Archive for November, 2008

Jail Blows

Three Little MaidsSo yeah,

I was on my way to Chairman Moo’s Granola-torium and Soy-Milk Dispensery and I only had enough for a dried lentil and chickpea salad with chunky tofu non-dairy linseed-oil based topping, and not enough money for anything else.  So I got to the subway turnstile, and I didn’t have my subway card, because MacKenie used it to clean the cat’s infected anus.  So I thought, public transportation shoud be free for free-thinkers.  I’m a free-thinker because nobody pays me to think… yet!  I jumped the turnstile in front of some cops, and I totally thought I could get away with it, because I am more smarter than they were.  One of them grabbed me and I screamed “don’t commit your hate crime here, facist!” and he tazered me.  I peed myself a little bit and dropped my hemp bag.  Dude, it’s a big bag, not a purse.  Okay, I took it from my ex-girlfriend so that’s why it has some lipstick and a diaphragm in it, but it’s totally not a purse.  It’s an urban tote by Liz Claybourne.

Yeah, I regained consciousness in a holding cell in Brooklyn with this big guy named Molly.  He made me sing “My Galliant Crew, Good Morning” from Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinnafore.  I had to dance and sing it until I cried. Eventually one of the cops came over and took me out of the cell and made me dance and sing selections from the Mikado in the middle of the precinct.  Dude, I totally nailed Three Little Maids, but I pranced so hard, I almost went Nanki Poo in my unisex overalls.  After that, they booked me, by paddling me with an autographed copy of Paul Reiser’s book, Couplehood.  Then they took my fingerprints and photographed me in compromising positions.  Then they took some mugshots.

I totally know what it is like to be a political prisoner now, just like Nelson Mandella, Ghandi and Betty Ford.  I was kept there for my radical beliefs about free transportation for free spirits.  After I finished my cake and ice cream, they released me into the cruel world, but I emerged a free man… even if I wasn’t filled to the brim with girlish glee.

Peace!

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I’m all about Bella Sara

So yeah,

I’m totally into this card game called Bella Sara.  It’s not like those card games that dweebs play like Magic: The Gathering, Illuminati, or stud poker.  It’s totally cool, because it’s noncompetitave and all zen-like.  It has these inspirational messages like “You can climb huge mountains if you choose your paths wisely,” or “Start each day with a happy thought.”  It even has really cool esoteric messages like “Do not back up, severe tire damage” and “Employees Must Wash Hands Before Returning to Work!”  I totally log onto the website, where I can groom my horse and pimp it out with ribbons and bows n’ shit.  I can make my horse the pretty princess that I’ve always wanted.  It’s cool, because it’s a real virtual horse, and not a pony, because ponies are for facists.

I like it, because I can play challenging horsey games like “Magic Bubble Wand” and “Cloud Jumper,” and if I do good enough, I can earn awards and horseshoes, which is what they use for cash in the Bella Sara world.  The website says it’s for pre-teen girls, but I don’t see what the problem is.  It’s totally cool, and sophisticated Vassar-bound intellectuals like me can totally benefit from exploring its complex worlds.  That, and I can earn horseshoes so I can buy items for my cottage, like animals, furniture, decorations, “wonders” toys, and even extra rooms.  I don’t have any toys anymore, because my ex girlfriend melted a bunch that wern’t dishwasher safe.  She said she destroyed them because all those brainless dildos lying around reminded her of me.

So yeah, I’m a leet gamer these days, and I’m so cutting edge, you wouldn’t understand how smart I are.

Peace!

