Friday, February 11, 2005
bing is on a European stint, currently eating assloads of assfood in paris. That’s not like it sounds. She somehow became immersed in food that tastes like ass, which I find dubitable (?) as I grinded like a gran campeon during my time in beret central. is it appropriate to say dubitable (?) even though you're not, like, implying disbelief, but merely shock & awe?? or is that only cool when you're fraggin restless natives? anyway, back on topic, me loves them outdoor café style dillios where you sit & drink beers and they bring you like a million food shite and you split a meal with yo luvved one, like a full dillio (?) and they basically give you the hookup with all kine extras cuz you grease the dood’s palms not with extra moolah but, you know, your jennay say kwah stylees, well, plus you overtip on top of that cuz you’re a dumb American and don’t realize French don’t tip for shit and the word has got around that you’re the #1 stunnah and thereby they fly to, uh, hmmm, maine (?) and get the best lobster for your lobster bisque. Not to say I’m more deserving than you of the finest finers but you know, they don’t call me the miner 49er for nothing. Ok they do. Not call me that. The miner 49er. And don’t even get started on how that chick fell into the brine & I wasn’t a swimmer, cuz it’s a fucked up story.
And that’s all I have to say about basketball at this juncture.
What I do have to say, besides the usual nothing, is, well, fuck, the usual nothing I guess. You know what the problem is, right? The shit that is really on my mind is not fit for public consumption. But actually, that’s not necessarily entirely true. In all factuality, there really is nothing much on my mind. Or, rather, my inbuilt censor negates it by saying it’s inconsequential and thus not worth writing in such a non-epic forum.
Eh. I know it’s all bullshit. I know this. Yet, I still foolishly cling on to some type of standard for which my bizarre self seems to insist has been set by some here up until now unforeseen party. I mean, shit, if it’s just a bloggerville acre filled with mass crapsterpiece antithesis of icons, then what can you do except spit just blah blah blah all over it and hope for the best and hope the royalties come in as a reflection of the worst. Because as you know, bad is the new good.
And, uh, fuck, a bunch of other shit. The point being, nothing is good enough, and thereby, everything is subpar. And furthermore, through the fact of everything being not adequate to properly represent, the bar is officially dropped and mayhem may commence, which was prolly gonna happen anyway, so fuck it.
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Hoping they can close out this boston game and have a little momentum heading into Washington, which is gonna be ruff & tuff, not to mention tuff & ruff, what with the fact that the bullets slash wizards slash ogelthorpes (not relevant). Yeah, it’s pretty weird, being that something good seems to be percolating in the back alley deal nexus of this fine (?) country of ours. Hey, look, I don’t question our finesse. (fine-ness?) but I know others do, and their views deserve to be shown in any and all forums just as much as jesse jacksons’ very sensible diatribes regarding how he can fuck as many random ass rainbow coalition secretaries as he wants, but, I mean, don’t let the guy in barbershop make slightly disparaging remarks about rosa parks. That’s fucked up.
And that’s seriously old news. Which I, eh, I don’t like referencing myself. It’s like a woodpecker saying, “oh, you think I drill holes in the sides of trees now, you used to see me back in the day, let me give you this map & flight directions to one of my most prestigious designs, and then let me know what you think.” Ok, it’s prolly not like that at all, well, shit, I dunno, maybe a little.
PS: scratch everything I just said. They choked. Hard. Extra special edition. They suck. Beelzebub may officially enter their locker room and ransack all the moonstones. Sigh with an extra shot of vinegar.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Who holds that spot now? The lakers.
You do the math.
Well, don’t know how much math has to do with it, but you know what I mean.
You probably don’t. it’s cool.
Mathematically though, it’s simple science that the clippers will do it, even though with that “other” math, you might not think that they would. And when I say “make it” I mean as in make the playoffs, not whatever perverted thing you were prolly thinking. For shame.
Ummm, did you know anti went to new york?? You should go read about it.
Well, besides that there’s the everimportant issue of the fact that, uh, tha jurk storr called?
Sure, why not.
m68 but don’t call him late for dinner.
a blood debt has been honored. the world may commence spinning on its axis.
don't forget it all started with deirdre the drunken dolphin.
Monday, February 07, 2005
There’s some really retarded singing going on in some kind of near vicinity not to mention the fact that there are unofficial dog fights, not like they’re sanctioned or anything, but you know, what the fuck do you expect to happen when you let a bunch of fukn mangy mutts run all around a certain area just cruising and otherwise not generally causing too much trouble, well you know whut’s gonna happen, there’s gonna eventually be some kind of situation in which the same sucka ass gets beat down again just like whut they always got damn do.
The clippers dumped the last two games by two points apiece, two sadly winnable games to two teams that are prolly a lil better than their records indicate, as Elton Brand indicated somewhere in the press clippings, so, wellie, next up is at boston, in first place in a shit division, but they’re a wacky team and if memory serves me correct they beat the clips once already this season, but memory is a fickle thang, whut with it’s unfounded bias as to being not necessarily always true.