If you go to downtown Frederick, don't forget me!
I got pre-faded jeans and a "Tap Out" tee.
Yeah that's my 'Stang sittin' next to the curb
On the way here it was crankin Disturbed.
My jeans have a tear, But I don't care,
I have twenty seven scoops of gel in my hair
Muscle milk for breakfast, beer for lunch
Drink a whole lot, hungover a bunch
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Pond Chunt
Yeah those twats with the bumper stickers that say
"In Loving Memory of Chuck Jenkins 1956-2008"
What is in loving memory? The car?
"I humbly dedicate this Honda CR-V to Chuck's life. He was such a CR-V type of guy. I mean, to have an automatic car that comes with windshield wipers...it is such a Chuck-Mobile."
Yeah I got a Chuck-Mobile for you. (I am holding up both middle fingers 1/2 a deciliter from my monitor). Fuck Chuck. Chuck it up your ass. Who wants to see this? If a loved one of mine ate it the last thing I'd want to see when I looked in my rear mirror is some pseudo-heartfelt plaque dedicated to them. What the crust?
Come to think about it the people that do this might be smart. It takes determination to ride someone's ass that has a loving memory sticker. But it's not like the people with these stickers are the only ones to have known someone that died so I say ride their ass!
Now if the lifespan reads 2000-2003 or some shit that's pretty rough. For the kid! They must have been terrible parents, so ride these peoples' ass too! No one gets off free! No free lunch! No free luncheon! It's almost like they're bragging.
Sometimes the ass riding is incidental because the years will be in fine print. I mean if I read that some fuck died I at least want to know how old he (or it) was. 48? Cool. 63? Even worse.
From a distance*I think it might be some cool OBX sticker! Or some anti-Bush shit! Eh, fuck. Someone died.
They should put the reason. They're starting a story and not finishing it.
"In Loving Memory of Chuck Jenkins 1956-2008. He was str8 stabbed. He played cards. He ate beef and pork. He didn't do lent. His middle name wasn't lent. He lent his neighbor a grass. He lentil soup. Chuck had no luck, Chuck did get stuck, Chuck what the fuck, Chuck in the muck."
Oh ok. Thank you. Now I know Chuck. Thank you his wife. Put your number on there too baby I know you can't be too busy these days! HEY! HO! Chuck-o!
These assholes are only rivaled by the people that put the squiggly outlines of their family holding hands. And the dog! And the cat! CUTE!
Are you just verifying that your existence is as predictable as your Tercel and its being parked outside of Target would have me believe? Yes. You left your coupons in the car, whore.
The two ideas should be combined. Just get the squiggly outline sticker and when someone takes the shaft, cross'em out! Big red X. That sounds like my 80's drug dealer name that correlates to my current Facebook profile picture photo.
There was an MS-DOS version of Facebook called Peergroup. It was sweet. You didn't know much but you knew who your friends were (Biff, Larry, and Sariah). Your profile consisted of a stock 8-bit photo of what you probably looked like. You picked a favorite number that had to be 1-9 but you could get the $42.00 Expansion Pak that extended that pantheon of digits to 17.5 but not 12.
*The comments on this are priceless. "God is still in controle"
"In Loving Memory of Chuck Jenkins 1956-2008"
What is in loving memory? The car?
"I humbly dedicate this Honda CR-V to Chuck's life. He was such a CR-V type of guy. I mean, to have an automatic car that comes with windshield wipers...it is such a Chuck-Mobile."
Yeah I got a Chuck-Mobile for you. (I am holding up both middle fingers 1/2 a deciliter from my monitor). Fuck Chuck. Chuck it up your ass. Who wants to see this? If a loved one of mine ate it the last thing I'd want to see when I looked in my rear mirror is some pseudo-heartfelt plaque dedicated to them. What the crust?
Come to think about it the people that do this might be smart. It takes determination to ride someone's ass that has a loving memory sticker. But it's not like the people with these stickers are the only ones to have known someone that died so I say ride their ass!
Now if the lifespan reads 2000-2003 or some shit that's pretty rough. For the kid! They must have been terrible parents, so ride these peoples' ass too! No one gets off free! No free lunch! No free luncheon! It's almost like they're bragging.
Sometimes the ass riding is incidental because the years will be in fine print. I mean if I read that some fuck died I at least want to know how old he (or it) was. 48? Cool. 63? Even worse.
From a distance*I think it might be some cool OBX sticker! Or some anti-Bush shit! Eh, fuck. Someone died.
They should put the reason. They're starting a story and not finishing it.
