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Anything this deep, probing and penetrating MUST be good!December 01 The poem of a broken man..I keep confusing my ankles for my wrists, Remind me which is your buttocks, and which your tits, That's a sock, but I thought it a glove, You have a heart, but I see no love. I'm speaking eloquently, but you think I'm rambling, These may be relatives, but I don't see any family. Are these doors, or are they windows? All I really need to remember, Is that these are my knees, and not my elbows. **ATTENTION** **ATTENTION** BEFORE YOU READ THIS ARTICLE, YOU MUST KNOW THAT IT IS THE VERY DEFINITION OF "RIBALD" !!!!!!!!!!!!!!Main Entry: 2ribald Function: adjective 1 : crude, offensive <ribald language> 2 : characterized by or using coarse indecent humor synonym see coarse A day for the ages. Though, obviously not the very good ages.
The members were eventially propitiated by the mediator's proffering of bacon rashers and party hats; later the renascence of discord arose when the very bacon responsible for placating the members of the caucus was also responsible for severe gastronimical issues, redolent of cholera. Despite the splenetics permeating the room, garage or caravan (though it was merely a room) the assembly continued. And continue it did! With much continuity! Ebb and flow was disregarded in favor of unmitigated flow, with ebb relegated to the proverbial sidelines where it metaphorically and literally, though not actually, hustled and bustled with other notions now ignored by the author of this article; such as spelling, grammar and law's prohibitting public defacation. The minutes of the meeting are as follows: 12:53 12:54 12:55 12:56 12:57 12:58 12:59 13:00 13:01 Take a moment to consider just how many are there. 9 to be precise. That's quite a figure. At the least it is a figure. At the very most it's a golden rod of happiness held by the capable hands of Ian Thorpe. Capable of what exactly, I'm not quite sure. But he possesses both them and the faculties by which to manipulate them, thus one could infer that they are indeed capable of anything from holding a banana, to murdering an old navy seaman after he expectorated on Ian Thorpe's expectations. Not an easy task to accomplish I assure you, and I feel he was a little harshly done by, even for someone whose existance is soley within a poorly contrived and awkwardly verbose elaboration of a point that was redundant at best to begin with. The blacksmith erupted lava from every orifice in his body. Meeting adjourned.
November 21 Indeed. Or as they say in Scotland: Indeed. As well they should.Well, as I'm still working on quite a few mammoth updates to the blog (and I am beginning to question whether or not they will ever see the light of day), I thought I might present to you a wonderfully educational article and guide to two new sexual positions that I started work on about an hour ago. Please, feel free to show this to your children, or perhaps your neighbours' children. THE SNAIL
What to do: In this position, the woman lies face first against the mattress, concrete, grass, foliage or shrubbery. Whichever offers the most effective camoflague and/or allows access to the most abundant sources of nutrition. Once in this postion, the male will walk up, and place his feet on either side of her hips, facing forwards. Leaning down (placing more emphasis on arching his back) and forming a bridge he should feel free to use his hand to help guide his phallus into the females now engorged aperture. Extend hands and place under the ladies' mammaries. At this point, the male should tuck his head in behind her, so that he has a full view of his own crotch. The female now extends her arms outwards and upwards (he may have to temporarily move his hands from betwixt her bossom and intertwine it with her arms to help aid in their suspension).
Ideally, the male will thrust until the point of climax, while the female writhes around the surface underneathe. For every 30 seconds, she should cover approximately 30 centimeters distance. Upon climax, don't attempt for full penetration. More try and cover the anus, and labia, so that after coitus, whilst still remaining in THE SNAIL position, the female can continue to writhe about the ground and leave her own glistening trail behind – a recreation of nature.
Here's a handy hint: Whilst preferring to remain naked, I do often choose to wear armour plating on my back whilst in this position. Something lightweight, yet durable, such as kevlar is preferrable. This provides strong protection against the unyielding harshness of nature, not to mention birds, and other foraging animals. DARTH VADER'S HELMET
It's truly difficult to capture this position, and it's intricasies with words. So instead, I've detailed a step by step outline in the form of visual aid. After utilising the services of two prostitutes for the evening, I've used a combination still photos taken from our session, combined with extensive photoshop editting to highlight all the key components. So without further adieu: Step 1
Warning: Apply lubrication generously to all surfaces, nooks and crannies – as pictured above. Step 2
Here's a handy hint: I prefer to clench before insertion. OOPS!!! The picture above is precisely the reason why I hired two prostitutes for the evening. She will be of no use to anyone after not maintaining balance on that step ladder whilst attempting that manoeuvre. Step 3
And like magic, the transformation is complete! Obviously, using a woman of negroid persuasion would be most beneficial in replicating the films accurately. Unfortunately, the escort service happened to send me two albino hookers. I mean, what are the odds of that? So you'll have to use your imagination to achieve a suspesion of disbelief. Below: The aftermath from the aforementioned step ladder incident.
Kids: Don't try this at home, unless your parents are away and your grandparents are incapacitated with the trappings of old age. October 10 Boy was my face red.
