http://tinyurl.com/2o2lvr
You can also watch this video at the bottom of this page, just scroll all the way down.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
The gayest of them all...
O-genki desu ka?
Watashi wa huge cock desu!
Doozo yoroshiku!
I am learning Japanese, pretty much only to say the above haiku and to give my drawings of ligers super cool Japanese names. I'm probably the best artist I know...
Anyhoo, when I worked security (for Mr. Eddie Murphy), life was dull unless you went outside to watch the bums, who seemed to live only to entertain those higher up on the social ladder. There was Iceman, who would throw food in the trash, pick it out and eat it, there was Roy Garret, who would allow multiple men (and men only) to run the length of his Hershey highway every night, there was James, the homeless man who wore a tube top and cutoff shorts and walked in heels, and would also enjoy the feel of a hardened cock every now and again, even showering in the little fountain in the park (like sadly a lot of those bums did) with many a dude sitting in the benches watching, and I would assume thinking about joining.
There was the bum who waited out in the freezing cold because he saw a bunch of change in my car, and I took the change out and threw it in the gutter and peeled out, throwing snow and slush all over him while he tried to get the coins out of the gutter, there was the many times during the summer when the bums would build a fort out of cardboard boxes, blankets and failure, hook a little black and white television up to one of the plugins in the park and watch Jerry Springer while they did eachother's hair, and the time some cracked out hooker went in the ittle alley behind the park and let the homeless guys run a train on her. Good times.
I have to say, though, that out of all them Mr. Klamm was the gayest one of them all, and I was never sure he was a bona fide bum. Mr. Klamm was in the Marines, was apparently incredibly strong though he was only about 5'3, and was as gay as the year is long. He had been banned from the Town Pavilion for attempting to rape a man in the men's restroom up in the food court, and got his rocks off by calling us and asking if he was allowed back into the building, to which we were always supposed to answer no. I know I have told this story before, but I was reminiscing today about those less fortunate and how much smaller the "less fortunate" than the Stevester group was getting. I was also thinking about other encounters with the homeless that are funny.
When we (meaning the brown belts from my dojo) were going to test for black belt, we had stopped in some shithole town between here and Joplin, of which there are many, in order to purchase gas and snacks. While my instructor was filling up, some bum moseyed over and started telling his gay ass sob story about how he only needed 5 or 6 dollars to buy a house and blah blah blahtsky. My instructor, who is for all intents and purposes much too nice, gave the loser 6 bucks, which he promptly took into the store and purchased alcohol with, much as I expected.
The instructor's son, who was not as nice, and also a 4th degree black belt, informed the bum that though his dad was nice, he was not, and took the bottle from the loser and poured it out on the ground, throwing it away in the process. The downtrodden loser looked forlornly at his pissed away liquor, then at the 9 black belts standing within 5 feet of him, and thought better of it, sulking away to scam someone else.
On our way home from our test, Thad, our thinnest black belt, informed us that he needed to make pee pee. Since we were int he middle of nowhere, my instructor pulled off the highway and drove a ways down a gravel road by a field so he could go. Instead of getting out and going right by the van, he walked maybe 20 yards into this freshly tilled field and started pissing right in the middle of it.
Whilst this was going on the farmer who owned the field was seen watching from his barn, which is pretty gay in itself because from his vantage point he would have been able to see Thad's Johnson. Anyway, he comes running out from behind his barn, yelling obscenities and carrying a baseball bat with him, not knowing what kind of mess he was potentially walking into. We begged our instructor to stop the van so he could catch up, and he drove slowly enough the farmer could almost keep up for about 50 yards, but Old McDonald gave up.
I have no clue what the main gist of this post is, I like rambling on though. Let's take a different path tomorrow, shall we?
Watashi wa huge cock desu!
Doozo yoroshiku!
I am learning Japanese, pretty much only to say the above haiku and to give my drawings of ligers super cool Japanese names. I'm probably the best artist I know...
Anyhoo, when I worked security (for Mr. Eddie Murphy), life was dull unless you went outside to watch the bums, who seemed to live only to entertain those higher up on the social ladder. There was Iceman, who would throw food in the trash, pick it out and eat it, there was Roy Garret, who would allow multiple men (and men only) to run the length of his Hershey highway every night, there was James, the homeless man who wore a tube top and cutoff shorts and walked in heels, and would also enjoy the feel of a hardened cock every now and again, even showering in the little fountain in the park (like sadly a lot of those bums did) with many a dude sitting in the benches watching, and I would assume thinking about joining.
There was the bum who waited out in the freezing cold because he saw a bunch of change in my car, and I took the change out and threw it in the gutter and peeled out, throwing snow and slush all over him while he tried to get the coins out of the gutter, there was the many times during the summer when the bums would build a fort out of cardboard boxes, blankets and failure, hook a little black and white television up to one of the plugins in the park and watch Jerry Springer while they did eachother's hair, and the time some cracked out hooker went in the ittle alley behind the park and let the homeless guys run a train on her. Good times.
I have to say, though, that out of all them Mr. Klamm was the gayest one of them all, and I was never sure he was a bona fide bum. Mr. Klamm was in the Marines, was apparently incredibly strong though he was only about 5'3, and was as gay as the year is long. He had been banned from the Town Pavilion for attempting to rape a man in the men's restroom up in the food court, and got his rocks off by calling us and asking if he was allowed back into the building, to which we were always supposed to answer no. I know I have told this story before, but I was reminiscing today about those less fortunate and how much smaller the "less fortunate" than the Stevester group was getting. I was also thinking about other encounters with the homeless that are funny.
When we (meaning the brown belts from my dojo) were going to test for black belt, we had stopped in some shithole town between here and Joplin, of which there are many, in order to purchase gas and snacks. While my instructor was filling up, some bum moseyed over and started telling his gay ass sob story about how he only needed 5 or 6 dollars to buy a house and blah blah blahtsky. My instructor, who is for all intents and purposes much too nice, gave the loser 6 bucks, which he promptly took into the store and purchased alcohol with, much as I expected.
The instructor's son, who was not as nice, and also a 4th degree black belt, informed the bum that though his dad was nice, he was not, and took the bottle from the loser and poured it out on the ground, throwing it away in the process. The downtrodden loser looked forlornly at his pissed away liquor, then at the 9 black belts standing within 5 feet of him, and thought better of it, sulking away to scam someone else.
On our way home from our test, Thad, our thinnest black belt, informed us that he needed to make pee pee. Since we were int he middle of nowhere, my instructor pulled off the highway and drove a ways down a gravel road by a field so he could go. Instead of getting out and going right by the van, he walked maybe 20 yards into this freshly tilled field and started pissing right in the middle of it.
Whilst this was going on the farmer who owned the field was seen watching from his barn, which is pretty gay in itself because from his vantage point he would have been able to see Thad's Johnson. Anyway, he comes running out from behind his barn, yelling obscenities and carrying a baseball bat with him, not knowing what kind of mess he was potentially walking into. We begged our instructor to stop the van so he could catch up, and he drove slowly enough the farmer could almost keep up for about 50 yards, but Old McDonald gave up.
I have no clue what the main gist of this post is, I like rambling on though. Let's take a different path tomorrow, shall we?
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Lilian Ray II
Crackpipe's siren call
it never goes unnoticed
and never denied
Re: *kiss* With love
From: Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianray@yahoo.com)
Sent: Fri 11/30/07 5:12 PM
To: philip_mckraken@hotmail.com
Hello My Dearest Phil McKraken,
How are you? Thanks once again, I am more than happy in your sweet and encouraging reply to my mail. It was so sweet of you and I feel you're a very nice person. How is your day? mine is cool over here in Dakar Senegal . My name is Miss Lilian Ray from Cote d'ivoire in West Africa and presently, I am residing in the refugee camp here in Dakar Senegal, as a result of the civil war going on in my country. I was a first year student of law at the university, before the incident that lead me into this situation of living in the camp. My late father Dr. Benson Ray was the Managing Director of Rainbow Gold and Diamond Mine company, also a successful business man import and exporter of Cocoa during his life time, before the rebels attacked my house one early morning killing my mother and my father. Equally my mother was a senior lecturer at the university before her death, it was only me that is alive now because I was the only child to my parents, and I managed to make my way to near by country Senegal, where I am leaving now.
Remeber the distance or colour or even age not matter but love matters alot in life. Am a very simple honest, respectful sincere and romantic. I want people to take the better part of me all time and feel happy. I have long hair with a nice shape, I don't like dishonest people and I don't like problems I would like to know more about you. Your likes and dislikes, your hobbies and what you are doing presently. My dear good friend I attach here my pictures for you, though I am not all that photogenic, I hope you wouldn't mind. I will tell you more about myself in my next mail. I don't want to end up missing you.Meanwhile Are you open and ready to start this very relationship with me?
kiss From my deepest heart.Thanks I am hoping to hear from you soonest,
Miss Lilian Ray.
Please remember this is a scammer, a free t-shirt to the person who can tell me who this is a photo of, I am thinking a singer or model from Dakar Senegal...
RE: *kiss* With love
From: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Sent: Sat 12/01/07 10:59 AM
To: Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianray@yahoo.com)
My Dearest Lilian,
You are incredibly beautiful, and must be one of Dakar Senegal's most precious resources. I will get a picture of myself and send it along today. You are very photogenic, and I wish I could bring you to America to be mine. I am very open to start this relationship with you, and would like to get to know you on a more personal level.
Take care of yourself, you are worth taking care of
Phil McKraken
Sadly, this is more romantic than anything I ever said to my wife (ask her, she does not mind telling you)... but I wanted this relationship to go on for awhile, so I figured I would start slow and build up to the insanity.
RE: *kiss* With love Phil McKraken
From: Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianray@yahoo.com)
Sent: Sat 12/01/07 8:30 PM
To: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Hello My Dearest Phil McKraken,
How was your day and how was your work hope fine, I am very happy in your reply to my mail. Mine is a little bit hot over here in Dakar Senegal. I am 23 years of age living in this situation In this refugee camp we are only allowed to go out only on Monday's and Saturdays of the week. Its just like one staying in the prison and I hope by God grace I will come out here soon and be with you in America.
I don't have any relatives now whom I can go to all my relatives ran away in the middle of the war the only person I have now is Reverend. John Paul, who is the Parish Priest of (Christ the king Church) here in the refugee. He has been very nice to me since I came here but I am not living with him rather I am leaving in the women's hostel because the camp have two hostels one for men the other for women.
The Reverend Tel number is (00221-772-418-111) if you call and tell him that you want to speak with me he will send for me in the hostel. here is where am send you email at church office and send mail to you in his office church. As a refugee here I don't have any right or privilege to any thing be it money or whatever because it is against the law of this country. I want to go back to my studies because I only attended my first year before the tragic incident that lead to my being in this situation now took place.
