Ok ok, so here we are again for another week in the mind of a master of the Primus inter pares effect or was that victim of imposter syndrome? Hmm I don't know maybe I should go down to the hardware store and grab some dynamite.....then throw it at a Brady Bunch parade while quitting lines from Frasier. But I never was a big fan of Frasier or Mr T chains...I was more a fan of drinking diesel and dressing up like an Islam fundamentalist in with a chainsaw for Halloween and passin out toilet sandwiches with a thousand yard stare....
Don't appreciate me because I hate you. This is like a debate of how debase I can be, and since no one in my household can or does read my blogs I get free reign for the next....ten years of so. I guess its like being a porn star, it's cool till your kids get old enough to know. Unless of course you don't care and want to mentally scar them....well I suppose them going to get their jollies and seeing mom or dad's naked ass on the screen with donkey Jake or huge Helga wouldn't really help their mental condition any...so maybe just come out and tell them you did it even if you didnt?
Tonight only on roadhouse.....no not really but you sure did drop some pie thinking roadhouse had a series. Well that or thinking that episode of family guy was back on, and haven't you noticed Im banging these blogs out like the fags over at Trion bang out gimpy Iranian dudes? That's an inside joke....well Im sure by this point no one will get it but hey it's worth the effort and a word is a word just as well as a turd is a candy bar laying on the bathroom sink at Walmart. Yes I have heard about people shitting in candy wrappers, though I have not seen it I whole heatedly do believe that shit....literally no pun intended is true.
Every time I think I can sit back and take another break from the blog....it sucks me back in. It's like the worlds in Seinfeld....and no I wont explain them if you don't know about the worlds....I used to play online games, or just games in general well, too much. Now even before many more major responsibilities are to come crashing down on me...and not like looney toons I mean like utter splat powdered bone and intestinal juice crashin level shits, I just quit playing. Why? I don't know, maybe because I quite smoking some time ago, maybe because I finally got tired of the established you do this being dictated by some no dick never got pussy even if they paid for it fan bois that still live in the mom's basement. Maybe it was because people I know trying to epeen on a game that I was better at but didn't have enough time to spend my entire life on proving it.
So I'm a cynic it seems. I know your probably getting back up off the floor right now because like me you were knocked out of your chair in shock on that one. But In looking on these here inter webs it seems maybe I have become a soft cynic? You know that just sounds nasty kinda like....aids infested SARS spreading glass eye chicken head. Soft....fucked up word to men, soft is OK if its my bed or chair or like a cookie, but not my cynical nature. So what if you are a cynic because its your thing?
The Sinatra is on, its not too late but not early, and here we are. Well here you are since I have long since written this and went about my business. The issue I regret to inform you for this piece of pseudo entertainment is.....well, I was going to say because I have no material but that's why you take notes as inspiration hits especially when the ole short term starts going south like a pair of knockers on an eighty year old hooker.
When you sign up in a relationship...there are a couple of things...at least in my world you should consider. One of these is does this female have friends? Family? Anyone that may keep her sole attention off of you if so needed. This also goes for your Gomez Adams lookin asses too men, not having any friends or selling them up river when you get the first taste of that promise of pussy is like playing Russian roulette with six bullets. See you do not want the whole universe to be your or her, this is really really self destructive ego maniacal self absorbed self conscious ridiculousness.
Maybe we should go back to basics. Smoke cigarettes drink booze and go hoe hopping. Maybe just kick back and relish in the style that these motherfuckers picked up in the way back machine like their name was Mr. Peabody. I don't know where the sense of sensibility bit me but I think it has so I have to take a time out everyone once in a while to show that reality though I am a master of it....still holds no true chains on me. I can escape it just as well as any internet slum whore you see down on the corner of Madison and Orleans, though I choose to not to share this fate when I step back from the real, I still need a vacation every once in a while.