Today, I accidentally installed my vertical blinds horizontally. Golly gosh! But I didn't wish to let on that it was a mistake, so here's what I did: I undertook the task to completely uproot the house, breaking it free of it's foundation, lifting it in it's entirety up 4 meters into the air; suspending it there. Keeping in mind that I'm a little light on cash, I decided to eschew traditional methods used when raising houses. So to achieve this, I hired 8 elephants and their trainers (the task only required 7, but they had a special on "rent 7 elephants get the 8th free", so who am I to resist? Besides that I've always wanted to ride an elephant, and having the superfluous beast there allowed me to do just that without hampering the efforts of the rest of the team; an altogether pleasant experience, might I add -- which I did). Each elephant was affixed a tether connected to another elephant and a carjack. The jacks were used to raise the house slightly and hold it there while the tethers could be run underneathe the house by the elephants trainers (I wasn't taking the risk myself). The gargantuan quadripeds then moved the house onto a waiting platform I had organised in anticipation of my plans coming to fruition (tremendous foresight on my behalf). The platform was raised uniformly, and in unison, by the uniformed elephants (I had uniforms made up. It was special). Then I used powerful magnets, super conducters, a crane, a cherry picker, a brigade of 30 malnourished workers surreptitiously hired from Indonesia's slave trading market (12 of which died - and two others contracted chlamydia), 14 students studying engineering at (a) University (though they, too, did not finish work unscathed! One of them had noticable blemishes on his skin as a direct result of receiving several lofty blows from my rancorous fists), a giant sponge, an obelisk, a tractor and a shetlan pony to shift the monolith 90 degrees on it's axis. Once completed, we began to convert the side of the house into a structurally sound (or at least structurally.. dense) base to support the dwelling. Keeping in mind that my funds are evaporating at an almost unbelievable rate (fortunately I have several receipts and bank statements assuaging my fears[???] that the money had been misused, misappropiated and.. mysanthropic..) this was completed largley (in fact, entirely) by me using largly (in fact, entirely) a chisel and 3 tonnes of sticky tape (I had been stockpiling for just such an emergency) then dropping it back in place. It looks ok. I dunno. Maybe I should just stick with my old curtains. They were mauve. That means that they were good. September 28 Worst update ever. ENJOY!!!I'm currently creating a very difficult and time-consuming vignette to add to the blog. Unfortunately, it's surprisingly ambitious, and very difficult to undertake with my current schedule. So, as a temporary placeholder I have some intellectual forays into the world of internet comic strips! I hope you can fully grasp the profundity of.....
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I made a total of three other versions of this following comic before settling on this version:
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Enjoy this miniature update! I hope you do. It took entirely too long to make such crude doodles, and I really don't think it's worth the payoff (What fucking payoff?? No one reads this shit..).
Anyways, this was a late night recourse in attempting to placate your insatatiable avarice for intellectualitisationalism and indeed edify your your belief that my next update with be chock-a-block filled with so much goodness your chest with explode forth in a frothy blend of laughter and internal organs leaving you with a grin from ear to ear and severe haemorraging internally.
I love you all.
Oh, and a late addition to keep you amused for a while longer! I created a little game for you! Enjoy, it may take a while, but don't worry, you'll figure it out in due course!
 September 14 A journey into the soul..Why do we listen to the music we do?
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I'm fully prepared to wait until you decide to answer the question, asshole.
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It was not rhetorical.....
Oh wait, it was. My bad. I'll delete all those line breaks later. Anyways, this question was asked of you, my dear loyal reader, for one very important reason. However, the reason escapes me right now, so I'll just assume that it's in an attempt to get into your pants. That's why I do everything else, isn't it? It's why I took a shit this morning, isn't it? It's why I accidentally misalligned my buttons while doing up my shirt this morning so the right side had an extra button at the top, and the left side had an extra button at the bottom! Isn't it??? It's why I stole my sisters car, drove 300 kilometers in the wrong direction with my penis pressed firmly into the cigarette lighter compartment, scorching my glans before dropping my step-brother off in the middle of nowhere with nothing by an esky filled with empty dreams and a bottom filled with syphoned gasoline and driving home again to pick up Gary Glitter from soccer practice and handing him into the authorities to be penalised with the full power of the law for paedophillic activities occuring under my very nose! ISN'T IT!?!? And does it work? Considering you can't prove otherwise: Yes, it does. However, this doesn't answer my initial question. In fact, it wouldn't even answer any question posed to me. Unless the question was: "What did you just say?" and I also just happened to say those exact same words. Or, alternatively, had someone just read that paragraph out allowed, and a person next to him responded with: "What did he just say?" then, too, the answer would be completely applicable. Now, where was I? Oh, that's right. An excourse detailing the thanatological nature of my sobriquet. Oh, the mendacity! What sort of music do I listen to? It's tough to say. Ones enjoyment of music is inherently subconcious. Otherwise, it's called "appreciation". Thus, labelling a style of music as good or bad can be, in and of itself, tricky. How does an elitist snob decide he only wants to listen to the absolute 'best' that music has to offter, attacking anything he sees as unfit with vitriolic criticism? Yet, your average dandy with the sense of a rusted sheet of corrigated iron can listen to top 40 pulp, churned out like so much butter. Not to mention yoghurt. And with good cause, it's irrelevent! Given the nature of enjoyment derived from music (something I mentioned earlier had you even bothered to read it which you obviously haven't if you're having to read this just to find out that I had already mentioned it GOSH) how can one argue that a pompous ditty such as "The End" by The Doors be any worse than an epic reconnaissance into the human condition such as 50 Cent's "Fuck You". Where as one person may appreciate, length, depth and spirituality within a song, another person may have a propensity toward brevity, levity and.. gravity, in another song. So what gives these dogmatic know-it-alls the right to choose a paradigm by which good music governed if music is subjective on an instinctual level? HUH?? What gives these pedandtic and pretentious people the privelege to perpetuate and peddle their own particular pedigree of pedagogy so presumptuously to eveyone else!?!?!?!