Please listen Phil to this I have my late father's statement of account and death certificate here with me which I will send to you latter, because when he was alive he deposited some amount of money in a Bank which he used my name as the next of kin, the amount in question is $5.9M ( Five Million Nine Hundred Thousand Dollars). So I will like you to help me transfer this money to your account and from it you can send some money for me to get my traveling documents and air ticket to come over to meet with you. I kept this secret to people in the camp here the only person that knows about it is the Reverend because he is like a father to me.
Phil in light above I will like you to keep it to yourself and don't tell it to anyone for I am afraid of loosing my life and the money if people gets to know about it. Remember I am giving you all this information due to the trust I deposed on you. I like honest and understanding people, truth and hardworking man of vision. My favorite language is English and I speak English very fluently. Meanwhile I will like you to call me like I said, from 12.30noon to 4.30pm(12.30GMT-16.30GMT), I have alot to tell you.
Furthermore, you can contact the Bank for confirmation and I will issue a letter of authorization on your name, that will enable the bank to work with you on my behalf. I am giving you this offers as mentioned with every confidence on your acceptance to assist me or take me as your wife and manage the money. Conclusively, I wish you send me a reply immediately as soon as you receive this letter. Until then, I remain with the best regards, Have a nice day and think about me.Awaiting to hear from you soonest.
Yours forever,
Miss Lilian Ray.
Awww how sweet.... *sniff*
RE: *kiss* With love Phil McKraken
From: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Sent: Sun 12/02/07 9:41 PM
To: Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianray@yahoo.com)
Dearest Lilian,
I love the photos you send to me, they warm my heart and also other parts of my body. I want to be with you, Lilian. I am already making plans to get rid of my current room mate, Hot Karl, who has been stealing my thongs and KY jelly and leaving some rather noticeable stains on the bed and the couch even when I'm not there, so I suspect he is doing something especially since our gerbils have started coming up missing, which would be normal but they are disappearing even when I'm not there to help with the act.
Tell me who I must contact, Lilian, and promise yourself to me. I want to kiss you all over your beautiful body, down the small of your back, gently cradling every part and admiring it's beauty as I enjoy you as I hope you will enjoy me. I want to make sweet love to you, Lilian. Please tell me you feel the same, and what you want me to do to you or with you. Unlike before, Hot Karl is not invited, with his macarena dance of love and his hairy chicken McNuggets dangling in my face like last time, taunting me.
I enclosed my picture that I plan on putting in my new book, 'Penetrate Your Anger!' See, Lilian, I am also an accomplished author, I have written for such literary journals as the NAMBLA News, Neverland Ranch Weekly and Penna Tratemy Chronicles, and I can make life very comfortable for you. I have almost 3 million dollars here, we do not need your father's money Lilian. I am rich. Come to me, make love to me.
Yours,
Phil McKraken
Don't ask. I would rather not divulge what I searched for to attain this particular photo.
More tomorrow.
it never goes unnoticed
and never denied
Lilian Ray
Re: *kiss* With love
From: Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianray@yahoo.com)
Sent: Fri 11/30/07 5:12 PM
To: philip_mckraken@hotmail.com
Hello My Dearest Phil McKraken,
How are you? Thanks once again, I am more than happy in your sweet and encouraging reply to my mail. It was so sweet of you and I feel you're a very nice person. How is your day? mine is cool over here in Dakar Senegal . My name is Miss Lilian Ray from Cote d'ivoire in West Africa and presently, I am residing in the refugee camp here in Dakar Senegal, as a result of the civil war going on in my country. I was a first year student of law at the university, before the incident that lead me into this situation of living in the camp. My late father Dr. Benson Ray was the Managing Director of Rainbow Gold and Diamond Mine company, also a successful business man import and exporter of Cocoa during his life time, before the rebels attacked my house one early morning killing my mother and my father. Equally my mother was a senior lecturer at the university before her death, it was only me that is alive now because I was the only child to my parents, and I managed to make my way to near by country Senegal, where I am leaving now.
Remeber the distance or colour or even age not matter but love matters alot in life. Am a very simple honest, respectful sincere and romantic. I want people to take the better part of me all time and feel happy. I have long hair with a nice shape, I don't like dishonest people and I don't like problems I would like to know more about you. Your likes and dislikes, your hobbies and what you are doing presently. My dear good friend I attach here my pictures for you, though I am not all that photogenic, I hope you wouldn't mind. I will tell you more about myself in my next mail. I don't want to end up missing you.Meanwhile Are you open and ready to start this very relationship with me?
kiss From my deepest heart.Thanks I am hoping to hear from you soonest,
Miss Lilian Ray.
Please remember this is a scammer, a free t-shirt to the person who can tell me who this is a photo of, I am thinking a singer or model from Dakar Senegal...
RE: *kiss* With love
From: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Sent: Sat 12/01/07 10:59 AM
To: Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianray@yahoo.com)
My Dearest Lilian,
You are incredibly beautiful, and must be one of Dakar Senegal's most precious resources. I will get a picture of myself and send it along today. You are very photogenic, and I wish I could bring you to America to be mine. I am very open to start this relationship with you, and would like to get to know you on a more personal level.
Take care of yourself, you are worth taking care of
Phil McKraken
Sadly, this is more romantic than anything I ever said to my wife (ask her, she does not mind telling you)... but I wanted this relationship to go on for awhile, so I figured I would start slow and build up to the insanity.
RE: *kiss* With love Phil McKraken
From: Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianray@yahoo.com)
Sent: Sat 12/01/07 8:30 PM
To: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Hello My Dearest Phil McKraken,
How was your day and how was your work hope fine, I am very happy in your reply to my mail. Mine is a little bit hot over here in Dakar Senegal. I am 23 years of age living in this situation In this refugee camp we are only allowed to go out only on Monday's and Saturdays of the week. Its just like one staying in the prison and I hope by God grace I will come out here soon and be with you in America.
I don't have any relatives now whom I can go to all my relatives ran away in the middle of the war the only person I have now is Reverend. John Paul, who is the Parish Priest of (Christ the king Church) here in the refugee. He has been very nice to me since I came here but I am not living with him rather I am leaving in the women's hostel because the camp have two hostels one for men the other for women.
The Reverend Tel number is (00221-772-418-111) if you call and tell him that you want to speak with me he will send for me in the hostel. here is where am send you email at church office and send mail to you in his office church. As a refugee here I don't have any right or privilege to any thing be it money or whatever because it is against the law of this country. I want to go back to my studies because I only attended my first year before the tragic incident that lead to my being in this situation now took place.
Please listen Phil to this I have my late father's statement of account and death certificate here with me which I will send to you latter, because when he was alive he deposited some amount of money in a Bank which he used my name as the next of kin, the amount in question is $5.9M ( Five Million Nine Hundred Thousand Dollars). So I will like you to help me transfer this money to your account and from it you can send some money for me to get my traveling documents and air ticket to come over to meet with you. I kept this secret to people in the camp here the only person that knows about it is the Reverend because he is like a father to me.
Phil in light above I will like you to keep it to yourself and don't tell it to anyone for I am afraid of loosing my life and the money if people gets to know about it. Remember I am giving you all this information due to the trust I deposed on you. I like honest and understanding people, truth and hardworking man of vision. My favorite language is English and I speak English very fluently. Meanwhile I will like you to call me like I said, from 12.30noon to 4.30pm(12.30GMT-16.30GMT), I have alot to tell you.
Furthermore, you can contact the Bank for confirmation and I will issue a letter of authorization on your name, that will enable the bank to work with you on my behalf. I am giving you this offers as mentioned with every confidence on your acceptance to assist me or take me as your wife and manage the money. Conclusively, I wish you send me a reply immediately as soon as you receive this letter. Until then, I remain with the best regards, Have a nice day and think about me.Awaiting to hear from you soonest.
Yours forever,
Miss Lilian Ray.
Awww how sweet.... *sniff*
RE: *kiss* With love Phil McKraken
From: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Sent: Sun 12/02/07 9:41 PM
To: Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianray@yahoo.com)
Dearest Lilian,
I love the photos you send to me, they warm my heart and also other parts of my body. I want to be with you, Lilian. I am already making plans to get rid of my current room mate, Hot Karl, who has been stealing my thongs and KY jelly and leaving some rather noticeable stains on the bed and the couch even when I'm not there, so I suspect he is doing something especially since our gerbils have started coming up missing, which would be normal but they are disappearing even when I'm not there to help with the act.
Tell me who I must contact, Lilian, and promise yourself to me. I want to kiss you all over your beautiful body, down the small of your back, gently cradling every part and admiring it's beauty as I enjoy you as I hope you will enjoy me. I want to make sweet love to you, Lilian. Please tell me you feel the same, and what you want me to do to you or with you. Unlike before, Hot Karl is not invited, with his macarena dance of love and his hairy chicken McNuggets dangling in my face like last time, taunting me.
I enclosed my picture that I plan on putting in my new book, 'Penetrate Your Anger!' See, Lilian, I am also an accomplished author, I have written for such literary journals as the NAMBLA News, Neverland Ranch Weekly and Penna Tratemy Chronicles, and I can make life very comfortable for you. I have almost 3 million dollars here, we do not need your father's money Lilian. I am rich. Come to me, make love to me.
Yours,
Phil McKraken
Don't ask. I would rather not divulge what I searched for to attain this particular photo.
More tomorrow.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Question...
Beneath the steel sky
tired feet crunch in unison
You're now of the hoard
Lessons?
Why is it that some lessons learned as youngsters are kept as we get older, yet others are thrown away? Who decides which lessons are to be kept and which become taboo? I study, you learn. Jinqui.
Lesson 1- Penis
When I was a young lad of 4, I took my pants down and showed the other children what it was that made me better than them. For that I got hit on the naked ass with a rose stem. When I was 6 I decided the classroom needed to see lil' Stevester, for that I got the yardstick by the teacher and the broomstick from my mother when I got home. The lesson we should have learned here is that showing your penis leads to bad things, right?
When I was 18 I showed a young lady my penis, and we have now been together for almost 9 years. WTF?! My whole world is being turned topsy turvy! Maybe showing my penis to people is a good thing, something the evil adults never wanted me to know. How do I know that when I go for a bank loan, flashing Ol' Pinkeye will not get the loan approved? How do I know the conversation would not go something like:
Bank official: "Well Stevester you have shitty credit, which is par for the course for you negros Hmmeah hmeahh!'- we share a good natured laugh at this point-', you have no collateral, you're holding tickets to Mexico and you shit on the reception area coffee table. There's no way I would let you borrow a quarter for the vending machine, much less 200000 dollaruskies. (waves hands in magical way) Begone, negro!"