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Dude, I’m all about Turkish Bidets

So yeah,

I was at this oriental supermarket and I was buying a new stash of pachouli oil and some exotic Japanese Fun-Fun Umbrella Juice and I had to drop a mega-load of dookie.  So I went to the men’s room and there was this toilet that was totally out of star trek ‘n shit. It totally had buttons all over it and it was like pimped out in bright pink with a hello kitty sticker on it, just like my skateboard! So I sat down and dropped the kids off at the pool while facing the tank. Swami Vindaloo says that it is one of the auspicious positions toward enlightenment.  I like it because it makes it harder for me to accidentally pee onto the back of my pants when I’m stoned. I got kinda bored, because I had Colombian food last night, and the taffy apples and beef jerky made me squirt out an awful mess, so I pushed the button that looked like a ‘W’ with a finger going into it. This robot arm totally came out of the bowl and squirted me in the bunghole with warm water. It was totally cool to shiver with a spasm of ecstasy when I felt the seductive moisture caress my tight fanny… It was like the water was exploring my every nook and cranny, reducing me to a mound of oozy pleasure. It’s totally not gay! Fuck You! Shut the fuck up!

Yeah… then I went to leave, and I wanted to know what the other button did, so I pressed it.  The hello kitty toilet sprayed a jet of water right into my junk through my pants.  it was cold and made me uneasy.  It also looked like I totally pissed myself. I walked out of the bathroom, so I could go pick up a new pair of unisex overalls from The Gap (because the people at The Comfort Zone told me to stop trying on the silk-panty-garments because they’re facists).  When I got out there, I ran into my ex girlfriend who violated me with a Pez dispenser.  She was totally there with MacKenzie and they both laughed at my wet private area.  I asked them to please not point, but they did anyway.  I totally started crying and ran out of the store.  I ended up hiding in Dr. Mengele’s Container Emporium and Lid Dispensery until my junk was air-dry.  Fuck you, MacKenzie, Fuck you with something hard and sandpapery!

Peace!

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I’m going to Vassar cuz I’m smart!

So yeah, I was talking to this guy named Carson at I Shot Fred Mertz, and he told me that he is totally Micheal Dudikoff’s personal assistant.  That is totally cool!  Carson says that he can use his connections with Dudikoff to get me into a real college, like the DeVry Institute, Vassar, or even Burroughs College… in Brooklyn!  He says that if I clean his office and I occasionally put my finger in his mouth, he’ll get Dudikoff to write me a totally bitchin letter of recommendation that tells them how more smarter I am than the other people applying.  This will totally show those fascists at the SAT testing facility that I’m smart n’ shit.  They gave me a combined 260 on my test, just because I didn’t get all the questions right and I spelled my name with a six.  Anybody who got an 1800 or better is a jerk or a crybaby who cheated.  Dude, I don’t know what a regatta is, and I still don’t get what effervescent is.  I thought that was that chick who sings in that band.

The essay portion is total bullshit, because I write good.  I didn’t do so hot, because they can’t handle my sophisticated musings.  In fact, I wrote a brilliant essay on postmodernism’s impact on qualitative analysis of American history.  It was so brilliant because I wrote my essay by tracing my hand and drawing a beak on it, making it a turkey.  I brought my own crayons, because I think outside of their instruction box telling me to limit myself to writing about global warming with a number two pencil.  I totally colored in all of the tail feathers and then I drew a penis.  It totally showed that I have an imaginative and daring view on history.  But I’ll show them… I’ll show them all!

Peace!

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Beautiful and Expensive Silk Panty-Garments For Me!

So yeah, I was having an arguement with my ex girlfriend because she’s a total bitch.  She’s on my case becuse when she threw me out of her apartment, I took some of her underwear.  I don’t know what her problem is.  She’s got dead rich parents who gave her a trust fund, and her panties smell so nice.  That, and her pastel panties fit me so well.  We’re totally the same size, and why shouldn’t I have the support and comfort that I deserve?  Dude, it’s so totally not gay to wear girl’s panties.  Actually they should be unisex, but Victoria’s secret puts girl tags in them because they are facists.  Oh, and she’s pissed at me because I swallowed all of her birth control pills, because I thought they were tic-tacs.  She got even madder when she found out that I replaced them with extacy pills.  That was around the same time she ran away from the apartment and disappeared for a few days.  once they let her out of rehab she came back and burned my AIDS quilt.  I took a pair of scissors and stole that chunk fair and square when the exhibit was visiting New York.  She’s totally a bitch, and I hope she goes back to Vermont and drowns in a big vat of maple syrup.

Peace!

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