Tuesday, February 25, 2003


What a kettle of donkey squirt. A two dollar shirt with a flakey old gert. And then auntie fert calls up with a blanket spanking blershey shirt. Ain’t that quirt? And to top it off a bucket of blurt.

Sooo fukn stupid, is what I feel to write right now. You cannot fight it, it’s like megatron 3 on a space needle central 211. If you have access to Brandon’s hidden iba then maybe you’ll understand jaquiline bissette’s frame of thinking involving zhing zhang and papa wang.

That’s a chung big daddy. On a first and one. Give it to Barry. He’ll juke and he’ll shiver and he’ll make grandpappy Sammie get I’ll gerked and giggly and then it’ll be time for the okefenokee swamp retirement organization picnic on every Tuesday since 1343 in ol frank mcgertle’s abandoned farm.

If you want to make it to Barry Sander’s super special card signing at the corner of Figueroa and Thompson then get out your Thomas guide, have to be page 72, and right there in square E-4 you’ll find Hibi Jamb Bolt’s Taxi service. There’s a guy named Louie there works the business counter, know whut I mean? He’ll have the directions to the egg collection agency that can get you the proper coordinates and then you’ll be ALL hooked up. Free Barry Sanders’ signed footballs, posters, changers, dog collars, bumper stickers, aftershave, signature series jumping shoes and beanbag chairs. And don’t quote me on it but I BELIEVE that it will be acceptable to ask him when and if he’s coming out retirement and playing for the Oaktown Faders. He will not I repeat NOT under any circumstances whatsoever ever be getting into any type of uniform associated with a horse or donkey.

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