Me: (unzipping pantaloons) "Perhaps this' flashes thick and chunky bald head monkey' will change your mind?"
Bank official (astounded and mesmerized): "Oh my God, the North American Purple-headed beaver basher! I thought it was just a myth! Yes, yes you can have the loan, just please leave that Pink Silver Dollar roll out so that I may bask in it's glory!"
How do I know that showing the police a well polished skin kazoo will not get me out of a ticket? No one knows because you don't friggin' do it! Well screw that! I am going to let my kids show themselves off. I am going to smile proudly as my kid plays pocket pool all the time in public, how do we know he will not flash his way into the presidency? Palm that cock!
By the way the results when I showed my lovely wife Mr. Jenkins were not typical. I have probably shown myself to every person I know (if you have not seen it remind me and I will be glad to initiate you into the club) and the responses have varied from "Well that's a strange response to 'is your Mommy home'" to "Stevester stop it we have company!"
Lesson 2- Shit
When I was 3 and I took a shit my mom and dad would run into the bathroom and shower me with praise and snacks, wipe my ass for me and sing songs and hold hands in gentle harmony. Why is it that now when I try to show off my super chunky brown butter no one wants to see it, and everyone reels back in disgust, saying things like "Ugh put that back in the toilet!" to "Stevester close the damn door we have company!" When did it become wrong to take pride in my dookies? What is wrong with the world today?
Lesson 3- Strangers
When I was young I was told not to talk to strangers, that they were dangerous and should be avoided. Later in like I spoke to a stranger and she allowed me to penetrate 2 of her 3 holes and bought me lunch in school the next day. Smeagol does not talk to strangers and hit on his cousin. Why is that... well no that's fucking disgusting, moving on...
Lesson 4- Food
When we are young we are told to clean our plates or it is 5 across the eyes you little bastard! Yet now I clean my plate and my son's too when he looks the other way and I'm a "total jerk who just made the kids go hungry again". First off whatever happened to "survival of the fittest"? secondly why did I not get a reward for not only eating my din-din but for taking care of someone else's?
More lessons later...
tired feet crunch in unison
You're now of the hoard
Lessons?
Why is it that some lessons learned as youngsters are kept as we get older, yet others are thrown away? Who decides which lessons are to be kept and which become taboo? I study, you learn. Jinqui.
Lesson 1- Penis
When I was a young lad of 4, I took my pants down and showed the other children what it was that made me better than them. For that I got hit on the naked ass with a rose stem. When I was 6 I decided the classroom needed to see lil' Stevester, for that I got the yardstick by the teacher and the broomstick from my mother when I got home. The lesson we should have learned here is that showing your penis leads to bad things, right?
When I was 18 I showed a young lady my penis, and we have now been together for almost 9 years. WTF?! My whole world is being turned topsy turvy! Maybe showing my penis to people is a good thing, something the evil adults never wanted me to know. How do I know that when I go for a bank loan, flashing Ol' Pinkeye will not get the loan approved? How do I know the conversation would not go something like:
Bank official: "Well Stevester you have shitty credit, which is par for the course for you negros Hmmeah hmeahh!'- we share a good natured laugh at this point-', you have no collateral, you're holding tickets to Mexico and you shit on the reception area coffee table. There's no way I would let you borrow a quarter for the vending machine, much less 200000 dollaruskies. (waves hands in magical way) Begone, negro!"
Me: (unzipping pantaloons) "Perhaps this' flashes thick and chunky bald head monkey' will change your mind?"
Bank official (astounded and mesmerized): "Oh my God, the North American Purple-headed beaver basher! I thought it was just a myth! Yes, yes you can have the loan, just please leave that Pink Silver Dollar roll out so that I may bask in it's glory!"
How do I know that showing the police a well polished skin kazoo will not get me out of a ticket? No one knows because you don't friggin' do it! Well screw that! I am going to let my kids show themselves off. I am going to smile proudly as my kid plays pocket pool all the time in public, how do we know he will not flash his way into the presidency? Palm that cock!
By the way the results when I showed my lovely wife Mr. Jenkins were not typical. I have probably shown myself to every person I know (if you have not seen it remind me and I will be glad to initiate you into the club) and the responses have varied from "Well that's a strange response to 'is your Mommy home'" to "Stevester stop it we have company!"
Lesson 2- Shit
When I was 3 and I took a shit my mom and dad would run into the bathroom and shower me with praise and snacks, wipe my ass for me and sing songs and hold hands in gentle harmony. Why is it that now when I try to show off my super chunky brown butter no one wants to see it, and everyone reels back in disgust, saying things like "Ugh put that back in the toilet!" to "Stevester close the damn door we have company!" When did it become wrong to take pride in my dookies? What is wrong with the world today?
Lesson 3- Strangers
When I was young I was told not to talk to strangers, that they were dangerous and should be avoided. Later in like I spoke to a stranger and she allowed me to penetrate 2 of her 3 holes and bought me lunch in school the next day. Smeagol does not talk to strangers and hit on his cousin. Why is that... well no that's fucking disgusting, moving on...
Lesson 4- Food
When we are young we are told to clean our plates or it is 5 across the eyes you little bastard! Yet now I clean my plate and my son's too when he looks the other way and I'm a "total jerk who just made the kids go hungry again". First off whatever happened to "survival of the fittest"? secondly why did I not get a reward for not only eating my din-din but for taking care of someone else's?
More lessons later...
Monday, January 28, 2008
I gotsta know...
Alright so I was at Walmart Saturday, doing the grocery shopping like a good home bitch, and I saw some loofah looking body scrub brushes, they looked like sponges and loofahs mixed together. I bought one and some body wash (old spice to be manlier), and I used it today after my workout. It was exhilarating, my skin felt renewed and exfoliated, I danced with glee as the silly suds caressed my nasty looking body, washing the sweat that had congealed and now looked like mayonnaise out of every silly crevasse (OK I am just trying to be gross here, my bad). I need to know, you all, if a man using a loofah in a public shower where other men would be washing is gay. I need to know before Thursday's basketball game, to avoid embarrassment. I now call upon the counsel of readers to assist me in this. Please vote on the emergency poll to the left, it will expire at 1030 Thursday Morning...
Godspeed all... Godspeed.
Godspeed all... Godspeed.
Stuff that Annoys me, part 58973409 of 898349280843
Apocalyptic
stark buildings contrast grey sky
The robots have won
Annoying Stuff
1. When I go through all the trouble to toilet shop (see definitions for explanation), and some asshole comes into the crapper right after me and takes the stall right next to mine, like we are in a competition or something. Look asshole, I am trying to play my gameboy micro and relax a bit, maybe take the stall 2 down. It's really annoying on the 4th floor here, as there are 7 stalls and they usually STILL take the stall next to mine, and I ALWAYS take the stall the furthest from the door.
2. When I am driving and someone speeds up to make sure I do not get in front of them, then get off at the next exit by cutting me off. I so wish one of these days I could just follow them to where they are going and beat the living shit out of them and then shit on their face while teabagging them.
3. When I take all the trouble to show up for work at the crack of 8:23, and you call at 8:24 because you saw me walking by. Fuck you, you!
4. When we are at an all you can eat buffet and you stand right in front of the food and shoot the shit with someone else, completely oblivious to anyone else trying to get around your rotund ass to get to the food. Why are you even by the salad bar anyway fatso?
5. When it is early morning and you look at, smile at or accidentally touch me. Fuck you, die. Kids too.
6. When you are a kid and you attempt to interact with me.
7. When you are eating 2 slices of pizza one on top of the other with some ham and cheese inside and you are eating so fast the pizza flies out of your mouth and all over my fucking arm because I am sitting in a 3 foot vicinity. He was only eating 2 slices of pizza, I added the ham and cheese because really, he might as well have done that.
8. When I am trying to sleep and you call and ask me if I was asleep when you know goddamn well I was. Eat fuck.
9. When I show you a karate move and you try to take my head off while I am teaching you in order to impress me. Look I can kick the shit out of you and then where would you be? Laying in a hospital bed, drinking your food through a tube inserted into your ass, still doing the move wrong.
10. When you ask me to hold my arm out so you can take blood and dry hump my clenched fist and act like nothing happened. Why do my fingers smell like tasty fish then? Why can I not stop licking them?
11. Talking to me while I am dropping a deuce (Unless I called you, then it's hilarious)... I am trying to concentrate, asshat!
I would make a list of things that make me happy, but that's gay. Plus, and I may be the only one here like this, but being angry makes me happy, kind of like Ren in that episode of Ren and Stimpy when Stimpy put the happiness helmet on him. I miss that cartoon, just like I miss Tom and Jerry before they started talking... Sniff....
Anyway, how about those Chiefs?
stark buildings contrast grey sky
The robots have won
Annoying Stuff
1. When I go through all the trouble to toilet shop (see definitions for explanation), and some asshole comes into the crapper right after me and takes the stall right next to mine, like we are in a competition or something. Look asshole, I am trying to play my gameboy micro and relax a bit, maybe take the stall 2 down. It's really annoying on the 4th floor here, as there are 7 stalls and they usually STILL take the stall next to mine, and I ALWAYS take the stall the furthest from the door.
2. When I am driving and someone speeds up to make sure I do not get in front of them, then get off at the next exit by cutting me off. I so wish one of these days I could just follow them to where they are going and beat the living shit out of them and then shit on their face while teabagging them.
3. When I take all the trouble to show up for work at the crack of 8:23, and you call at 8:24 because you saw me walking by. Fuck you, you!
4. When we are at an all you can eat buffet and you stand right in front of the food and shoot the shit with someone else, completely oblivious to anyone else trying to get around your rotund ass to get to the food. Why are you even by the salad bar anyway fatso?
5. When it is early morning and you look at, smile at or accidentally touch me. Fuck you, die. Kids too.
6. When you are a kid and you attempt to interact with me.
7. When you are eating 2 slices of pizza one on top of the other with some ham and cheese inside and you are eating so fast the pizza flies out of your mouth and all over my fucking arm because I am sitting in a 3 foot vicinity. He was only eating 2 slices of pizza, I added the ham and cheese because really, he might as well have done that.
8. When I am trying to sleep and you call and ask me if I was asleep when you know goddamn well I was. Eat fuck.
9. When I show you a karate move and you try to take my head off while I am teaching you in order to impress me. Look I can kick the shit out of you and then where would you be? Laying in a hospital bed, drinking your food through a tube inserted into your ass, still doing the move wrong.
