the life of rock-star small mouth bass-like fish(ies). append your list of niceties here, and then replace nice with a creation that shadows your most excited state of being.
it all started out with two formen, drilling holes into a party scene that kept the spirit alive in both the letter and the decapitated latter. j1, plug extraordinaire and prodigy child winner of the 2007 Largest Plug without a Socket Award, while j2 had enticed monkey into a preliminary headlock, proceeded to award the latter party with the former party’s most dedicated piece of dentistry, a toothbrush. don’t fear what happened next. j2, upon discovering that spain had in fact defeated the british (in his dreams), then (and without doubt), extracted the foreign object from his sherwood forest of fairy-tales, three legged motorboats and detrimental affairs. it was tragic, but not as tragic as movie-speak. monkey was not impressed, of course. however, this time, instead of woofing, he barked and then bit.
d started to philosophize about suns and their correlation with other proximity objects, like [more] suns, neighbours and other first year anomalies. requirements aside, it all really started with a blow of the horn, a vicarious attempt at reminding the south-side that the kid they call ‘oprea’ really did exist and was not just a distant cousin of the party animal loch-ness. fuck you. and fuck snow white and the seven little chemists. how about that for a feature film review?
snow-fights only happen when wild colombians embrace pacifism with the intent to prosecute freedom and the expression of reproduction. without any concern for wild animals, small foreign game, or other superior creatures, the anti-socialist riot begun. left. right. back degrees. similarities, differences, exponential criticism – they all survived without the consequences of settled dust. and then there was the biggest government intervention of the Year of the Ceasca; consider this: if nicaragua had pinochet, we would all have been incarcerated for eating ice-cream and sucking lolly-pops.
d said mommy. or maybe it was mummy or maw-ma-wee. it’s the sun allusion that still survives. and then whisky was mixed with chili and they all spoke tongues that have not been heard for seventy-four dog years (ears are for the phonetically challenged, those with ADD and prolonged dyslexia).
some chevys, some levies, some pasta and s just asked if we’re blogging. d is talking about santa-claws. “and he let them know that he ain’t kidding.” t3, a strong chemical in and of itself wants to tell you a joke: “chuck naw-mate-norris just counted to infinity.” it’s true and so is t3’s dedication to early-pubescent virgins. i spoke too soon… or maybe it’s chuck norris that has that proclivity. fucking precocious.
nbc? mal-infringement? left and right leg? water? watertight? who the fuck is g4?
don’t read the below, read the above.
j3 wants to spank my monkeys, although, we will concede that the real monkey can’t and won’t have any of that nonsensical shenanigan(s with four plural ss).
here comes the 2007 award winner: “crocodiles without gats? small kittens? or fluffy snowballs, but really, i wouldn’t use that word to be perfectly honest with you…
ok, you can read now but skip…the diseased pet and the one-eyed flying purple people eaters…
p.s. t3 spilled a 97% empty can of ginger-ale on the macbook. donkey ass.