From my CD collection, I've extrapolated a list of features I'll be subconsiously ruminating over whilst listening to a song:
In no particular order. Other than alphabetical. I think we can all agree that this is a fair, and all-encompassing list of categories with which critique can be made to songs. Let me give you some examples, to illustrate, illuminate and.. elongate my point (eh?? EH???) Let's first consider this example of cerebral depth, bredth, girth, and.. buoyancy. This song is entitled "Pimp Juice" by none other than the maestro himself; Nelly. [Intro] Now if this doesn't stir maelstrom of intellectual affectations within you, then you simply aren't human. Being able to fathom the very notion of this 'pimp juice' that is spoken of so highly in this song; what it represents within all of us, and it's effects on todays society as a whole. It's a caustic, biting manifesto conjouring up images of rag tag youths propagating superfluous truisms negating the fervent need for altruistic shifts in sociological relationships with one another. The last verse in particular stirs emotions as though it's a melting pot of stuff being stirred with a thing. They got mo'...juice in they talk, got mo' juice in they walk I'm particularly partial to the "OOH GODDAMN" at the end, and fits seemlessly in with the phoenetically altered use of the word "man" two lines later (pronounced "Mayne"). Now, compare this with trite, easily digestable fodder such as "Once in a Lifetime" by The Talking Heads: And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack Yes. Same as it ever was, indeed. Please, keep using the same lyric over and over again. It impresses all of us greatly. These lyrics do no impress. Supposedly it's some post-modernistic mumbo jumbo. But who can take it seriously? As though a person is actually going to wake up and realize that his life had inexorably and irrevocably ended up somewhere that he never intended it to. Dubious at best. But it doesn't stop there. Water dissolving...and water removing The 'poet' continually makes reference to water, as though it's some kind of ongoing metaphor for life. Yet never clearly sheds light on the actuality of this allusion. Not to mention removing water from the bottom of the ocean? There's an impossibility. All that line achieves is a boggling mental puzzle in which no result is achieved. How can you remove the water from the bottom of the ocean? Impossible, and meaningless. But you know, it's almost nice in a way to see an author eschew what the majority would like to hear, as though it's allowing him some higher ground of morality. When in reality, it's just bad song-writing that no one who cares about music is actually going to bother to decipher. Now we move on to picking apart the sincerity of music, and those who create it. Afterall, one of the main artistic goals of music in our culture today is to express ones inner emotions, and exorcize ones inner demons, and celebrating our inner happiness. Expressing ones self. Promulgating ones inner thoughts, so as to to achieve a feel of empathy within our audience, who will have gone through the same experiences. Two perfect examples here are Rotting Head by Cannibal Corpse; and Jealous Guy by John Lennon. A quivering pile of useless flesh, locked in a padded cell When the singer emotes so emphatically in regards to anal asphyxiation, you can feel his pain, and his yearning. Every word is drenched with this actuality that permeates its being. When the poet sings about brains being devoured, it's because he has been there. And wants to express it's horror to everyone else, as a warning! A calamity such as this must surely be avoided, and his words act as warning to all of us out there who may one day be in this situation. And did someone mention decapitated extremities?? You bet your ass the poet of these lyrics did. Sure, to some it might not make any sense whatsoever. But it's not so much the grammar we are focusing on here, but the feeling. This feeling that is within all of us as the precipice of having decapitated extremities hangs woefully over all our heads, and being presented vicariously through this poets words. This truely is beauty incarnate, then presented on a piece of paper, to be sung in song, and transferred via electronic means onto the World Wide Web for all of us to see! Beauty incarnate, indeed! And it's spellbinding. Now we move onto some more derivitive, uninspired, and detached ca-ca.
I was dreaming of the past. I didn't mean to hurt you, I don't really see how anyone can relate to this. As though the so called poet assumes that we're all angry, girlfriend-bashing men with nothing better to do with our time than masturbate furiously over the psychotic fantasy of our girlfriend being pummelled to a bloody submission by a truculent gang of street urchins trying to claim their fees for harvesting enough corn to feed their families through the harsh winter ahead! Hah.. Not likely. Point made. Case closed. Carpet vaccumed. Moving on. Originality and musicianship? Artistic integrity and intellectual integrity? Arrangement? Well, thinking back it seems irrelevent now. My mistake. Really, I should just go back and remove them from the list I created, but honestly.. it's all the way up there. Does anyone care if a style/genre/concept in music has no been done before? I mean honestly, isn't the best music today created on a drum machine with a simple base-line? And even more recently, a slightly kitschy electronic stammer interspersed generously throughout the song has also become staple. And all for the better, I say! And if we all stop kidding outselves here, isn't it original and clever to introduce new contexts for the word pimp or motherfucker in songs today. How many possible ways could there be to use these terms? Yet we keep finding new ones. Artistic integrity? Well, according and Andy Warhol's notion of pop as art, one of the key principles was that making money is art; thus, any top 40 hit is inherently artistically uhh... integruous. And yes that's a word. But don't bother looking it up in any dictionary. Just take my fernanglabra for it.