10. When you ask me to hold my arm out so you can take blood and dry hump my clenched fist and act like nothing happened. Why do my fingers smell like tasty fish then? Why can I not stop licking them?
11. Talking to me while I am dropping a deuce (Unless I called you, then it's hilarious)... I am trying to concentrate, asshat!
I would make a list of things that make me happy, but that's gay. Plus, and I may be the only one here like this, but being angry makes me happy, kind of like Ren in that episode of Ren and Stimpy when Stimpy put the happiness helmet on him. I miss that cartoon, just like I miss Tom and Jerry before they started talking... Sniff....
Anyway, how about those Chiefs?
Friday, January 25, 2008
Short one Today...
I'll bite your torso
and give you a bad disease!
Linoleum Knife!
Poll of the Century
Listen ya'll. We are about to make history here. Like KGP (Kyle Gass Project) and Wesley Willis, there comes a time when a man learns how to play 7 chords on a guitar, and starts a band instead of practicing said chords.
That time is now.
Let me start earlier than that. I played cello for 9 years. I know, I know, "Stevester 9 years?! You must be Nell Carter's son!" Anyway, I decided to build on that success by rocking out on Guitar Hero. I just beat Rock the 80's on Hard mode. I know, I was psyched too. After that, I felt dead inside. I beat the other 2 Guitar Heros I had on Medium and started working on Hard Mode, but the tickly feeling in my balls as I rocked out was dissipating, meaning the thrill was leaving or Max was no longer there.
I decided drastic action was needed.
I bought Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock. Side note on that. DO NOT USE WALMART SITE TO STORE!. If the product you want is in the store, 40 paces from where you have to go pick it up, they still will not let you have one right out of the store, which is what I thought. You have to wait 10 fucking business days for one to be shipped from Satan's Asshole, or wherever the Walmart Big Warehouse is. It pissed me off royally to walk by the Guitar Heros on the shelf and totally not get one for like 2 weeks. Totally gay.
Anyway, I took the success I had built playing Guitar Hero and attempted to apply it to the six string acoustic guitar. You would be amazed to find this out, but it did not translate well. Turns out the guitar on Guitar Hero is nothing like a real guitar, but more of a rhythm game. I was embarrassed, hungry, a little cold, and horny. I leapt into action and watched TV the rest of the night, and purchased a First Act guitar the next day to begin my training at the crack of 6 PM! I have now learned the Ephrygian scale, the blues scale, and 7 chords. I am ready to rawk. But I had left out the most important part: The band name.
I just saw the Aqua Teen Hunger Force Movie, and was psyched about naming my band "Linoleum Knife", which sounds both bad ass and handy in the kitchen, just like me.
But then I saw the video on YouTube of Renaldo Lapuz singing "You are my Brother Forever", and his outfit prompted the Tylester to call him a "Matador Pimp". http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MAP3ZdXeWAk
I now need you my faithful readers and other people who had a school project to look up haikus and stumbled across this site, to assist me in finding destiny.
Please vote in the poll.
and give you a bad disease!
Linoleum Knife!
Poll of the Century
Listen ya'll. We are about to make history here. Like KGP (Kyle Gass Project) and Wesley Willis, there comes a time when a man learns how to play 7 chords on a guitar, and starts a band instead of practicing said chords.
That time is now.
Let me start earlier than that. I played cello for 9 years. I know, I know, "Stevester 9 years?! You must be Nell Carter's son!" Anyway, I decided to build on that success by rocking out on Guitar Hero. I just beat Rock the 80's on Hard mode. I know, I was psyched too. After that, I felt dead inside. I beat the other 2 Guitar Heros I had on Medium and started working on Hard Mode, but the tickly feeling in my balls as I rocked out was dissipating, meaning the thrill was leaving or Max was no longer there.
I decided drastic action was needed.
I bought Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock. Side note on that. DO NOT USE WALMART SITE TO STORE!. If the product you want is in the store, 40 paces from where you have to go pick it up, they still will not let you have one right out of the store, which is what I thought. You have to wait 10 fucking business days for one to be shipped from Satan's Asshole, or wherever the Walmart Big Warehouse is. It pissed me off royally to walk by the Guitar Heros on the shelf and totally not get one for like 2 weeks. Totally gay.
Anyway, I took the success I had built playing Guitar Hero and attempted to apply it to the six string acoustic guitar. You would be amazed to find this out, but it did not translate well. Turns out the guitar on Guitar Hero is nothing like a real guitar, but more of a rhythm game. I was embarrassed, hungry, a little cold, and horny. I leapt into action and watched TV the rest of the night, and purchased a First Act guitar the next day to begin my training at the crack of 6 PM! I have now learned the Ephrygian scale, the blues scale, and 7 chords. I am ready to rawk. But I had left out the most important part: The band name.
I just saw the Aqua Teen Hunger Force Movie, and was psyched about naming my band "Linoleum Knife", which sounds both bad ass and handy in the kitchen, just like me.
But then I saw the video on YouTube of Renaldo Lapuz singing "You are my Brother Forever", and his outfit prompted the Tylester to call him a "Matador Pimp". http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MAP3ZdXeWAk
I now need you my faithful readers and other people who had a school project to look up haikus and stumbled across this site, to assist me in finding destiny.
Please vote in the poll.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Aziz Musa (Part I)
Climb any mountain
scale any sheer tall rock wall
Smeag's failure is there
Aziz Musa
Warning! In some of the later posts there is nudity. I will make the photos small so they do not fill your screen, and I will put a warning at the top of the post when I put the nude pictures in the blog. There are none in this one, but you should, if you are reading these posts, see it coming...
For this one I decided to stop playing the gay route and went with the super hot porn star as my character. Introducing Candi Bubbles, an emerging adult film actress with a striking resemblance to Lisa Sparxxx, a very busty natural boobed lady. Search for her at your own peril, though I will post some more PG photos of her as I sent them to this scumbag. Observe:
So the first email sent was to Philip McKraken, and Candi informs Aziz that this is her agent's email address. Scammer = black, my emails = red, thoughts = blue
From: aziz_musa041@hotmail.com
Subject: VERY URGENT REPLY NEEDED/ CALL ME ASAP ON 00226 78 05 58 81.
Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2007 16:54:35 +0000
From The Desk Of Dr.Aziz Musa.
Bill And Exchange Manager.
African Development Bank
A.D.B.Ouagadougou Burkina-Faso.West Africa.
This is my private e mail: aziz_musa555@yahoo.fr
Private Number....00226 78 05 58 81.
PLANE CRASH WEB SITE http://www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/africa/12/26/benin.crash/index.html
( 'REMITTANCE OF $15.5 FIFTEEN MILLION FIVE HUNDRED THOUSEND U.S.A DOLLARS Only. CONFIDENTIAL IS THE CASE')
Compliment Of The Season,
On a very good day. I am (DR AZIZ MUSA) Manager Of BILL And Exchange in African developent bank (ADB).I got your contact from a Yahoo google Search.When i was searching for a foreign partner i assured of your capability and reliability to champion this businees opportunity when i prayed to God or Allah about you. In my department we discovered an abandoned sum of $ 15.5 million U.S.A dollars ( Fifteen Million Five hundred thousend U.S.A dollars Only) . In an account that belongs to one of our foreign customer MR ADAMS SALAH who died along with his entire family on (friday december 26,2003 ) in a plane crash. Since we got information about his death,
we have been expecting his next of kin to come over and claim his money because we cannot release it unless somebody applies for it as next of kin or relation to the deceased as indicated in our banking guidelines, but unfortunately we learnt that all his supposed next of kin or relation died alongside with him at the plane crash leaving nobody behind for the claim. It is therefore upon this discovery that I and one official in my department now decided to make this businness proposal to you and release the money to you as the next of kin or relation to the deceased for safety and subsequent disbursement since nobody is coming for it and we dont want this money to go into the bank treasury as unclaimed bill.
The Banking law and guideline here stipulates that if such money remained unclamed after five years, the money will be transfered into the Bank treasury as unclaimed fund. The request of foreigner as next of kin in this business is occasioned by the fact that the customer was a foreigner, and a Burkinabe cannot stand as next of kin to a foreigner. We agree that 30% of this money will be for you as foreign partner, in respect to the provision of a foreign account, 10 % will be set aside for expenses incured during the business and 60 % would be for me, Therefore after I and my family will visit you in your country for disbursement according to the percentages indicated.Therefore to enable the immediate trnansfer of this fund to you asarranged, you must apply first to the bank as relations or next of kin of the deceased indicating your bank name, your bank account number, your private telephone and fax number for easy and effective communication and location where the money will be remitted.Upon receipt of your reply, I will send to you by fax or email the text of the application I will not fail to bring to your notice that this transaction is hitch free and that you should not entertain any atom of fear as all required arrangements have been made for the transfer.Your Full Name...........................?
Your Sex.................................?
Your Age.................................?
Your Country.............................?
Marital Status......................?
Your Occupation..........................?
Your Personal Mobile N°...................?
Your Personal Fax N°......................?
You should contact me on my number 00226 78 05 58 81.immediately as soonas you receive this letter.And reply me with this e mail address aziz_musa555@yahoo.fr immediately with those informations i need from you, for me to process the text of application for you to apply to the bank.Yours faithfully,
Dr.Aziz Musa.
POST SCRITUM:You have to keep everything secret as to enable the transfer to move very smoothly in to the account you will proved to the bank.As you finished reading this letter call me immediately so that we discuss very well over this business.Please call me and inform me that you received my mail, because i don't go to net always..........................................................................................
NB/ AS YOU CAN SEE BELOW IS THE PHOTOGRAPH OF MR ADAMS SALAH AND THE BANK DIRECTOR'S DURING ONE OF HIS VISIT TO THE BANK (ADB) WHEN HE WAS ALIVE.
Wow this does not look in any way doctored or fake.
RE: VERY URGENT REPLY NEEDED/ CALL ME ASAP ON 00226 78 05 58 81.
From: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Sent: Thu 12/13/07 10:53 PM
To: aziz_musa555@yahoo.fr
Dear Aziz,
I would like to take advantage of this opportunity. I am glad you got my contact through a Yahoo google search, even though those are two different companies and I never use yahoo. I would love to stand as his next of kin, but there is a problem: I am a white woman. Also you state that all of his kin died in the plane crash, how would the bank react to someone claiming to be his next of kin?
I would call you, but I am in the middle of the desert shooting my new movie: Apache Penetrators 4: The Mojave Connection. It is a loving story about a white woman who falls in love with up to 5 Native American men at once. I like your name, Aziz. Have you ever felt the love that is a white woman? Tell me a little about yerself. Are you married? Do you have any kids? What do you do on your spare time? I will enclose a picture of myself so you know who you are dealing with, you should send me one as well.
