Friday, September 29, 2006

Best Idea? Vagina shurikens. See?

I think one good idea is a sex doll made of snackcake materials.  My grand vision is to take some kind of twikie material and fashion a big, sticky girl.  Probably it'll cost 7 dollars.

So anyway, the fun thing about this kind of sex doll is that when you're done doing your business (at the end of the night, or however you like to think of things in the privacy of your own house)... whenever you're actually done, you can then eat the doll.

Isn't that wonderful?

The only thing?  Beware the cream filling.  Sure you can eat some of it but you really have to beware around the crotchy region that you're getting the good stuff.

Knowing me I'd just eat and eat and then I'd be all...shit!  I ate my own spilled seed!  I'm surely going to hell, now!  lol.

But then I think, if you spill your seed and then quickly eat it, isn't that the same as not ever spilling it?

So in a way you can look at my invention as 3 things:

1)  Fun.

2)  Nutritious.

3)  Save your soul.

(This invention is not for girls.  Spongy snack cakes don't fit in vaginas (well, they do but they don't ever leave (a situation I'd like to find)).)

Thursday, September 28, 2006

je m'appelle pwnt

Know what's gross?


Spoons and forks made out of hair.

And chopsticks.

In fact the whole cutlery industry going to hair based products.  You could never have soup or any sticky food like a moist steak or pasta with red sauce (especially those really thin noodles).

You'd have to wrap all of your food in hard-candy shells and store them in your pockets.

Then you'd get the sugar diabetes and you'd die and be buried in a hair coffin and when I carried you to your grave your guts would leak out of it.

So let's not implement that plan.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Je t'ai pwndu, hee hee hee!

A lot of people don't understand why the French don't use the term pwnt as often as they should.

I understand.  It's not been conjugated into French and they can't see the link.

Please phone Jacques Chirac and tell him this conjugated form.

le pwnt:

je pwnde
tu pwndes
il/elle pwnde
nous pwndons
vous pwndez
ils/elles pwndent

Comment etiez-vous pwndu?

Avec la force sauvage!  Ho-ho-ho (lol)!!! (rofl)!!

Tell him it's like the simple verb perdre ... which means to lose like they lost that one world war so easily and like the loss of dignity to be sucking nazi cock so quickly after losing a war and using the magic word vichy to explain it.  

I mean don't use those words--I'm not good with French grammar--use the kind words that will get him to listen to us.  To you.

Also tell that bullshit French nation of clowns in Canada.

Also tell the Haitians.  You'll have to fly down there, though.  They don't have the innernet like we do.

Or bathrooms.

Monday, September 25, 2006

I think they're onto us

I wish I was a fainting goat.  The ones whom fall down dead whenever danger comes near.

How nice it is to say, it was the faint that got me ate, not my every effort but because of a genetic dis-effort.  How sweet that excuse.  You should write a song about fainting goats and perform it at the Grammys.

Or a fainting goat that has a speedy clown car to speed away from danger.  I could be that goat.


I see the mistake, to you?

That's right.  Lamb shit.  Well done, innernet.  You'll know science as good as me, soon.  And grammar!

Friday, September 22, 2006

Poop on your house, poop on your house, it's just little old me and I WILL poop on your house

I wish I had a clown car.  I'd ride the hell out of it.  Speedin down the street, knees hunched up, pants off, hair flying in the wind, honking the horn and hitting the children who won't get out of my way.

I'd walk up to someone and say, "Hello, you look just like a retard I used to know!"  

Then the cackling laughter and the thrusting of hips and the flop flop flopping of dong to thigh, dong to thigh, dong to chest.

Then, bam! Clown car!  Speeding away from all harm and maybe I'd poop a little to prevent chase.  A bit of a smoke screen but in poop log fashion.

Another thing?  I think the Jews should move to Salt Lake City so we can all tell our little private jokes about Jewtah.

But they won't cause they don't do things just to convenience me, anymore.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

And I won't poop on your house, either.

I dropped out of high school, I just couldn't fucking stand that bag--I needed to explore the real world, ya know?  Not some stodgy-ass books and shit.  Ok, that was a lie.  I was valedictorian and my speech went on for several hours and my mom said it was the best she ever heard.  And she was right.

Plus, if everyone pitches in 5 thousand dollars a piece to buy me the power of flight I'll pay your mortgages forever and I won't fly away when you come to me asking why I ain't paid your mortgage this month.  That's a solemn vow.

As the final thought I have had in this year I must admit that I have a new invention up my sleeve.  A good one.

This invention will condense all of the five days of the work week into one really bad day.  So you have one super shitty day, then the weekend.  Repeat this until you die!

I mean, people will yell at you and you'll cry and you'll miss deadlines but tomorrow is Saturday.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

May I sleep in your guest room for a thousand years?

Two things.

Thing one, no more Chuck Norris jokes, ok?  We get it.  He's tough.  It's no longer funny.  Plus?  He's a shitty actor and his kung fu is weak.