Right now, it's entirely far too early in the morning for me to be creating a post like this. Any level of creativity I may have possessed has long since abated and/or subsided and I must beg your leave. I hope that I've enlightened many of you. If you would honestly like me to elaborate on any points I've made (or have not made) please, don't hesitate to go fuck yourself. It's bad enough that I read the dribble being ejaculated forth from the finger tips of the disingenuous scallywags who pretend to enjoy my blog on a near daily basis, but to siccofantically encourage me to do more of it? Well, let's just say that I'm completely covered in toothpaste and it's beginning to burn me in all the wrong places (including, but not exclusive to my epidermis). Oh, and one more thing before I go..
Actually, don't worry about it . September 07 Nietzsche be damned! I've discovered the light! Or perhaps even the lack of a light. Nihilism is truth. A truth which does not exist. Read on!Before I start this entry, I'd like to show everyone my new hairstyle, congruent with the philosophical epiphany I've recently experienced. Yes, that's the appropriate word. Experienced. I've metamorphasized into something more, by spinning a cacoon of logic, and emerging enlightened.
This is me:
 Please enjoy my metaphysical musings for the philological landmarks they are destined (doomed?) to become. In all their profundity.
Into the ether..
My chubby fingers can't grasp your ideals for too much longer..
Into the ether..
Our saviour, but is he illusory? Does he exist? Do any of us exist?
These egregious transgressions will catch up to us eventuallly..
And when they do, I hope to be the one holding all the cards..
This game is up, and we only have so much time to shuffle the deck..
In this palpable world, everything is pulp-able.
A transient, and cursory glimpse of ourselves in the mirror..
But how can we look at something that is of dark matter?
The same matter which I use to think..
I've comported through life..
I can't do it any longer..
A paradigm shift is inevitable..
I'll be the gadfly to instigate change..
Watch these profligate fools scurry through their lives..
Unbeknownst to them the banality of it all..
When nothing is waiting for us..
And nothing is before us..
We are nothing.
My epidermis yearns for your touch as you reach out..
..you reach out for something that does not exist..
Chock-a-block filled to the brim with nothing! Overflowing in a cornucopia of pain that can not exist..
We can't keep dipping our pens in a well of nothingness..
Eventually it will run dry..
Into the ether..
Despondancy, vexation, exasperation, dejection, woe, sorrow...... sadness..
They will catch up with all of us..
And when they do..
I'll be holding all the cards..
My chubby fingers aren't dextrous enough to hold on much longer..
But I can wait. I'll perservere..
To what end?
But was there ever really a beginning?
I'll be cutting off the nose to spite the face..
This air I breathe..
Belongs to me..
You cannot have any..
As you'll only waste it..
These words are filled with the meaning of a thousands lifetimes, condensed into a sauce, and splashed generously over a hotdog of wisdom..
Your touch is an aphorism..
If only my consiousness was..
That which does not kill us can only make us stronger..
That which does not kill us can only make us stronger..
That which does not kill us can only make us stronger..
That which does not make us stronger can only kill us..
We are but time's children..
A past tense of our future selves..
Running concurrently with our current selves..
The future is already planned..
So why should we bother trying now (as though we ever did)?
That which does not make use of this time space we occupy will only end up wilting..
Time and space is our currency of choise in this monetary world of ours..
I wonder if anyone knows the exchange rate..
Into the ether.. September 01 I've decided to sell-out.I've decided that I want more people reading my blog. I'm going to drop the dada-isms and convoluted non-sequiters and focus on actually being [b]funny[/b]. Now, I've been watching contemporary Australian television personalities the last few weeks, and think I've nailed down just what exactly is funny. So without further introduction, allow me please, will you, to make some hilarious obversations about current issues, events and people in our world today!
And there you have it. They're hilarious, edgy, contemporary... and really not too hard to think up. It's perfect, and I'm guaranteed to have a loyal audience in no time. If you pull my windchimes I'd only have a moment to double your equity and sample your marshmallows and I REALLY mean it.I decided to update my blog, however I couldn't think of any real content to update it with, so I decided to update it with the fact that I wasn't sure what I'd update it with the only problem is that I've created a paradox that simply cannot be reversed and the second law of thermodynamics dictates that entropy will take hold and chaos will ensue in an ever-increasing degree and this paradox will one day cause the collapse of the universe itself and really that's not cool with me as I live in this universe, and while it's not perfect it's a hell of a lot better than any other universe I've been to recently and while I've only achieved that through lucidity I can't help but think that my knowledge of their existance is spurious at best and when you think about it there's not a whole lot left to say in regards to the paradox and that's why I've already moved onto something else but if you think about it I'm actually talking about both the paradox and the something else at the same time doing the exact opposite of what I just stated I was doing and if I was to stop it would probably make a whole heap more sense and really isn't that what counts????
Anyways, here's a few failed attempts I made to start this blog entry:
That's about it. So as you see, it's probably better that I instead decided not to start my blog at all, and rather just observe and detail my very inability to start the very blog you're reading. Unfortunately, the only thing harder than starting a blog, is finishing a blog. And the only thing better than titties, is wet titties. Of course, whether or not that is going to tie into the conclusion to this days blog entry is yet to be seen, and given that I'm typing comletely extemporaneously, one wonders if I've even thought it through far enough to have even considered the conclusion.