This is my agent's email, please in the future contact me at my home email. candi_bubbles@live.com Here are the answers to your questions:
Your Full Name...........................? Candi Bubbles
Your Sex.................................? Female
Your Age.................................? 29
Your Country.............................? United States
Marital Status......................? Single
Your Occupation..........................? actress
Your Personal Mobile N°...................? Not until I know you better
Your Personal Fax N°......................? No one uses fax machines in the United States, they're stupid. Use email instead.
Kisses!
Candi Bubbles
It was very hard to put this photo in the email without jerking one to it, especially since I had Daniel on my lap. Don't judge!
Stay tuned
scale any sheer tall rock wall
Smeag's failure is there
Aziz Musa
Warning! In some of the later posts there is nudity. I will make the photos small so they do not fill your screen, and I will put a warning at the top of the post when I put the nude pictures in the blog. There are none in this one, but you should, if you are reading these posts, see it coming...
For this one I decided to stop playing the gay route and went with the super hot porn star as my character. Introducing Candi Bubbles, an emerging adult film actress with a striking resemblance to Lisa Sparxxx, a very busty natural boobed lady. Search for her at your own peril, though I will post some more PG photos of her as I sent them to this scumbag. Observe:
So the first email sent was to Philip McKraken, and Candi informs Aziz that this is her agent's email address. Scammer = black, my emails = red, thoughts = blue
From: aziz_musa041@hotmail.com
Subject: VERY URGENT REPLY NEEDED/ CALL ME ASAP ON 00226 78 05 58 81.
Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2007 16:54:35 +0000
From The Desk Of Dr.Aziz Musa.
Bill And Exchange Manager.
African Development Bank
A.D.B.Ouagadougou Burkina-Faso.West Africa.
This is my private e mail: aziz_musa555@yahoo.fr
Private Number....00226 78 05 58 81.
PLANE CRASH WEB SITE http://www.cnn.com/2003/WORLD/africa/12/26/benin.crash/index.html
( 'REMITTANCE OF $15.5 FIFTEEN MILLION FIVE HUNDRED THOUSEND U.S.A DOLLARS Only. CONFIDENTIAL IS THE CASE')
Compliment Of The Season,
On a very good day. I am (DR AZIZ MUSA) Manager Of BILL And Exchange in African developent bank (ADB).I got your contact from a Yahoo google Search.When i was searching for a foreign partner i assured of your capability and reliability to champion this businees opportunity when i prayed to God or Allah about you. In my department we discovered an abandoned sum of $ 15.5 million U.S.A dollars ( Fifteen Million Five hundred thousend U.S.A dollars Only) . In an account that belongs to one of our foreign customer MR ADAMS SALAH who died along with his entire family on (friday december 26,2003 ) in a plane crash. Since we got information about his death,
we have been expecting his next of kin to come over and claim his money because we cannot release it unless somebody applies for it as next of kin or relation to the deceased as indicated in our banking guidelines, but unfortunately we learnt that all his supposed next of kin or relation died alongside with him at the plane crash leaving nobody behind for the claim. It is therefore upon this discovery that I and one official in my department now decided to make this businness proposal to you and release the money to you as the next of kin or relation to the deceased for safety and subsequent disbursement since nobody is coming for it and we dont want this money to go into the bank treasury as unclaimed bill.
The Banking law and guideline here stipulates that if such money remained unclamed after five years, the money will be transfered into the Bank treasury as unclaimed fund. The request of foreigner as next of kin in this business is occasioned by the fact that the customer was a foreigner, and a Burkinabe cannot stand as next of kin to a foreigner. We agree that 30% of this money will be for you as foreign partner, in respect to the provision of a foreign account, 10 % will be set aside for expenses incured during the business and 60 % would be for me, Therefore after I and my family will visit you in your country for disbursement according to the percentages indicated.Therefore to enable the immediate trnansfer of this fund to you asarranged, you must apply first to the bank as relations or next of kin of the deceased indicating your bank name, your bank account number, your private telephone and fax number for easy and effective communication and location where the money will be remitted.Upon receipt of your reply, I will send to you by fax or email the text of the application I will not fail to bring to your notice that this transaction is hitch free and that you should not entertain any atom of fear as all required arrangements have been made for the transfer.Your Full Name...........................?
Your Sex.................................?
Your Age.................................?
Your Country.............................?
Marital Status......................?
Your Occupation..........................?
Your Personal Mobile N°...................?
Your Personal Fax N°......................?
You should contact me on my number 00226 78 05 58 81.immediately as soonas you receive this letter.And reply me with this e mail address aziz_musa555@yahoo.fr immediately with those informations i need from you, for me to process the text of application for you to apply to the bank.Yours faithfully,
Dr.Aziz Musa.
POST SCRITUM:You have to keep everything secret as to enable the transfer to move very smoothly in to the account you will proved to the bank.As you finished reading this letter call me immediately so that we discuss very well over this business.Please call me and inform me that you received my mail, because i don't go to net always..........................................................................................
NB/ AS YOU CAN SEE BELOW IS THE PHOTOGRAPH OF MR ADAMS SALAH AND THE BANK DIRECTOR'S DURING ONE OF HIS VISIT TO THE BANK (ADB) WHEN HE WAS ALIVE.
Wow this does not look in any way doctored or fake.
RE: VERY URGENT REPLY NEEDED/ CALL ME ASAP ON 00226 78 05 58 81.
From: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Sent: Thu 12/13/07 10:53 PM
To: aziz_musa555@yahoo.fr
Dear Aziz,
I would like to take advantage of this opportunity. I am glad you got my contact through a Yahoo google search, even though those are two different companies and I never use yahoo. I would love to stand as his next of kin, but there is a problem: I am a white woman. Also you state that all of his kin died in the plane crash, how would the bank react to someone claiming to be his next of kin?
I would call you, but I am in the middle of the desert shooting my new movie: Apache Penetrators 4: The Mojave Connection. It is a loving story about a white woman who falls in love with up to 5 Native American men at once. I like your name, Aziz. Have you ever felt the love that is a white woman? Tell me a little about yerself. Are you married? Do you have any kids? What do you do on your spare time? I will enclose a picture of myself so you know who you are dealing with, you should send me one as well.
This is my agent's email, please in the future contact me at my home email. candi_bubbles@live.com Here are the answers to your questions:
Your Full Name...........................? Candi Bubbles
Your Sex.................................? Female
Your Age.................................? 29
Your Country.............................? United States
Marital Status......................? Single
Your Occupation..........................? actress
Your Personal Mobile N°...................? Not until I know you better
Your Personal Fax N°......................? No one uses fax machines in the United States, they're stupid. Use email instead.
Kisses!
Candi Bubbles
It was very hard to put this photo in the email without jerking one to it, especially since I had Daniel on my lap. Don't judge!Stay tuned
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
JJ Jail Jam
It's Bootzilla here
Twin magnetic funk makers
All ready baby!
If you can say the title of this post 3 times fast, you have too much time on your hands. You're (your for DTodd) fired.
Anyway, no one bailed JJ out, and his girl ended up doing it when she got paid. I was going to feel bad, but I have been burned by Smeagol so many times I am no longer the trusting soul I used to be. He calls me at my house last night, and I am already getting clothes on to go drive him wherever he needs to go when I pick up - it hat been that kind of day. I had gone to see my uncle in Belton, my grandmother in Gladstone why not a trip to Independence? Gas is down all the way to 2.58, I can afford to drive all over fucking creation.
Anyway, he needs a ride, and to borrow gas money, which is a new twist on asking for a ride. How do you ask for a ride then have the person driving you give you gas money? I really don't care, JJ is my brother, I will help if I can. I go pick him up and take him to get his car.
Before I get to the beefy center of this story, the reason he needed a ride from me was because my dad had told him he would not take him anywhere unless he came up with some substantial gas money. You would think my dad would know that since he has no job the only other legal option is to call me, who has to make a 25 mile trip out to pick him up, but I guess they think I am living large and in charge, so what the hell.
Anyway, we are riding along, and JJ informs me of some new lingo he has heard. When crack heads need that rock, they ask in a multitude of ways. He thought he knew them all, as he had been asked the following, and they all mean the asker is attempting to purchase some crack rocks:
"You a rock star?"
"You ready to rock out?"
"You puttin in that work?"
"Hey son, I'll suck you-" nah, I am just kiddin' on that one.
But he heard a new one, one that he had never heard before:
"Hey young blood, you got what it takes?"
He responded that he did not sell crack rocks, if thats what the vagrant meant, to which he toothlessly replied (does anyone know a crack head who has a full head of pearly whites? I'd like to know) "Ah shit brutha I just thought you had what it takes to start the day right is all!"
Anyway, JJ then started talking about his short stint at County, as if I had any idea what he was talking about, and regaled me with a story of his cellmate.
Apparently, when you go to jail it is polite to ask your cell mate what he did to get in there. I am not sure if not asking is a recipe for butt rape, but for the sake of comedy, let's pretend it is. His celly told him the reason he was in there was because of a botched robbery. "Stevester, robberies are rampant in the Kansas City area" You might be saying, trying to catch my sweet ass high score in that helicopter game (1334, ugh son!)... but this one had a twist: It seems his homeboy told him he was packing a gun, and when they happened upon some fair skinned victims, jumped out of the alley and stuck his fingers out, thumbs cocked back, and informed them it was a stickup.
Pause for station identification.
Now here we have to assume a few things:
1. Everyone on the antagonist side was high on something.
2. Somewhere down the line inbreeding had occurred, or bestiality, as I can prove is not all that uncommon in some of my later posts.
Apparently everyone but the guy with the "guns" started laughing, and he got enraged. How dare they laugh at his fake finger gun? He apparently punched the white guy in the mouth, knocking him down. JJ also took this opportunity to inform me he was holding a big gulp, which is funny though not relevant to this story.
While this was happening, across the street at the police station, someone took notice and arrested the two gents. Let that sink in as well. They robbed some white guy at the 7-11 on 31st and Van Brunt, which is LITERALLY across the street from the Van Brunt Police station, thinking they would not be caught. And rappers wonder why no one takes them seriously.
More fun tomorrow, though late.
Twin magnetic funk makers
All ready baby!
If you can say the title of this post 3 times fast, you have too much time on your hands. You're (your for DTodd) fired.
Anyway, no one bailed JJ out, and his girl ended up doing it when she got paid. I was going to feel bad, but I have been burned by Smeagol so many times I am no longer the trusting soul I used to be. He calls me at my house last night, and I am already getting clothes on to go drive him wherever he needs to go when I pick up - it hat been that kind of day. I had gone to see my uncle in Belton, my grandmother in Gladstone why not a trip to Independence? Gas is down all the way to 2.58, I can afford to drive all over fucking creation.