Second thing.

Remember when I used to think how bad it would be to have taste buds in your anal sphincter?

Well, it still seems like a bad idea.

But we should do it in rats just to validate.  We can call it the NHYM project but make NHYM stand for something about pyloric sphicters and taste buds therein.

We should also put bomb collars on the rats like in that movie Wedlock.  So they don't escape.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006

I wish there was a word for Jihad in white-talk.

If you had an Asian friend named Suzy and you referred to her in your head as Slant Eyed Suzy most people would consider you a racist.

But not me.  That's funny and really, you can't control sibilants and Asians and racial slurs and brain wave patterns.  I can, though.  It's wonderful.

And if she was fat and you said Sasquatch Suzy, that's also ok.  And if Fasian... well, you can see the pattern.

But if she's white and you call her sex-offender Suzy?  That's not funny at all.  It's hurtful and should be followed up with some ass kissing and lattes.

Monday, September 18, 2006

Sniff, sniff, it's a heart attack!

I'm not really sure what the Pope said about the Muslims, but he's right, it is about time we restart the crusades and bring those Muslim dogs to their knees and force them to accept Jesus Christ as their one true God, am I right?  Pope says I am.  He has a one way channel right up to space, too.  

Plus the Jews.  They're close, but not close enough for me.  For us, really.  You and me and your cousin with the guns.  Crazy Larry who just says he hunts but you know he has the love of blood in him.

Then might as well get the Indians.  Crazy fucking indians.  What are they thinking?  They're about plus five thousand too many gods.

Then the Chinaman.  First we convert him to Theism from pesky Atheism...THEN...Catholicism.  Two step process for the Asians.

Anyway...Anne Coulter and I don't think he should apologize, do you?  Be honest, we won't persecute you.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

If you don't have a hangover tomorrow then you've failed me

I sometimes wonder who the people that lay in bed all day and eat food and weigh 2000 pounds marry.

I gotta tell you, the let Ho lay in bed all day faction around my house is very weak.  Not to mention the bring Ho food till you need a chainsaw to get him out of the bedroom faction.  That faction is like a middle school pep rally at an anal warts convention.  Sure it exists.  But it's very rare.

Sometimes the let Ho lay in bed past three snooze faction isn't very good, neither.

One of the really good factions is have you made the fucking coffee yet, faction.

I tried to start a faction that was fuck you, why don't you make the coffee this morning, but it went nowhere.

And I do mean nowhere.

And why are marry and merry homonyms?

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Do you want an angst omlete? Well too bad, I'm eating it.

I like to think of poop logs as escape pods ejecting from a sinking ship.

Then I like to take a stick and break them up and sink them if they don't go right down to the bottom.

Then I giggle a little.

Then I type up false press reports about how an escape raft sank at see and all people aboard are presumed dead.

Then when I poop again I imagine that this is the rescue ship(s).

But bad news, it sinks too.

I also wish I had the power to make the following continents disappear:  China, the little countries around China except Japan and South Korea which are good guys, now, and also Africa except Madagascar and including the Middle East with a possible inclusion for India depending on my mood.

I also think I should be given one of those fat jewel pinky rings that all the fat business men wear.

With a great gold band and a blue bauble where the diamonds should go.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

It's all about you

Great news, everyone, I've found a super rare peso coin.  Now my one peso coin (uno peso (or centavo)) is worth like...A THOUSAND PESOS!  If I don't write tomorrow it's probably because I'm living it up on morpheine island somewhere in the south pacific drinking coronas and commanding an army of minions.  That or I called in sick.

Additionally, I've developed a new science called homotology.  It's the study of gay blood.  I haven't really fleshed it out much beyond the basics...blood from gays... but I'm sure to gain wide acclaim and victory from this new field.  Probly they'll call me Mr. Madame Curie, one day.

Finally, I must tell you that Socrates was gay.  I know.  Shockrates.  But these were his last words:  Crito, I owe a cock to Asclepius; will you remember to pay the debt?

Crito?  Also gay.  If anyone owes me cock on their death bed...just keep it.

Monday, September 11, 2006

Socrates wanted me to tell you hi but don't call him because there are no phones in hell

Please don't let me die on a Monday.  Let me die on a Wednesday so I can be buried on a Saturday and fuck up everyone's weekend.  Please let it be that.

Anne Coulter and I have some exciting news to share with you.  We finally had anal sex.

Ok, she didn't want me to tell you that but I have a dilema that I must share.

I feel really bad about the anal sex sitchy.  She didn't want to have it because she was raised right and I kind of pressured her.

She was all, "It will hurt."

I was all, "It's like vagina sex but in the rear, you see?  Plus it will be over before you know it.  I have experience in these matters.  It's like, wtf, that stings?  Then it's like, wtf, already done?"

So anyway, long story short, we done it and it was ok on my part. 

You might think she didn't like it, but that's the thing, she dug it.  Now she's worried she's a homosexual.