So anyways, back on topic. And that is the complete lack of a topic, I'd like to mention to you all about the apple I purchased today (DO YOU ALL SEE HOW THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE!?!??!???!? Given that I assume most people stopped reading quite some time ago, I assume not.). I went to the so called supermarket to purchase said rubicund delight, only to catch an eye-ful of the most gorgeous creature I've ever laid eyes on. Casting a few ruminative glances around the room to see if this person was with anyone, I decided to chance making eye-contact. And as I turned my gaze toward this trancendant beauty, and the sexily enticing form slowly pivoted it's physiognomy in my general direction, I realized one thing...... I was looking into a mirror! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA OH MY GOD [b]YOU[/b] DID [b]NOT[b/} SEE THAT COMING. OOOOOOOOOHAU HAU HAU I feel completely exhalted now, having pulled the proverbial wool over all your eyes, and then surprisinging you with a stiff MALE PHALLUS up the ass! Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Hey, I just realized (again) that it's likely that no-one is even still reading this, so I can say pretty much whatever I want about anyone I want. So that means, confession time! Here goes: Mum: When I said I enjoyed your home-baked scones, and then moaned orgasmically for 45-minutes... I was faking it.
Uncle Harold: Your toupe looks like the colon of a dead rodent.
Sebastion: Your face reminds me of an unopened tin of pineapple pieces. But in a good way.
Larry: Your wife is having sex with pretty much everyone you know.
Tony: Please, please, please.. don't ever talk to me again.
Sylvester Stallone: Did you really write Rocky? And if so... what happened after that?
Tony Danza: Who's the boss?! HAHAHAHA REMEMBER HOW YOU WERE IN THAT SHOW AND I JUST BROUGHT IT UP AGAIN JUST THEN???
Fred Stolle: No one remembers who you are. Not even Catfish, and he's a proffessional tennis player. Not to mention a junkie.
Tom: How am I supposed to work on my short game if you're always stealing my golf-balls, putting them in your mouth, sucking them clean and saying: "Now imagine what I could do if they were covered in skin..." and then putting on that suggestive face. It's really just.. odd.
Wilfred: If you ever want to play backgammon in the dark while travelling through Sweden backwards on a train through a cornfield.. just say the word man, I'll be there.
Jennifer: I don't actually know you, or anyone named Jennifer. Sorry.
Burt Lancaster: I know your name, but couldn't name anything significant you've done. Sorry.
Clara: Because you're like the only person who reads my blog, I owe you $345,657,981 spanks on the bottom. Oh whoops, did I put a dollar sign there?? That was a mistake, I'll remove it later.
Andy(Axe): You're really tall.
Andy(little): You're not so much. But I'm pretty sure you'd have a bigger penis than big Andy. And I intend to spread that rumour.
Sean: You are so random. hahaha
Noel: Apes and shit!!! Gorillas in the mist!!@!! ROFL
Erks: If only you knew the truth about those apple-cinnamon things I just made up!! Haha, this doesn't even make sense, I just thought I'd include you, too.
Oh shit, I forgot to give that list a context. Oh well, I'll do it later. You can all probably figure it out anyways.
So in conclusion, you've all just wasted a large amount of time. Oh, and big wet tittes! HAHAHAHAHA OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH SNAP!! SEE THE WAY I SWUNG IT ALL AROUND TO INCLUDE THE FINALE THAT I ALLUDED TO EARLIER!??!?! AND YOU ALL THOUGHT I COULDN'T DO IT!! FOOLS! POOR, INCREDULOUS, DOCILE, FOOLS! GO BACK TO YOUR DOMOCILES TO DOMESTICATE YOUR..... cats.
p.s. I had to massively edit this to remove all profanity. I think you will all note that I have done so seemlessly and without seems. My blog is now safe for your children, youthful family members and abducted young 'uns to read. I probably should have written this part up the top, but given that the content is still completely inappropriate for children, it's completely redundant regardless and should be ignored. August 18 omg ud nvr guess wot hpnd 2dayomg 2day was liek teh wrst day of my LIFE i meen liek evar!! let me tell u wot hpnd okay sweetie?? lol okok
ok so first of all i was all like "wot shud i do 2day???????????" (and before you ask YESW I did use all teh queston marks LOLLLL~!) and my STUPED mum was all like 'you shud be liek totaly boreing and go to teh library:" and i was liek
MUMMMM!@!!!! COME ONNNNNNNNNNN lolss well I didn't SAY lols thats just how funny it was at teh time n stuffs haha okok
So neways i was so totaly boing shoping today at my local shoppinfg plaza when my friend julien (WHO I LOVE!!! LOVE YOU JULIEN) was all like cuming out of a bbq store and i was totally checking him out and he was all like "heyyyy what are you doing here today??" and i was all like nervous and he was all like noticing that i was nervous and i was like "hey julien i'm fine thanks for asking how are you OMG are you like coming out of a bbq store??" and he was TOTALLY "yeah" and i was like "hey thats cool lol, you look really spunk-tastic today you should be a model" and he was totally stunned (i think he wants to have sex with me LOLLLLLLLLLLLLL jst kidding julienhahaha)
so anyways my stupid sister called me just as we were getting really deep and she was all like
"what are you doing today???' and i was like "totally not hanging out with you" LOLLLLLLLL she was so cut omg she hung up on me liek i care neways LOOOOOOOOOOOL jez kidding babes (L) u!!!!!!!
