Posted 11:48 AM by Alfred

jurk storr, jurk storr, who’s got the jurk storr.

Yo mofockin hizobags, cough up the dizime and then don’t do the crizime cuz tizime is vizaluable.

If I have to talk in snoop-speak for like 72 astro medallions equivalent of chronology then that shit will get got done like propogenetically. Ferreal. If that’s whut it takes than all whatevs of your asses can eat some fondue up in this bizzle and just scratch yall heads in shame.

Stuck with a late pass! Stizep.

I just don’t feel like being comprehended this fine morning. Is that ok? Hmmm, alrighty then, I guess it is becuz I say so. Oh the drunkenness of this infinite power that is in mine hands at this exactamundo jj momento.

J jonah jameson was such a dick to spider-man and peter parker. I often contemplated murdering him over a steaming cauldron of fondue before realizing in a momentary glimpse of rationale that he wasn’t in fact real. Than I considered same said effect on Ahmad Rashad.

So like add up the jurk storr, snoopizzles, um, cherry bombs underneath your grandpa, and like paragliding over the French Riviera and what have you got? A big pile of obligatory verbatims that the elephant hijackers would consider trading in their muskets for. At least that what my great aunt edna’s uncle ralphie told me over some funny stogies and a bag of mushies in like 1993. don’t tell mom the babysitter’s on acid type dillio, na mean? Even if you don’t it’s cool. Serially. Don’t feel left out, even the slightest hair, inch, or like, um, vestibule. It’s just a random bunch of dogshit anyway. There are much better things to read in this corner of the slamdance quadrant, namely the biography of bob’s big boy, which I can provide for $19.99 in three easy installments of $8.99, special price for you, homey.

Did I mention that’s in swiss francs? Long beach.

PS: I’m not from long beach. Oh wait I said that in the last post. Well I’ve also said before that repetitiveness is second only to um, something, in many other posts before. Hey without repeating myself every at least 18 days in some way shape or form I would’ve stopped writing anything after like the 18th post and then, well, the pony express might have never stopped running. How’s that for a metaphor?

Yah, I know, shitty.

But shitty in a kinda good way I like to think.

Have a whatever the hell you want type day. RIP ovaltine acres.

Hoo-Ha’s cool even though they think I’m three Midwestern chicks.

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