Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Breaking News: I'm the father of Anna Nicoles Baby.


Tons of foul weather in the home town today. Which means the roads belong to S.Vincent and his reckless SUV. I refuse to let weather stand in my way of being a nuisence to everyone in the county, and from claiming my rights as the father of young Dannielynn. Anna and I had a romantic escapade involving a dozen creme-filled donuts and some injectable horse tranquilizers. I have numerous witnesses to support that Anna and I have a regular donut and horse tranquilizer habit, and when the two of us met, it was an explosive love affair. I think her mother and the dog were there too, but on horse tranqulizers and custard, I saw Grimace there too, so who knows. I am very sorry for her death but I want to make sure that young Danniholiwhassit is well provided for and with the natural father, which is me.

My favorite part of going to the gym (besides hotties, tanning, sneezing on people, and giving wedgies to old women) is to make up new nicknames for people that they will never know. Here are a few examples of names that I use with a straight face...... Senior D-bag, Muscle Mania, Muscle Mania sr., Punk Rock, The Alien, Puffer, Ball Girl, Muffin Top, Slut Cake, Nascar Bob, and Smoker Bob. I feel like a mother of a newborn baby everytime some freak shows up and becomes worthy of nickname. However, I do not enjoy these people.....with the exception of ball girl. Their nicknames are created because they drew attention to themselves through negative attention, and thus I dislike them. I give names to my pain and frustrations, and these are the names I give them.

How does a gas pump know when your tank is almost full? There must be some sort of simple technology at play since they've had this feature since 19 dickity 2, but I'll be damned if I can figure it out.

Some of you may be looking for the secret to my witful words and elegant writing style. Well I can tell you that it would not be possible if not for my fantastic keyboard with its soothing mechanical key-strokes that click like an old friendly type-writer. The soothing rythem allows my mind to wander to peaceful places that spread my imagination wide across the plains like smooth peanut butter on toast. If you enjoy using your computer and have the means, I highly suggest picking one up.

Its been a decade now, and I still need to know the motivation behind wearing your pants like this on a daily basis. Its not cool or comfortable or attractive. It is the picture of idiocy. Seriously, state your case.

If you need to know whether or not the Grammys is a respectable awards show, all you need to know is that the Dixie Chicks won the award for Album of the Year. In other news; I am giving the local toothless hooker with the face tattoo and 50 inch waist the award for Northeasts best looking person. Give me a primetime network slot and some validation in name only please. I know thats a real easy joke to make, ha ha the grammys are stupid haha, but it really makes me angry that country shit gets album of the year; and year after year something allows them to make a decision on musical talent despite a horrendous record of decision making. I support pollution of rivers more than I support decisions made by this "academy".

This Post written while listening to: Arcade Fire "Neon Bible"

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

HEY how did you get that album already? thats internet piracy if you ask me! sinner!

Anonymous said...

hahah well done, this post made me laugh out loud while entertaining clients at my desk job, and when asked what was so funny it was suddenly inappropriate to say horse tranquilizers and donuts - and now you know you have one more anonymous reader

 

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