Hodge-Podge Reality Doo-Wop Compilation Blog Remix: Volume 2.0

-Is it just me or do you drive like a fucking banshee the minute hot French fries enter your car? I refuse to eat a cold fry and I refuse to nuke my delicious, golden friends. So inevitably, it becomes a race against the hot French fry (and I always win.)
-I don’t understand people’s obsession with kitty cats and machine guns. That’s just fucking weird, dude.
-I cannot STAND those idiots who ride their Schwinn’s on the street. There’s a fucking side walk right there, Homie!! And I’ve got hot French fries in my car!
-I’m traveling to NYC this week and I’m excited to get a little action. TSA= Touchin’, Squeezin’, AWwwwESOME! I’m going to hide little love letters in a couple inconspicuous places, that way they don’t feel so cheap about the early onset heavy petting.
“Dear TSA Agent Claudia, I love the way you warm your hands up before having your way with me.  Too bad these little pat downs are so one-sided.”
Or “Dear TSA Agent Rhonda, I love that you have no shame in your game!  Tracing my bra line and telling me to “spread ‘em” …in public …on the first date?  Balls!”
Or maybe, “Dear TSA Agent Louise, Your PDA means the world to me! Let’s hold hands.”
And lastly, “Dear TSA Agent Latex Gloves Guy, if you’re reading this one something has gone terribly wrong and I’d like you to direct all further questions to my attorneys. Rubins Kase Rubins Cambiano and Bryant @ 523-8200."
-What ever happened to Amy Winehouse? Someone should check on her.
-Do you realize that all our lives we grow up with superiors. Starting with Mom and Dad, then kindergarten teachers and hall monitors, principals and vice principals. (For whatever reason, I always viewed the janitors and lunch ladies as equals. What are they gonna do? Nothing, that’s what.) Moving across an array of high school teachers and coaches, police men, college professors and Abercrombie & Fitch managers. Finally, you grow up and get a real job and you have your bosses and managers, and assistant managers, all the while you been paying your cell phone bill; I’m pretty sure Verizon Wireless fucking owns my ass. The question is, when is it going to be my turn?
I guess I could try telling my parents to clean their room and to be home by midnight but they would just think it’s funny and laugh in my cute face. I could try going back to my high school and telling all my old teachers what they used to tell me, "Sit still and to stop talking so fuckin' much," but I can only think of one who would actually do it and that’s just because he’s a hippie and smokes a ton of pot. I wouldn’t dare try to tell a police man what to do again. Last time I did that I was in Mexico, told a Federale to “S my D” and landed myself in a Mexican jail cell for 72 hours. I lost 4 pounds and have been pen pals with my cell mate for going on 8 years now though, so I regret nothing. I would love to call Verizon and say “Can you hear me now? Good, go fuck yourself,” but I won’t, need ‘em too much.
Anyhoo, you get the point. When am I going to be “The Man?” I have got to find a way to boss people around and have them take me seriously. I’m working on it, when I figure it out, I’ll let you know. And hopefully quick, before my desire to be the boss betrays me and lands me back in a 3rd world prison.
-Don’t you have certain words that you think are fun to say? I love onomatopoeias. But more than I love onomatopoeias I love the word ‘onomatopoeia.’ And I just found a way to say it 3 times! Boom! (that’s an onomatopoeia – 4) I also enjoy saying ‘Boise’ and ‘persnickety.’
-I wish I had the authority to ambush makeover people. Go to a Dress Barn in Boise, choose a persnickety lady, throw a pillowcase over her head, toss her in the back of an unmarked car and redirect her to Nordstrom. We’d start with a bra fitting. I’ve had my counsel look into this and apparently this kind of behavior is “frowned upon” even if it is for the greater good of humanity.
-I’ve been thinking of adding a small disclaimer to the blog. This is it, and I’m not apologizing for anything I’ve said, I’m simply coming clean for good JuJu and karmic purposes.

*Disclaimer: Dear current and future employers, boyfriends, husbands, soccer moms and my unborn love children alike, please be advised that this blog is a bunch a bull shit and about 3% of it’s content is actually true. Unless you love it then, 97% of it is true.

Here’s a list of things I’ve already lied about:
I’m not really a Volunteer Fire Fighter: they pay me, but under the table for tax fraud purposes.
I don’t really think Jamie Lee Curtis’ haircut is stupid. In fact, I love it!
I ate a McRib and didn’t document, record OR report on it… in my defense, it was 2am and I was drunk.
I’m not really 5’2”… I’m 5’2 and-a-half and I still like it down here.


1 comment:

Ben dover said...

And I always thought that the word MOIST said while sucking on a dry cotton ball was your favorite word!