I keep trying to tell her that it's only when the boys do it that way that you're a homosexual, that when it's a boy puting the member into a girl behind ... that's ok.  Even the Muslims say that's ok and they're really strict about things.

But she won't be mollified, so I wish you would all send her an email and reassure her that she's still moral cause she worries a lot about that stuff, whereas I don't really care.

But don't tell her I told you, ok?  She wouldn't like that and her good friend Bill R. might call me out for a fight.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Disappointment comes in threes and you have had only one

Someone was all, you sure talk about vaginas a lot.  If you love them so much why don't you marry one.  Then I was all...I did?

Ok, that's a lie.  No one said to me anything of the sort.  Sometimes I ask myself that question, though.

Wouldn't it be swell if there was taterade?  Like gatorade but refreshing vodka.

So anyway, what was really said to me was this, you sure talk about Jews and vaginas a lot.

Which got me thinking that the combination of the two would send me off into apoplepsy.  So I thought of this word:  vajewna.

I'm not sure what it is, though, is the only problem.

You should invent it.

Albert Einstein and I get very tired of doing all the inventions.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Vicente vicente a cup of meat a pound of shame

I wonder where all of the Mexicans used to work so many years ago, like back when the Romans were ruling the world.

I bet they mostly worked in the Vomitoriums.  And the meat packing facilities.

And I'll bet all the crazy right wingers went around saying that the Mexicans were taking all of their good jobs and all the crazy left wingers were always saying, who's going to clean your Vomitoriums?  Do you want to clean the Vomitoriums and pack all the meat?

And the crazy right winger would say, I would do it and I'd do it proud and then he'd show the flags on his truck and the crazy left winger would then volunteer at an aids thing and then take the longest shower when he got home to clean his aids skin from shaking hands and such.

And then probably Vicente Fox would say, not even blacks want to clean Vomitoriums.  And he'd be right but then the blacks would be all, wtf!!??  And then everyone would say, shame on you, Vicente for bringing race into this.

But anyway, probably the Vomitoriums.  Or the meat packing plants.

Or maybe that's in Greece.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

I go from very important meeting to very important meeting

Another word for the crimson is vaginal blood.  It's in the Roget and will soon be in the wiki.  Look it up if you don't believe me.

I want all of you to know that I never want to be a potted plant.  Pot plant, sure, but never a plant in an actual pot.

I'd much rather be a weed, unloved, unwanted, a blade-leaf intruder.

Remember when I said I was Mad Max, yesterday?  Well that was a lie and you totally fell for it!

I'm sorry to lie but sometimes I worry that you're too naive.

Finally, it was revealed to me that heaven is a bundt cake and I have a space reserved in the gooey pudding middle.  The so-called Love of Christ Core.

You're probably in the frosting section.  Or in hell.  It's hard to say.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

to tarry on a theme, too tarry on a theme

I bet on the Bizzaro World they call it a hatopsy instead of an autopsy.  That or a loltopsy.  But not like el oh el, more like lawl.  Lawltopsy.  And I bet they don't wear gloves and I'll bet they eat the liver and giblets.

I have a bit of disturbing news.  I am really Mel Gibson.  It's not really that I don't like Jews it's that they are really behind all the wars.  There's biblical facts based on that and Jesus never did like the Jews, he never did.

Anyway, it was sad that I got caught drunk.  That was real sad but that's not the disturbing news.

The disturbing news was that the Mossad got that crocadiller feller.  He was about to wrastle a Jew gator and they put the stingray device in his heart.  And his last words were not crikey like you'll read on the net.

Check my facts.

I dare ya.

Look here:

You'll have to hack their mainframe like I did in The Road Warrior.

Plus it's Tuesday, not Monday like your brain keeps telling you.

And you're not really hung over like you should be.  Like your brain keeps telling you.  Like you wanna be.

Friday, September 01, 2006


I know the guy who wrote this article.

He's a sex offender but a pretty nice one.

Anne Coulter and I are worried about her vagina.

Well, she's worried.  She called me in as a consultant.  She heard I knew a thing or to about them (vaginas) and that I could probably give her some guidance into her issues.

She says they spit and say things when she wants them to be quiet and that they don't seal properly.

She likes to put long rows of staples or bobby pins, those metal ones, all in a straight line as wide as your hand all up in there.

Then she goes to the airports and the metal alarm shrieks and they wave the wand and she tells them she has a robotic vagina.  A metal muff she says sometimes when she's feeling naughty.

She tells me that they never check up there and when they do they say, "Miss, did you know your kooch is full of staples?"

"I wonder how them got up in there," she says and she laughs.

She knows that's not proper grammar but she tries to blend in with the lowest of the classes because they are her people.  Her "peeps."

So anyway, I was thinking it's probably the staples or bobby pins what is causing all of this mess for her but she says she won't stop.

So I made a vagina muzzle for her.  it's made of rubber with long, linen sashes that tie up over the shoulders.

It's very pretty.

I'll make you one, too.