Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Hey werdup. So yeah, and fuck saying so yeah. So no. nah, I can’t be like that. Sigh. I write, like, nothing, except official letters of dogshit acre and little e-mails, and memos to various businesses conducting my business in conjunction with their business and trying to facilitate increased monies and success for both parties, which is a great endeavor not in and of itself, nay, quite the opposite, it is completely part of something, non independent, it’s not literary prowess, it’s jargonistic something, but, no, it’s not jargonistic, the jurk storr steelo still comes through, but not. You’d be amazed at how clear I can be in getting a point across when I want to or have to. It’s uncanny. Which is prolly why I write this confusing ass horse manure for y’all (hi joe) to read, it’s my own rebellious id or 18th personality coming out and playing and running around the yard and tearing balls out for the slip & slide and taking the chonies out for a walk with gertle and uncle Jackson, all those peeps, and non peeps, and what have you entities.
Oh, and in other news:
THE RETURN OF THE MUTHAFUCKIN HOSE MONSTER
Lock up your daughters and hide the fine china. You’ve been warned. Salud.