Anyway, he needs a ride, and to borrow gas money, which is a new twist on asking for a ride. How do you ask for a ride then have the person driving you give you gas money? I really don't care, JJ is my brother, I will help if I can. I go pick him up and take him to get his car.
Before I get to the beefy center of this story, the reason he needed a ride from me was because my dad had told him he would not take him anywhere unless he came up with some substantial gas money. You would think my dad would know that since he has no job the only other legal option is to call me, who has to make a 25 mile trip out to pick him up, but I guess they think I am living large and in charge, so what the hell.
Anyway, we are riding along, and JJ informs me of some new lingo he has heard. When crack heads need that rock, they ask in a multitude of ways. He thought he knew them all, as he had been asked the following, and they all mean the asker is attempting to purchase some crack rocks:
"You a rock star?"
"You ready to rock out?"
"You puttin in that work?"
"Hey son, I'll suck you-" nah, I am just kiddin' on that one.
But he heard a new one, one that he had never heard before:
"Hey young blood, you got what it takes?"
He responded that he did not sell crack rocks, if thats what the vagrant meant, to which he toothlessly replied (does anyone know a crack head who has a full head of pearly whites? I'd like to know) "Ah shit brutha I just thought you had what it takes to start the day right is all!"
Anyway, JJ then started talking about his short stint at County, as if I had any idea what he was talking about, and regaled me with a story of his cellmate.
Apparently, when you go to jail it is polite to ask your cell mate what he did to get in there. I am not sure if not asking is a recipe for butt rape, but for the sake of comedy, let's pretend it is. His celly told him the reason he was in there was because of a botched robbery. "Stevester, robberies are rampant in the Kansas City area" You might be saying, trying to catch my sweet ass high score in that helicopter game (1334, ugh son!)... but this one had a twist: It seems his homeboy told him he was packing a gun, and when they happened upon some fair skinned victims, jumped out of the alley and stuck his fingers out, thumbs cocked back, and informed them it was a stickup.
Pause for station identification.
Now here we have to assume a few things:
1. Everyone on the antagonist side was high on something.
2. Somewhere down the line inbreeding had occurred, or bestiality, as I can prove is not all that uncommon in some of my later posts.
Apparently everyone but the guy with the "guns" started laughing, and he got enraged. How dare they laugh at his fake finger gun? He apparently punched the white guy in the mouth, knocking him down. JJ also took this opportunity to inform me he was holding a big gulp, which is funny though not relevant to this story.
While this was happening, across the street at the police station, someone took notice and arrested the two gents. Let that sink in as well. They robbed some white guy at the 7-11 on 31st and Van Brunt, which is LITERALLY across the street from the Van Brunt Police station, thinking they would not be caught. And rappers wonder why no one takes them seriously.
More fun tomorrow, though late.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Wait wait waitaminnit...
By-Tor, the Snow Dog!
He hails from the underworld
He can save the day!
I love that song, by Rush... I have been listening to it almost nonstop for a month and have yet to get tired of it.
Rewind!
OK so in yesterday's post I regaled you of how greedy Smeagol was, how he got 2000 dollars from my mother, who did not have to give him anything and in all honesty probably shouldn't because he still after that would not take her anywhere unless she coughed up gas money, and how right after he tucked the envelope containing the money into his thong, he turned to JJ and I and asked us to borrow some of our money as he had his spent.
Let me go further back for those 2 people reading this blog who think this was a one time thing or that Smeagol was simply having a bad day.
Mom got her settlement in September. Now many times she would say something like she might be getting a settlement and how she planned on giving us money, and I always took it with a grain of salt, being polite but not believing her as she smoked crack rocks. Smeagol completely believed the story and would call me and JJ every other day to speculate and make sure he was the first one to know when she got her money and how much it was, always calling all breathless "Awwwwwwwwwwwwshiiittt niggie, I heard Mom got her check, we need to get down there, I got stuff I need to get!" or "Hey niggie I heard Mom got her check and took it all and went to (insert more and more improbable location on the planet here) so she didn't have to share it!" When I would try to point out how strange that sounded or that even if she did somehow drive to Greenland it was her money and her choice, he would grunt disapprovingly and hang up.
Smeagol's obsession with attaining money for nothing, or maybe it was making money off Mom's misery, became more pronounced as the days past. His face got uglier, the lines in his permanent scowl deepening, his raptor scuffle more and more pronounced, his calls more and more urgent.
Finally the day had arrived. This no talent ass hat calls me at 6 in the morning on a Saturday! "Mom's got her money! OooOoOoh shit niggie I need to get down there!" I could almost hear his raptor rage as he gunned his beat up car and floored it over to Mom's house. You see, Smeagol had stopped paying his bills, and had been pretty much just lurking in the dark corners of his house, working contract short term jobs (meaning 3 or 4 days at a time) in order to eat. He had totally relied on her giving him 5 grand, even though she had said 2. Unlike himself, he had put total faith and trust in my mom, and her ability, through her donation, to pull him our of debt.
So my mom calls me soon after, and asks me to come down to get the money. I am still not comfortable, like I said I hate getting anything from anyone, as I feel like I owe them (I have had to go down on people for paying my way at lunch before, and I'm not proud of it- especially Grandma), but I acquiesce and head on down.
I get there, and Smeagol is tactfully counting the money right in front of her, telling her he wanted to make sure it was all there, and also asking if he could crash at her place for a couple of days. This is another tact of Smeagol. If you have money, he will stay at your house or as close by as he can get until the money is gone. He will look at you pitifully, all of his numerous aches and pains will become even worse, his howls of pain more pronounced when his double-stockinged feet touch carpet, until you either give him the money or spend it all on crap just to get him to leave.
Dammit, duty calls. More Monday, unless you would rather hear more about some scams.
He hails from the underworld
He can save the day!
I love that song, by Rush... I have been listening to it almost nonstop for a month and have yet to get tired of it.
Rewind!
OK so in yesterday's post I regaled you of how greedy Smeagol was, how he got 2000 dollars from my mother, who did not have to give him anything and in all honesty probably shouldn't because he still after that would not take her anywhere unless she coughed up gas money, and how right after he tucked the envelope containing the money into his thong, he turned to JJ and I and asked us to borrow some of our money as he had his spent.
Let me go further back for those 2 people reading this blog who think this was a one time thing or that Smeagol was simply having a bad day.
Mom got her settlement in September. Now many times she would say something like she might be getting a settlement and how she planned on giving us money, and I always took it with a grain of salt, being polite but not believing her as she smoked crack rocks. Smeagol completely believed the story and would call me and JJ every other day to speculate and make sure he was the first one to know when she got her money and how much it was, always calling all breathless "Awwwwwwwwwwwwshiiittt niggie, I heard Mom got her check, we need to get down there, I got stuff I need to get!" or "Hey niggie I heard Mom got her check and took it all and went to (insert more and more improbable location on the planet here) so she didn't have to share it!" When I would try to point out how strange that sounded or that even if she did somehow drive to Greenland it was her money and her choice, he would grunt disapprovingly and hang up.
Smeagol's obsession with attaining money for nothing, or maybe it was making money off Mom's misery, became more pronounced as the days past. His face got uglier, the lines in his permanent scowl deepening, his raptor scuffle more and more pronounced, his calls more and more urgent.
Finally the day had arrived. This no talent ass hat calls me at 6 in the morning on a Saturday! "Mom's got her money! OooOoOoh shit niggie I need to get down there!" I could almost hear his raptor rage as he gunned his beat up car and floored it over to Mom's house. You see, Smeagol had stopped paying his bills, and had been pretty much just lurking in the dark corners of his house, working contract short term jobs (meaning 3 or 4 days at a time) in order to eat. He had totally relied on her giving him 5 grand, even though she had said 2. Unlike himself, he had put total faith and trust in my mom, and her ability, through her donation, to pull him our of debt.
So my mom calls me soon after, and asks me to come down to get the money. I am still not comfortable, like I said I hate getting anything from anyone, as I feel like I owe them (I have had to go down on people for paying my way at lunch before, and I'm not proud of it- especially Grandma), but I acquiesce and head on down.
I get there, and Smeagol is tactfully counting the money right in front of her, telling her he wanted to make sure it was all there, and also asking if he could crash at her place for a couple of days. This is another tact of Smeagol. If you have money, he will stay at your house or as close by as he can get until the money is gone. He will look at you pitifully, all of his numerous aches and pains will become even worse, his howls of pain more pronounced when his double-stockinged feet touch carpet, until you either give him the money or spend it all on crap just to get him to leave.
Dammit, duty calls. More Monday, unless you would rather hear more about some scams.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Smeagol vs. Mystical Retard, Mortal Kombat style!
My name is Smeagol
and failure is my whole game
like jail is my home
The setup:
OK I have probably told this story before, but I wanted to properly hash this out so we can all see how Smeagol became a hated family member.
MR had a stroke, a minor one. She was in the hospital, and JJ was bawling his eyes out. I am not sure whether or not this makes me a jerk, but I cannot bring myself to cry at any situation, or show much emotion either. When my sons were born I was all like "alright, nice job." When my grandfather died, I was sad, but not sad enough to cry or allow anyone to hug me.
Anyway, Smeagol was gleeful the entire time, telling us about how he had predicted the whole thing would happen "I told her with all that junk food she eats she is going to have a stroke or something, tee-hee!" Jeez what a douche. MR got out of the hospital, and went right back to her old life, drinking sugary drinks, eating whatever she wanted, good things.
And so it was that about 3 months later, she collapsed again, this time from high blood sugar (somewhere around 600) and had to go on pills to control her diabetes. Smeagol called me gleefully, yet again: "Hey niggie did you hear what happened to mom? Whooooooooooooniggie she fell down and passed out! I told her to lay off all that Hawaiian Punch she was drinking! Do you think if she dies she left us anything?" This was right on the heels of MR getting a settlement, and giving each of us about 2 grand out of it, and Smeagol taking his money and instantly asking both JJ and I, right in front of our mom, if he could borrow some money because he already had his share spent.
Let me go on a tangent here. My mom got a settlement for something or other, and I tried to make it as plain as possible that I did not feel comfortable taking money from her, because I have this thing where if I accept a gift, money or anything from someone, I feel like I am obligated to be nice to them or perform any act, no matter how small the donation or gift was, for them to pay them back (don't get any ideas, Tylester), and it pisses me off when someone gives me a compliment or anything or does anything nice for me, almost like I was raised wrong.