and my friend becky came up from behind me and was like JULIEN IS SO HOT and I was liek "i know hey" and she was like HE WAS SO CHECKING U OUT and i was like "get out of town OLOLOL" and she was like YOU SO WANT TO FUCKS HIM DON"T YOU????? amnd i was liek "nuh-uhhhh" but really i do hey LOLOLOLOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL JUST KIDDING JULIEN ur too hot for me oh and that reminds me
NEWS FLASHSHSHSHSHHSS *flashy lights!!!!!!* LOL
NEWS FLASHHHHHHHHHH LOL
i lost 1 kigogram last week but i'm still way fatter then becky even tho she ways more then me i thin shes mch taller then me aso that dsn't count LOL hahahhaaa LOLOLOL!~!~`` i'm totally in luv wit her jeans taht she bort 2day btw POMG tehys liek suit me pereffectly dowenwen tooo a TTTTTTTT lololol
i am almost ashamed to swim at the beach next 2 u becky LOL
i am so fat compared ot u u r hot as hey i think julien was checking YOUU out LOLLLL nagh just kidding he didnt even notice u LOLLLLL!!!!
and u even had those heels on that you TOTALLY stole from me before i got a chance to buy them!!! LOLLLL
lol
lol
lol
lol
u r so funny beck
SO R U STACY DUN TINK I FORGET U LOLLLLLLLLL!!!!
jhajhaa
 OMGGGGG AM I RIGHT PEOPLE!????? LOLLLLLLLLLLLLL
just a little obversational humor there guys LOLL
neways i ended up getting this really cool skirt and it looked a bit like this::::
 OMG LOL I ACCISTAKENLY POSTED TEH WRONG PICTURE AND NOW I CNT FIND TEH REAL WON LOLLLLLLZZ
btw i luv u fredrik! LOL no i didnt forget u hahaha he was so messaging me on MNS bcuz i didnt mention our game of spankziess!!! haha i always win u no thaat!!LOLOL
anywaysteh skirt is bonza but it only just fits on my chubby legs (LOOLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO FAT :(:(:() jhahaha
and wen i got home my mum was liek "how was teh library" and i was just like "LOL" to myself and kept walking OMG WHAT A TART MY SISTER IS SHE SO STOLE MY JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE POSTER FROM MY ROM LIEK OMG lolol ahahahhaha
 OMG *SWOOOOON* haha i so luv justin JUSTIN IF U CAN READ THIS I LUV U AND WILL MARYR U!! LOLL
just kidding tom i know i sed id marry u!!!
AND I LUV U 2 JULIEN! LOLLLL August 12 I'VE JUST WRITTEN THE TWO GREATEST SONGS OF ALL TIMEThis song is a ballad. A song about hope. I hope it inspires you as much as I was inspired when I wrote it. Dream Doctor: You're the doctor of my dreams, baby.
You're the dentist of my future.
You're the podiatrist of my past, baby.
You're the gynacologyst of TODAAAAAAY
DREAM DOCTOR
WON'T YOU BAKE ME A DREAM
DREAM DOCTOR
HOLD ME SO CLOSE
DREAM DOCTOR
TAKE MY TEMPERATURE PLEASE
DREAM DOCTOR
Can I go into work, today?
You're the golden ray of hope, in this desolate world!
Giving aid out to children, medication to the poor!
Smashing down diseases like a thunderous boulder!
And when I need to cry, you'll always lend your disinfected shoulder!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH DREAM DOCTOR WHERE HAVE YOU GONE? *guitar solo* You're the doctor of my nightmare, baby.
You're the paediatricion of childrens stories.
You're the obstetricion of folklore, baby!
You're the proctologist that we all feared!
NIGHTMARE DOCTOR GET OUT OF MY SLEEPLAND
NIGHTMARE DOCTOR
YOU GAVE ME THE CLAP
NIGHTMARE DOCTOR
IF YOU MUST TAKE MY TEMPERATURE PLEASE TAKE IT ORALLY
NIGHTMARE DOCTOR
Won't you let me die? :( (this part is rapped) Dinky die, and true blue.
The nightmare doctor be comin' after you.
Frizzle frazzle, hoppity twain
You fuck with me, and I'll fuck with your brain!
You mother fuck be frontin' in my shit?
I'll fuck with your ballsack, then I'll shit on your dog.
Dancing like a mother fucker and his mother fucking bong.
Takin' hits like a jew-boy, blastin' shit like a niggah does best
Hippity hoppity won't we fly straight tomorrow?
Rastafarian rules, please, don't be all up in my barbecue.
I've fucked yo' cut, and I'll fuck yo' mother too.
Blasted doctor, you've affroned me so!
You best appease me, or I'll appease on yo' face.
Fuck 'dat shit, bro.
Fuck it good n' hard.
THIS BE TEH SHIT SEVEN COLOURS IF IT'S A DAY Don't be bleeding on my face when I bust up your place!
Don't be fuckin' my woman, 'lest you wanted to rest in peace.
Hippity dawg, G-wap spanky the poodle.
I'll squeeze your dick like half-a-dozen frangipanis
You won't look so pretty no more after that.
Fuck yeah. For realz.
Ok, this next song is a rock n' roll classic in the making. It'll blow your face away with it's sheer power. It's called Busted Fingers: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH BABY
ooooooooooooooobaby baby baby please
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH BABY
ooooooooooooooobaby baby I got needs!
I'm a cowboy, riding on his tiny HORSE
Looking for a lady, looking for that mystery SAUCE
Guitar on my back, drumkit for SHOES
Keyboard on my head, and I'm singing the BLUES
Baby, you rocked my world for that one night.