"In Loving Memory of Chuck Jenkins 1956-2008. He was str8 stabbed. He played cards. He ate beef and pork. He didn't do lent. His middle name wasn't lent. He lent his neighbor a grass. He lentil soup. Chuck had no luck, Chuck did get stuck, Chuck what the fuck, Chuck in the muck."
Oh ok. Thank you. Now I know Chuck. Thank you his wife. Put your number on there too baby I know you can't be too busy these days! HEY! HO! Chuck-o!
These assholes are only rivaled by the people that put the squiggly outlines of their family holding hands. And the dog! And the cat! CUTE!
Are you just verifying that your existence is as predictable as your Tercel and its being parked outside of Target would have me believe? Yes. You left your coupons in the car, whore.
The two ideas should be combined. Just get the squiggly outline sticker and when someone takes the shaft, cross'em out! Big red X. That sounds like my 80's drug dealer name that correlates to my current Facebook profile picture photo.
There was an MS-DOS version of Facebook called Peergroup. It was sweet. You didn't know much but you knew who your friends were (Biff, Larry, and Sariah). Your profile consisted of a stock 8-bit photo of what you probably looked like. You picked a favorite number that had to be 1-9 but you could get the $42.00 Expansion Pak that extended that pantheon of digits to 17.5 but not 12.
*The comments on this are priceless. "God is still in controle"
Friday, September 10, 2010
Ham Sandwich
Golf is a funny game. White people decided that MOWING down forests and throwing away the resources for cookie cutter row houses wasn't enough.
When this country began to develop, our founding father (Scott Johnson) realized that something else needed to occupy the space that trees and animals and other ANNOYING shit took up.
"There's got to be......something else..." he thought. And that is golf. It's what white people do.
Seriously I felt like I was walking on clouds when I was first eligible to play a round of golf with my father. It was like I was elevated to a whole new level of manhood. I was no longer that loser little kid just riding in the cart eating crackers and asking my dad what a handicap was. No. I was a man. I am a man I mean. I just mean to say I started to be a man then. Italics make things into little honorable whispers or something. Ssshh. Be quiet.
Old men have the biggest hard-on* for golf. It's as if they're doing a service for their country or something. They act all humble and follow rules like not standing behind another guy putting. They help find the other guy's balls (uh oh!). By that I mean rub the other guy's testicles while they give them a handjob at the halfway house! Oops! I mean they seperate the guy's ass cheeks and ram their firm dick in between them multiple times until they CUM into the ass. You know, guy shit. Guy crap.
I deviate. But it is a game taken very seriously. It's like Men of Honor when you step up to the tee box or let another fella putt first.
It's just funny. Having said all of this I can't get enough of the game and Brad if you're reading this ya devil you owe me two skins! Haha forgive but don't forget, right pal? Huh Brad? Huh? Hehehe I TOLD you I was on that day. Ahhhh, man. Good times. See you in the club house buddy get me a cold one we'll call it even.
It's how white people roll man. It's what we do.
*This means hard cock of your shaft of your penis and tight balls too.
When this country began to develop, our founding father (Scott Johnson) realized that something else needed to occupy the space that trees and animals and other ANNOYING shit took up.
"There's got to be......something else..." he thought. And that is golf. It's what white people do.
Seriously I felt like I was walking on clouds when I was first eligible to play a round of golf with my father. It was like I was elevated to a whole new level of manhood. I was no longer that loser little kid just riding in the cart eating crackers and asking my dad what a handicap was. No. I was a man. I am a man I mean. I just mean to say I started to be a man then. Italics make things into little honorable whispers or something. Ssshh. Be quiet.
Old men have the biggest hard-on* for golf. It's as if they're doing a service for their country or something. They act all humble and follow rules like not standing behind another guy putting. They help find the other guy's balls (uh oh!). By that I mean rub the other guy's testicles while they give them a handjob at the halfway house! Oops! I mean they seperate the guy's ass cheeks and ram their firm dick in between them multiple times until they CUM into the ass. You know, guy shit. Guy crap.
I deviate. But it is a game taken very seriously. It's like Men of Honor when you step up to the tee box or let another fella putt first.
It's just funny. Having said all of this I can't get enough of the game and Brad if you're reading this ya devil you owe me two skins! Haha forgive but don't forget, right pal? Huh Brad? Huh? Hehehe I TOLD you I was on that day. Ahhhh, man. Good times. See you in the club house buddy get me a cold one we'll call it even.
It's how white people roll man. It's what we do.
*This means hard cock of your shaft of your penis and tight balls too.
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