Friday, February 24, 2006

Let me teach you of owl.

Its a problem, I admit. It started as a simple hobby, but quickly became an obsession. I tried hard to disavow subnunctual references, but now I am hopeless. Strapped I am, to a leather bear chair of my own unmoral fecundity. Its not that I am a bad person, I just find myself in situations beyond my control. I feel that I am sometimes trapped in situations where i MUST add value to an unecessary product.

I have an obsession, an issue, that I must discuss. It can be devastating and disturbing. It wrecks innocent nests and people alike. It is not me, though, and I cannot help my poor decision making thanks to mother K. It grips and sears, I spend hours thinking "why am I just sitting in this chair doing nothing when I could be sitting in this chair incapable of anything?"

But that is not my problem. That might be the solution. Neither is my own proclivity for stealing tiny dogs from the purses of modern urban elderly ladies.

My problem is more difficult, more than my tendency to scream 'weasel!' in the local authentic Malaysian Karaoke bar. Deeper even than my love for voyeuristic tapes of midgets having illicit relations with the last existing automat machines at the preservation societies 'useless American shit' graveyard. Deeper than my love of text messaging.

My problem, unfortunately is undefinable: it starts from my morning sickness caused by my late nights screaming at Edsel. My afternoons are worse. In the evening, I usually retire to the yert for an extended session of Qluetixoxaxoctl.

Its more than that though. I have tried; God have I tried to break the pattern, the system. But you know, that the system is, in fact, a joke. I have dreads now. They express my individuality. Also I take hormones to lactate so I can breastfeed the neighborhood dogs.

Occasionally I take a shit in my living room, just to teach a lesson to the carpet. Motherfucker, that shit pisses me off. So does my new invention: AidsAgotchi! . AidsAgotchi! is a virtual pet that you buy as a crack baby and have to raise it and watch it defy expectations as it remains alert and witty through even the most boring school lectures while the fetal alcohol syndrome kids ride their BigWheels in the wall so they can catch the wrong angle and smash their balls in on the drinking fountain spigot and feel a real emotion once in their clouded, inebrieated lives. AidsAgotchi! has 20 levels of entertainment until the final boss, which has nothing to do with your virtual pets life and everything to do with a secret stabbing needle that gives you AIDS.

I expect it to be very popular in Eurasia. Thats something that pisses me off.

But its probably not my problem. I think thats something to take up with the electrical engineers union.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Wag the SnatchSnot!

A pome;;

tONTO Badgeslut deerfarce
how we lust the knife elbow
we teach you art lesson
your ass becomes cement.


And from there I let it go. Not because I am not the sentimal sort. I am. Somtimes I vreya t flag for appreciation. They told me I was in some kind of coma. So I told them to fuck off. I thought. My thoughts grew to cracks on the walls and those cracks grew worms. Its hard to convince others of your functionality when stricken play-dough worms are squirming pirouhettes around your stepnieces braids.

I thought I recovered. I though I was breathing until they shoved a rubber tube down my throat and told me I couldnt move enough to live. I laighed until I spewed coagulated streams of chick noodle soup out my brain.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Another Carnival Hello

Can you get these steaming children off of me? I'm parading my sweaty goods and I'll tell you, there's nothing scientific about it. Actually, I found a totally undiscovered region last week, and I'll tell you this: it's a boy.
Yes, that's right --- for inquiring minds, I tripped upon the expandable flesharrow of unperterbed membranes and it spoke:

'Carnival Hello! Tongues have lacerated themselves on my plot of green bigalow since the beginnings of time! We are sworn by the Mastodon Men to replace our collective wigwams with the lake of meat! Everyone relax --- I have a boobygun.'

After speaking, it's mouth moved to and fro in a friendly masticating gesture suggesting a Georgian greeting. In celebration, we all climbed down off of the statue of Fyodor Yamanishiko, spraying the revoltionary scent on the underside of the pavillion, or bladdern.

I'm not suggesting the Oriental uprising will favour the children, but they're small over here, and we're armed with soap for any crummy backtalk. I say, we're sick to death of the insipid puppets, fleeing with their hairy backsides to the wind! We need more and better relaxants! My electronic dictionary's broken, how can I raise the Byzantine armies?!?

Aha! I have troundled upon the loathsome guts of old world progress --- it's a capsized boat with two of you and three of me. We are a water wheel spinning in dysentry! Cancel my subscription to Carnival Sluts International --- I'm standing in sludge!

Saturday, February 11, 2006

If I Were You (Multiple Resin Marks Not Lial) Marsh

The ropeswing has swung out over the proverbial marsh.
I wanted this to be different so I made the marshland all mashed up like potato.
I found a waitress to take care of my burns.
I made a nightgown out of the potato roots growing from your potato.
Here is a picture of my uncle Faisal.
A sexy waitress swung out over the marsh, R.
Two blast it knights are scooping the real T of Sallyfornia.

My barbituate nightgown is peppered with tiny marshes.
My nightshirt is sweaty tonight with the news of a Marsh.
More later aboiut the marsh.
Hey, I was like woah.
Here is a picture of human marsh and mellow.
I didn't mean for this to be an apology, waitress.
My nightgown is festering and I got to take it off.
The ropeswing swung my nightgown out over the marsh.
My nightgown was empty!

Friday, February 03, 2006

Jesus would fucking slap you!

When to Seek Help

On rare occasions, children's masturbation habits may be an indicator of other problems. Parents should consult their children's health care provider if:

*Children's masturbation interferes with their social interactions.

*Techniques to eliminate public masturbation have failed.

*Parents have any concerns about their children's well being.

*Parents feel that their children are possibly not masturbating, but scratching or rubbing the genital area because of discomfort. It may be possible that such children have an infection or a rash.

*Masturbation is constant.