Baby, are you the love of my life, you just might (be)
Baby, you're touch must have been carcenogenic,
Because you've given me something that I just can't get rid of, and it's tearing me APARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT
BABY I'LL COME CRASHING DOWN ON YOU LIKE THUNDER
BABY I'LL BE LOUD AND NOISY LIKE LIGHTNING
HONEY PIE PLEASE TAKE ME BACK, BACK, BACK
SUGAR DROPS I NEEED YOU. I NEED YOU TONIGHT
You're the acid rain, falling down on my neighbohood!
My neighborhood of love!
You're the pollution filling up my skies!
My skies of longing!
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH BABY
ooooooooooooooobaby baby baby please
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH BABY
ooooooooooooooobaby baby I got needs!
I'm a big man, with his big man NEEDS
I'm looking for a fight, gonna strike someone until he BLEEDS
But really I just want my mother, and be safe in her ARMS
Because this rough outer exterior just hides my inner QUALMS
Baby, I'll kill mother fuckers if you ask me to!
Baby, I'm living in a mad house, what do you want me to do?
Baby, I'll rock a whole stadium, then I'll rock your world!
Baby, I'm a rock star, but I'm still just a boy and I want to be in your arms TONIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT
BABY I KNOW I'M NOT PERFECT BUT THEN AGAIN WHO IS?
BABY I KNOW YOU GOT NEEDS AND I GOT THE NEEDS TO GIVE!
HONEY PIE I'VE COME RIDING INTO TOWN TO TAKE YOU BACK!
SUGAR DROPS I NEED YOU. I NEED YOU TONIGHT
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH BABY
ooooooooooooooobaby baby baby please
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH BABY
ooooooooooooooobaby baby I'm sorry.
*ROCKIN GUITAR SOLO*
I'm a one-man army, in this down and our world... August 11 I've written a novel! However, I haven't begun to look for a publisher, so now, unabridged, and unmerciless: The Trafalga Flower.As of June 15th all of the following characters will be DEAD. Our story starts June 13th, two days before our story inevitably, inexorably, and irrevocably reaches it's cessation. Please, read on, WILL YOU?>?? CHAPTER ONE: The Reckoning in Correlation with Myself. "It's a funny thing, isn't it?" Asked Kilroy, of no-one in particular. And good thing, too, as there was no-one around. Upon realizing as such, he chortled raucously. A little TOO raucously as it turned out. As he aroused the interested of the other people standing at the mens urinals. Inextriccably lugubrious over his gaffe, he moped to the side, and slumped in the corner, like a pile of roses cut from the stems and left to wilt in the sweltering January sun of Autumn in medievil Netherlands, collected by the homoless, and buried under the ground as though garbage, without even a modicum of the beauty they once possessed, and inspiried. And slump he did, in a temultuous dance of nonplussed sobriety. "Tony?" Asked Madelaine. Of someone in particular. However, not of the person she thought she was adressing, and as such, and as a direct result of such, and thusly was not met with words, but rather stares of indignation over her probably walking into the wrong restrooms. And then asking a question with which she directed attention to her like a big fat redundant turtle singing opera as he got off the bus at someone elses stop. She was raped, in a not literal, nor metaphorical sense. But rather phantasmagorical. It never happened of course, but she was in the restrooms of the LOONY BIN and peasantly exchanging word with the men whose minds had long since been torn asunder by the anguished cries of doves, falling from heaven in a downward spiral of incontenance and inCOUNTenance! A horrible dichotomy, the likes of which is rarely encountered on your average polo field, which Madelaine once accidentally visited with her since deceased father while he was on an alcohol fueled killing rampage. His wife loved him, once, he mused to himself on at least one occasion, and to others on at least 3 occasions. Of course, his unmitigated ambivilance towards his wife was purported to have stemmed from his grandfather. A stern man. Both severe and wrinkly. Although the latter mostly towards the later years of his life. And of course the first few which occurred between 67 to 68 years before his death. Born to a rich migrant from Pangea, and an unemployed person of female variety who didn't migrate from anywhere. And it was this union which spawned 19 children, and 14 blankets before they both died in a horrible horrible fire only a matter of years after their births to two completely different sets of parents. Quiltmakers from WAY back they were. Born with skin so silky smooth, you could eat off it like a plate of spaghetti, made out of dream-sauce, and accompanied by your choice of wine made from the grapes of heaven, or soup made with the cauliflower of heaven. The 7th cousin of Alexander the Relatively Adequate, was one of them. And rightfully so, being born the way he was. Out of a vagina, no less. Elsewhere, three children are murdered by a man in a black robe. No one except his immediate family, friends and coworkers know who he is. But it's unlikely that any of them are aware that he's committed this mysterious crime. He stabbed them in the faces and bottoms with his steely gaze! Before disembowling them with his verdant gun! "Bloomin' heck!" He exclaimed, humourously, yet galvanised. Like so much corrigated iron being splattered upon from the heavens in a firey downpoor of wetness! "Magnanimous to the bitter end.." He though to himself, erroneously. "WHO GOES THERE???" Said someone, in another part of the country. And it was in this part of the country that a conversation was embarked. CHAPTER 2: A Brief Conversation That Eends Abruptly Iinterspersed Wtih Humour And Flirtatious Remarks *yet to be written* CHAPTER 3: The Reckoning ruins everything for one man! *yet to be written* CHAPTER 4: Doomsday Tomorrow. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 5: Today We Cry, Tomorrow We're Dead. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 6: Flame on! *yet to be written* CHAPTER 7: Flaming on! *yet to be written* CHAPTER 8: The Cooling Down of Bigsby. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 9: Flame off! *yet to be written* CHAPTER 10: Butterflies are everywhere! *yet to be written* CHAPTER 11: One Hell of a Show! *yet to be written* CHAPTER 12: God, You're Beautiful. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 13: A Delicate Flower Turns Into a Killing Machine. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 14: How's that??? CHAPTER 15: Almost dead, but not dead enough! *yet to be written* CHAPTER 16: A Brief Interlude. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 17: The Day The World Ceased To Smile. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 18: The Day The Clowns Cried *yet to be written* CHAPTER 19: Death Comes to the Lucky. Sorrow Comes to the Survivors. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 20: Unyielding, Unprecedented Pain. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 21: Take Me, Too. I Bed You, End This Torture. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 22: POOL PARTY!!!!!!!!!! *yet to be written* CHAPTER 23: The Final Reckoning. *yet to be written* CHAPTER 24: It's All Over.... As the water drained from his eyes like water draining from the floor of a recently wet room in the midst of a stormy August day in Summer in a beehive in Australia, his eyes drained themselves of water. Like so much surreptitious captivity, counterbalanced by the poignant reminder of delapedated and depraved quixotic annonymity undulated by the perterbations of clandestine entymologist's poo, our scion is capacious, and receptive to knowledge. The knowledge of a lost generation is now his. Osmotically aquired through not so osmotic means, he is scant. He looks over his hands, which are held up near his eyeballs. and surveys the remains of a lost civilisation. Kilroy thinks to himself: Kilroy said: "I love you Madelaine. Like a duck loves eating worms. I love you." Madelaine said: "I think you're shit hot like guacamole on nachos in the winter, you beaut." Kilroy said: "Fuck yeah. That's the shit AND a bag of wholesome potatoes. Sadly, I think I also love Bruce. But in a different way. So cheer up already!" Madelaine said: "Kilroy, come live with me, in my hovel. I built it for the two of us!" Madelaine said: "I'd love to Madelaine." Kilroy said: "Thanks Kilroy. I know we'd be great together recuilding this post-apocolyptic world." Kilroy said: "Thanks Madelain. I'm sure you'd be a great mother to my invalid child. Madelaine expressed: "Kilroy, you may have to fight my brother. Bruce. Who is standing right there." Milroy postulated: "Madelaine, Bruce is your brother? But I love him. How could I fight him to the death? The first one to die loses! You know that! That's always been the rules!" Kadelain emphasized: "But you must! Or I can never love you the way a flounder loves breathing oxygen in it's hefty lungs!" Kilroy blurted: "BUT WHY!??! Kilroy aired: "But I don't see.." Madelaine promulgated: "I, too, am flummoxed!" Kilroy mused: "By rights, I've been had! You're a charlatan! Nay, a swindler, and a duplicitous councilman from Maine, Tennessee!" Bruce interjected: "How dare you call my sister such things as what you just did!? I should have you in a stockade, raped by Englishmen with poor educations, if there were any left! Madelaine remarked: "Kilroy no! My heart may be fake, but my love is not??" Madelaine proclaimed: "I LOVE YOU, KILROY!" The trafalga flower lay dead. Steeped in human excrement. Resentful for it's treatment. The end.
Or is it? August 09 I SAW AN ORANGE TODAY THAT WAS GREEN!!! WTF IS UP WITH THAT!!??!?! SERIOUSLY MESSED WITH MY HEAD!!!!!!!!!111111 OMGToday I got a haircut.
Woooooah hold on now. I know what you're all thinking; "Gelatinous AND bulbous. Hah. I don't think I'll be putting THAT in my mouth any time soon.". And you'd be right of course. However, in a sense, you wouldn't be, seeing as it's completely non-sensical and apropos of absolutely nothing in particular. But I undress.
So it was just me in this hair salon, and the one hair-dresser, who, might I say was looking FINNNNNNNNNNNNE. I'm talking blonde hair, blue eyes. A real aryan treat. Nice juicy titties, fantastic ass, the sort of lips you look at and think "Man, that woman has lips". They're that noteworthy. And her pussy?> Ho HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Yeah. The pussy. How could I not mention that? She had on a pair of those pants that are made completely out of Glad Wrap so it was all totally see through, and air-tight, but man.. I could tell already that she most certainly did have a vagina.
So she's cutting my hair, and says to me; "So what would you like today?" To which I replied; "I'd tell you what I really want, but I'm afraid you'd slap me." At this point, she moves around in front of me, and gives me the look. The look. And I knew that I was in for a wild ride. She knelt down in front of me, unzipped my pants, and took my lad in her mou..
..well to cut a long story short, my hair cut wasn't quite what I expected considering I paid $600.
Other than that, I met up with a lovely young couple for lunch. Tom and Clara. Now, I must say, I don't normally answer adds for swingers in the paper, but when I saw these two, I just had to reply. And let me tell you, that did not disappoint. I couldn't stop looking at that sweet ass all day. Those long legs. Those luscious lips. Those swimming pool eyes, oh GOD. And Clara wasn't bad either.
Anyways, to end this post I'd like to say the following words:
- Obsequious
- Grandiloquent - Dodecahedron - Profligate
- Symmetrical
- Bodacious
- Conflagrated
- Saggy
- Glib
All words that adequately describe my penis.
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