Time with [She Who Must Be Off Limits, unlike Mrs. Hoge, Mrs. Stranahan, Mrs. Grady, Mrs. Walker, Mrs. McCain, the Daughters Johnson and the Daughter Gryffon…oh, for fuck’s sake – GAIL! Her name is Gail! Gail, Gail, Gail! Sue me!] is the most important thing to me, now more than ever.
– W.M. Schmalfeldt
This quote will remain at the top of this blog until one of the following (in approximate order of likelihood):
- 1. He dies
- 2. He starts to behave as if he believes what he has said
- 3. He leaves the internet for two whole weeks
I’ll be over here not turning blue.
Remember your answer.
There will be a quiz at a later date.
It will be fun!
…like with a password reset or something…
Gotta leave an email address though.
UPDATE – I hope nobody pulls that post down. It’s only been archived about 15 times.
The bar towels after Elkridge smoke open radio if double candy frost just round had crayon dust underfoot as far as Mombasa elevator. Dirty green bean bag clipper paint glass ceiling with horsefly camel spit, but you’ll always grow Chinese noodles by feeding electric snakes under bike chain hang reign when Christine built oblong zithersets.
After Jackson vacuum whisper any of the sofa cushions, we went twisting under the DVR hammers. Four six twleve opens Gatorade soccer net. My big data salt mine crabs into slimy whimsical intensity driven hooks-first through blank hearts choked by pigskin candles. Without listing soda cracker pans, Felton baked panty switch carton face. I couldn’t close video from my phone to the gym today and it just seems unlikely places game quoted remotely digital.
The Ping Pong ball tango. Klutz keys keep clapping, causing crusty cake kisses coerced, cracked, crunchy. Blue eyed screwdrivers swallow deck trash root baskets. Samson cracked juicy details about your streetwalking ways. How pacifism broke flash toast behind wonder nasty certain liver zest corroded with standard deviations in mud lamps wavered.
Riverbanks howling at twice baked potatoes knifed across Roswell. Broken bottle caps burst bleow basted bubbles brined by both breakfast blueberries beside brown bananas.
And in the streets the children screamed “hallelujah” when the injection plungers sang their junkie madness symphony of nirvana.
Of course you are.
Zombies, any thoughts on WHY DUMBFUCK is surprised?
By the way, I scheduled this post about 11 hours ago. I’ll bet you Zombies thought I forgot, didn’t you?
When you are a private person…
Building your “private person” blog…
Building your “private person” podcast…
Building your “private person” Twitter presence to promote and
publicize privatize your “private person” blog and your “private person” podcast…
To create a “brand” so that everyone knows what a “private person” you are…
Check the spelling of the link.
Don’t be a #DUMBFUCK
…and then take down the file.
Like a #DUMBFUCK