's about. Am I in the know or am I in the know? One hint, two words: I am. You see this is what it's all about. Some people don't even know it until it's too late. Let me sum things up and in summation I hope there ain't no hesitation. Now, a cricket can do one of two things...it can flap, and it can really let loose. That's it. That's all there is. But if you don't know where I'm approachin' from you better start ardvarkin' it boy. Now you say I say this and I say that. Well now! What are you supposed to do? Look sad? Look silly?? Well yes and maybe but at the same time hell no! You got to be an action man not an action can!

My warbles be floating on the open ocean
There is a sack of cheese at my feet and I don't quite remember how to eat
It was only many moons ago when we did the doe-c-doe
And your smiles are now going on for miles
In the lambast of your resistance I find my omnipotence
There we chatter and constantly apply what we may to your platter
In this I assume we own every pontoon
Known to man for all that we can