Anyway, she forced this money on me by telling me I hurt her mystical feelings by refusing her right to help me, so fuck it I took it. JJ is her current favorite son (I think I have the formula down for how to be her favorite son, I will post later) and so she bought him a car for like 3100 bux and gave him 4-500 dollars pocket money. I didn't care, but Smeagol called me every day for weeks asking if I had gotten anything else, and whining about how he got the short end of the stick. I ignored the part about how he would refuse to drive her home and how he crashed at her house and still talked smack to her all the time...
to be continued....
and failure is my whole game
like jail is my home
The setup:
OK I have probably told this story before, but I wanted to properly hash this out so we can all see how Smeagol became a hated family member.
MR had a stroke, a minor one. She was in the hospital, and JJ was bawling his eyes out. I am not sure whether or not this makes me a jerk, but I cannot bring myself to cry at any situation, or show much emotion either. When my sons were born I was all like "alright, nice job." When my grandfather died, I was sad, but not sad enough to cry or allow anyone to hug me.
Anyway, Smeagol was gleeful the entire time, telling us about how he had predicted the whole thing would happen "I told her with all that junk food she eats she is going to have a stroke or something, tee-hee!" Jeez what a douche. MR got out of the hospital, and went right back to her old life, drinking sugary drinks, eating whatever she wanted, good things.
And so it was that about 3 months later, she collapsed again, this time from high blood sugar (somewhere around 600) and had to go on pills to control her diabetes. Smeagol called me gleefully, yet again: "Hey niggie did you hear what happened to mom? Whooooooooooooniggie she fell down and passed out! I told her to lay off all that Hawaiian Punch she was drinking! Do you think if she dies she left us anything?" This was right on the heels of MR getting a settlement, and giving each of us about 2 grand out of it, and Smeagol taking his money and instantly asking both JJ and I, right in front of our mom, if he could borrow some money because he already had his share spent.
Let me go on a tangent here. My mom got a settlement for something or other, and I tried to make it as plain as possible that I did not feel comfortable taking money from her, because I have this thing where if I accept a gift, money or anything from someone, I feel like I am obligated to be nice to them or perform any act, no matter how small the donation or gift was, for them to pay them back (don't get any ideas, Tylester), and it pisses me off when someone gives me a compliment or anything or does anything nice for me, almost like I was raised wrong.
Anyway, she forced this money on me by telling me I hurt her mystical feelings by refusing her right to help me, so fuck it I took it. JJ is her current favorite son (I think I have the formula down for how to be her favorite son, I will post later) and so she bought him a car for like 3100 bux and gave him 4-500 dollars pocket money. I didn't care, but Smeagol called me every day for weeks asking if I had gotten anything else, and whining about how he got the short end of the stick. I ignored the part about how he would refuse to drive her home and how he crashed at her house and still talked smack to her all the time...
to be continued....
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
The Lilian Ray Story (Part I)
Let's go to prison
My family reunion
bring some plastic bags!
Lilian Ray
So for this scam, Lilian used a different tactic that I personally liked: She started out looking for love, and then started talking about scams. I liked this for a number of reasons: 1- it was more interesting, 2- it was a female, which upped the idea of getting her to accept bukkake (please look bukkake up in your spare time to realize how fucking funny this word is, it is a japanese porn video where numerous men shoot jizz on a lovely woman's upturned face after a merry-go-round of blowjobs is administered, and she then drinks the mixed up cream. A delicate operation to be sure), and 3- I knew it was a dude and it tickled my balls to think some shit eating scammer was going to be opening pictures of half naked dudes and having to pretend he liked them. Scammer= black, me= red, thought= blue, Hot Karl= green:
*kiss* With love
From: Miss Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianr@libero.it)
Sent: Thu 11/29/07 8:18 PM
Reply-to: candysweetlilian@libero.it
To: philip_mckraken@hotmail.com
Hello My Dear Friend,
How are you today? I am of the hope that you are doing good. It has been a boring week for me. Well I saw your email and I felt you are a nice person a part of me wants you, despite that I have not seen you in person but something really gave me a nice pleasure to communicate with you maybe because I was made just for you! so I decided to drop you this note. My name is Miss Lilian Ray. I wish we could be friends cos I believe you will appreciate a beautiful and interesting girl in search of love.
You might be the man of my dreams and walking your way into my heart! just send a message to (candysweetlilian@libero.it) any time you realize it, hopefully it will remind you that a part of me is always there with you. My dear do you know that friendship is a gift that is fair in all things. It roots from one's heart and involves memories that stay not for a while but for a lifetime? Love is something special, a treasure I want to find so If someone would ask me what a beautiful life means, I would lean my head on your shoulder and hold you close to me and answer with a smile: "Like this!" My heart welcomes you. You can get in touch with me on my private email address (candysweetlilian@libero.it)
Can I say I love you today? If not, can I ask you again tomorrow? Please never mind cos I don't want to end up missing you, hope and wait to hear from you.
kiss *kiss* With love,
Yours to be.
Lilian.
Awww how sweet, she is in love with the Philster! Now before I post my response note that this goes on for almost 2 months, so do not think this is a short lived scam or that I messed this up with my off the wall photos or pictures:
RE: *kiss* With love
From: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Sent: Thu 11/29/07 11:27 PM
To: candysweetlilian@libero.it
Dearest Lilian, I feel like we have known eachother for eons. I yearn to be beside you, gently caressing your face, fresh from a bukkake session and glowing in the blacklight. Tell me a little about yourself, don't be shy!
Phil McKraken
I like this response, short, sweet, to the point, and above all, classy. I would like it if anyone could tell me, I will post her picture tomorrow, it is a lovely woman, if anyone can tell me who the woman in this photo is. I looked up Dakar or Senegalese models, and they are all lovely too but are not this person. I want to know who she is so I can tell the scammer I knew who he was searching for pictures for to send to me. I will post this as a series, along with my other scams.
My family reunion
bring some plastic bags!
Lilian Ray
So for this scam, Lilian used a different tactic that I personally liked: She started out looking for love, and then started talking about scams. I liked this for a number of reasons: 1- it was more interesting, 2- it was a female, which upped the idea of getting her to accept bukkake (please look bukkake up in your spare time to realize how fucking funny this word is, it is a japanese porn video where numerous men shoot jizz on a lovely woman's upturned face after a merry-go-round of blowjobs is administered, and she then drinks the mixed up cream. A delicate operation to be sure), and 3- I knew it was a dude and it tickled my balls to think some shit eating scammer was going to be opening pictures of half naked dudes and having to pretend he liked them. Scammer= black, me= red, thought= blue, Hot Karl= green:
*kiss* With love
From: Miss Lilian Ray (candysweetlilianr@libero.it)
Sent: Thu 11/29/07 8:18 PM
Reply-to: candysweetlilian@libero.it
To: philip_mckraken@hotmail.com
Hello My Dear Friend,
How are you today? I am of the hope that you are doing good. It has been a boring week for me. Well I saw your email and I felt you are a nice person a part of me wants you, despite that I have not seen you in person but something really gave me a nice pleasure to communicate with you maybe because I was made just for you! so I decided to drop you this note. My name is Miss Lilian Ray. I wish we could be friends cos I believe you will appreciate a beautiful and interesting girl in search of love.
You might be the man of my dreams and walking your way into my heart! just send a message to (candysweetlilian@libero.it) any time you realize it, hopefully it will remind you that a part of me is always there with you. My dear do you know that friendship is a gift that is fair in all things. It roots from one's heart and involves memories that stay not for a while but for a lifetime? Love is something special, a treasure I want to find so If someone would ask me what a beautiful life means, I would lean my head on your shoulder and hold you close to me and answer with a smile: "Like this!" My heart welcomes you. You can get in touch with me on my private email address (candysweetlilian@libero.it)
Can I say I love you today? If not, can I ask you again tomorrow? Please never mind cos I don't want to end up missing you, hope and wait to hear from you.
kiss *kiss* With love,
Yours to be.
Lilian.
Awww how sweet, she is in love with the Philster! Now before I post my response note that this goes on for almost 2 months, so do not think this is a short lived scam or that I messed this up with my off the wall photos or pictures:
RE: *kiss* With love
From: Philip McKraken (philip_mckraken@hotmail.com)
Sent: Thu 11/29/07 11:27 PM
To: candysweetlilian@libero.it
Dearest Lilian, I feel like we have known eachother for eons. I yearn to be beside you, gently caressing your face, fresh from a bukkake session and glowing in the blacklight. Tell me a little about yourself, don't be shy!
Phil McKraken
I like this response, short, sweet, to the point, and above all, classy. I would like it if anyone could tell me, I will post her picture tomorrow, it is a lovely woman, if anyone can tell me who the woman in this photo is. I looked up Dakar or Senegalese models, and they are all lovely too but are not this person. I want to know who she is so I can tell the scammer I knew who he was searching for pictures for to send to me. I will post this as a series, along with my other scams.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Dammit Man!
Hey ya'll, JJ is in jail again, which means Smeagol is not far behind. Now I know you are all jumping at an opportunity to get them out of jail and into your homes, for different reasons, and that is why I am here to offer you that chance because I cannot. 350 for JJ and let's just bank on an even 200 to get Smeagol out of jail. Your donation will go towards offering them a chance at freedom, and the opportunity to go back to jail when their bail bondman finds out they have no intention of ever paying him back.
Give all you can, love life, and liberty.
Give all you can, love life, and liberty.
Just crap
Get outta my dreams
Get into my car, Hey! You!
Get into My Car!
Used with permission from Billy Ocean, who lives in my basement.
Random Shiznit
My sister is notoriously bad with automobiles. My dad once bought a 1979 Mercury Monarch, dark blue, in pristine condition for her to drive. She ran it into concrete pillars twice, a brick wall once, hit 2 other cars and tried to jump a 3 foot wall, unsuccessfully. Funny thing about that car is it still ran after all that, and was even stolen, technically. I say technically because my dad tried to run into the house to get the keys for them but by the time he got outside they had already rolled it to the bottom of the hill and were trying to make a getaway, and I guess he did not want to embarrass them.
Every day I find out I am incompatible with children for more and more reasons. I have this inkling that they hate me as much if not more than I hate them, though I do not know why. This feeling was reinforced when this little asswipe moseyed on over and asked if my kids could come out to play. I had already told him no 3 times, on the 3 previous times that day he had come over, all within 15 minutes of each other. I was not rude enough the other 3 times apparently, having promised my wife I would not tell them to kill themselves and then slam the door in their face like I had been doing, and he took this as an invitation to wear me down until I allowed them to go outside (they didn't want to go, I tried telling him that) or I let him into my house (yeah right). So he knocks on the door, and I open it, and he starts this fucking baby talk shit, he's 7 by the way: "Ma ma ma ma I sure wish I could come in your house gaa gaa goo goo " and dancing around like a retarded lemur on crack. I simply close the door, not wanting to hurt his wittle feewings by telling him how much his very presence annoys me. I go back to sit down on the couch and finish watching the game, as my youngest was asleep on the couch and my other two were quietly playing a game for once in their lives. I then hear this loud crash and see that little bastard banging on the game room window, trying to get my kids attention.
