Tuesday, March 06, 2007

goldang. Yup. My bodyguard. He’s the guy whut with whut beats your ass if you’re within like 800 yards of me. 1000 if you’re on the list. 500 if you’re on the other list. See there’s actually like 32 lists. Depending on what list you’re on is how close this dude lets you get to see the goods. Not those goods. & not the grocery store ones neither. Well I don’t even know if you could see them per se, you might just have to reach out with the feelers, you know, the mental ones, to get the full energy, from my “show” you know. And actually, I shouldn’t do the horn toot, cuz it’s not really officially mine, it’s more my bodyguard’s, you know, my long lost pal, like in that paul simon song, only he doesn’t follow me around after I go to school & prevent bullies & what not, cuz that’s not my problem, my problem is, like, for example, if I have to go to the bakery & they’re out of the special kind of bread I like? Yah, that one. Well, if that happens, he kicks their asses real good.

If the above & pic look familiar then yuir name is nadie; no one read it 2 years ago. I checked; it's catalogued. I'm weird like that. gratzi.

Hey there, no I haven’t forgotten about you. I never could. No matter how busy I actually am or tell myself I am, there will always, er, maybe every couple weeks, be time for you, dear ultrabs, and no I won’t ever call you that again, ultrabs. Sigh/shalom.

So what’s up, what did I miss? I’ve been nba bloggin up a storm over at clipper, but I won’t talk about that. THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN. Ignore it, the man behind the curtain is actually Dorothy. You and me and the little purple people eater miniature dalmation fountainhead will all be happier if we can live in that fantasyland ad infinitum.

Now, then, as for cogent things that actually affect the world, or at least make some semblance of sense. Hmmm. Eh, I got nuthin. No, scratch that, I’ve got pretzels. No, nope, I don’t even have pretzels.