Little fuckin' bastard, he woke my kid up. Now it's on. I let him continue banging on the door, giggling and calling my kids, who are ignoring him because I think he annoys them as much as he does me, or I hope he does, and I get a pitcher of ice water and sneak out the back door. I go around front, and see him jumping around, doing that damn baby talk, and dump the whole thing on his head, completely soaking him. I would feel bad but this little kid is the one who kicks my dog all the time, and like I said I hate kids, and who is outside with no coat on in the damn winter anyway?
He starts whining about how cold he is and starts running away, and once he feels he is a safe distance away calls me a nigger and runs into his house. While it sucks that he got the last word, it still felt good to make a little kid cry, I mean who doesn't love that?
JJ called me and asked me to get a bunch of magazines sent to him, I put down his name as Jonathan Knobgobler, so that should be good.
My sister did not tell my mother that she was going to get married, only telling me. She also gave my mom a wrong address to her house, only telling me and telling me not to tell anyone else because she does not want Smeagol knowing she lives closer to him. I informed her with his advanced raptorscent, he can tell where she is at any given time and so she is not free from his clawed grasp. I am wondering if I should tell my mom where she is, though. I mean mom is no longer a mystical retard, she's actually pretty cool, musical tastes aside (Evansblue? Ugh), and I think if my sister saw that she was "normal", as much as that word can apply to my mother (yes she still will flash anyone who she thinks wants to see, and sees no problem with grabbing a tit or two upon first meeting someone, or another appendage, though I have never heard any complaints on that end) she would be more inclined to let her into her life, which is all my mom wants. I told her it was because of Smeagol and that fistfight 13 or so years ago, and she told me to tell my sister she will not let Smeags know. How shitty of a person do you have to be when you can cause someone to completely alienate themselves from their entire family just at the prospect of having to speak to you?
I need to get JJ a good job so he can see how great working and receiving money legally are, I do not want him to end up like Smeags, huddling in dark corners with raw fish, overstaying your welcome at people's house before you even get there, copping a field on anything that is not fast enough to evade your claws, and generally being a damper on the entire society of which you are a part. The thing is he does not want to do fast food or menial labor. Does anyone have a high paying opportunity for a young man that does not drug test, does not care that he does not currently have a GED, that requires long sessions of video game play and allows a very casual dress code? If so can you send me the information so I can apply and then give JJ my job?
So those of you in the technical industry know that something that works 99.999% of the time will fail when you try to resolve an issue for someone important, right? I got a call from the chief judge, and it's funny: the same resolution I had used since I started here, the same resolution that I employ at lest twice a day, in essence completely fragged her roaming profile. WHat started out as an internet connectivity issue turned into me desperately trying to find out what processes controlled her Antivirus and recreating her entire Windows profile, and all that said it worked about 5 minutes after I hung up. Does this happen to anyone else? Is it because I was mean to Flanders?
Tomorrow, I want to get into the Lilian Ray Scam series. I think you will all like it because it is genuinely different from all of the other scams I do. It is this girl who is apparently looking for love, and also someone to work out the modalities of a consignment. She is working with a Reverend who apparently is very easily upset and does not want his photo taken at all. This one is still going on, even after I told them I knew they were scam artists.
Get into my car, Hey! You!
Get into My Car!
Used with permission from Billy Ocean, who lives in my basement.
Random Shiznit
My sister is notoriously bad with automobiles. My dad once bought a 1979 Mercury Monarch, dark blue, in pristine condition for her to drive. She ran it into concrete pillars twice, a brick wall once, hit 2 other cars and tried to jump a 3 foot wall, unsuccessfully. Funny thing about that car is it still ran after all that, and was even stolen, technically. I say technically because my dad tried to run into the house to get the keys for them but by the time he got outside they had already rolled it to the bottom of the hill and were trying to make a getaway, and I guess he did not want to embarrass them.
Every day I find out I am incompatible with children for more and more reasons. I have this inkling that they hate me as much if not more than I hate them, though I do not know why. This feeling was reinforced when this little asswipe moseyed on over and asked if my kids could come out to play. I had already told him no 3 times, on the 3 previous times that day he had come over, all within 15 minutes of each other. I was not rude enough the other 3 times apparently, having promised my wife I would not tell them to kill themselves and then slam the door in their face like I had been doing, and he took this as an invitation to wear me down until I allowed them to go outside (they didn't want to go, I tried telling him that) or I let him into my house (yeah right). So he knocks on the door, and I open it, and he starts this fucking baby talk shit, he's 7 by the way: "Ma ma ma ma I sure wish I could come in your house gaa gaa goo goo " and dancing around like a retarded lemur on crack. I simply close the door, not wanting to hurt his wittle feewings by telling him how much his very presence annoys me. I go back to sit down on the couch and finish watching the game, as my youngest was asleep on the couch and my other two were quietly playing a game for once in their lives. I then hear this loud crash and see that little bastard banging on the game room window, trying to get my kids attention.
Little fuckin' bastard, he woke my kid up. Now it's on. I let him continue banging on the door, giggling and calling my kids, who are ignoring him because I think he annoys them as much as he does me, or I hope he does, and I get a pitcher of ice water and sneak out the back door. I go around front, and see him jumping around, doing that damn baby talk, and dump the whole thing on his head, completely soaking him. I would feel bad but this little kid is the one who kicks my dog all the time, and like I said I hate kids, and who is outside with no coat on in the damn winter anyway?
He starts whining about how cold he is and starts running away, and once he feels he is a safe distance away calls me a nigger and runs into his house. While it sucks that he got the last word, it still felt good to make a little kid cry, I mean who doesn't love that?
JJ called me and asked me to get a bunch of magazines sent to him, I put down his name as Jonathan Knobgobler, so that should be good.
My sister did not tell my mother that she was going to get married, only telling me. She also gave my mom a wrong address to her house, only telling me and telling me not to tell anyone else because she does not want Smeagol knowing she lives closer to him. I informed her with his advanced raptorscent, he can tell where she is at any given time and so she is not free from his clawed grasp. I am wondering if I should tell my mom where she is, though. I mean mom is no longer a mystical retard, she's actually pretty cool, musical tastes aside (Evansblue? Ugh), and I think if my sister saw that she was "normal", as much as that word can apply to my mother (yes she still will flash anyone who she thinks wants to see, and sees no problem with grabbing a tit or two upon first meeting someone, or another appendage, though I have never heard any complaints on that end) she would be more inclined to let her into her life, which is all my mom wants. I told her it was because of Smeagol and that fistfight 13 or so years ago, and she told me to tell my sister she will not let Smeags know. How shitty of a person do you have to be when you can cause someone to completely alienate themselves from their entire family just at the prospect of having to speak to you?
I need to get JJ a good job so he can see how great working and receiving money legally are, I do not want him to end up like Smeags, huddling in dark corners with raw fish, overstaying your welcome at people's house before you even get there, copping a field on anything that is not fast enough to evade your claws, and generally being a damper on the entire society of which you are a part. The thing is he does not want to do fast food or menial labor. Does anyone have a high paying opportunity for a young man that does not drug test, does not care that he does not currently have a GED, that requires long sessions of video game play and allows a very casual dress code? If so can you send me the information so I can apply and then give JJ my job?
So those of you in the technical industry know that something that works 99.999% of the time will fail when you try to resolve an issue for someone important, right? I got a call from the chief judge, and it's funny: the same resolution I had used since I started here, the same resolution that I employ at lest twice a day, in essence completely fragged her roaming profile. WHat started out as an internet connectivity issue turned into me desperately trying to find out what processes controlled her Antivirus and recreating her entire Windows profile, and all that said it worked about 5 minutes after I hung up. Does this happen to anyone else? Is it because I was mean to Flanders?
Tomorrow, I want to get into the Lilian Ray Scam series. I think you will all like it because it is genuinely different from all of the other scams I do. It is this girl who is apparently looking for love, and also someone to work out the modalities of a consignment. She is working with a Reverend who apparently is very easily upset and does not want his photo taken at all. This one is still going on, even after I told them I knew they were scam artists.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Shit mom has done, part I
That Crazy Smeagol
Doth this raptor know no shame?
His thong sure doesn't
1. When we were little, mom would take us to cemeteries and make us get out in different sections, and tell us to bring her a set number of names. This was called "getting culture"
2. My mom told my little brother and I that there was an electrical field over the water at mall fountains to keep us from stealing change. I believed it until I was in my 20s (I am not going to tell you how long into my 20s I was before I touched the water)
3. When I was 4, my mother took me to Gilham park and threw me in the deep end of the pool, and told me if I wanted to live to swim out. This was because I asked for swimming lessons a week before
4. When my mom would beat us, she would pick us up by one leg and whip us like a pinata, with a broom handle or extension cord. I one pissed myself whilst being beaten especially hard, and my own piss got in my mouth. I blamed her.
5. I know I have said something about it before, but one time (at band camp) we were at the mall, a crowded mall, let's say Metro North, and she was making a fucking home in the free samples of chips and salsa, and exclaimed loud enough for anyone in the greater metro area to hear "Wow, that was great, I ought to go suck Jeff's dick now to get the spice out!" Right in front of my friend.
6. When her mystical retard sightings would hit her, she would call me at all hours in the middle of the night to inform me of all manner of weird shit she wanted me to do: "Stevester! I dreamed of a fish eating it's own head while a chicken jerked a robot gigolo off onto the countertop! You have to go to Warsaw and pick up a Maple leaf before the Klingons attack!"
Smeagol
So I get a call this weekend from JJ, nothing much just wanting to shoot the shit, and I feel that familiar inkling that something is up with the Smeagol. Turns out that storage company he had his crap at was getting complaints about his - shall we say - less that desirable scented locker. Note when we dropped off the maggot infested fridge, the shit encrusted fish tank and doo doo plastered washer and dryer, we did not spend any time on cleanup. The fact that Smeagol was never very good at adhering to payment schedules factored in, and I heard he is looking around to offload some of his things at various people's houses, because he doesn't want that smelly crap stinking his apartment up, not when his thong does that job admirably by itself. He asked for my phone number.
Anyone got some storage space?
Doth this raptor know no shame?
His thong sure doesn't
1. When we were little, mom would take us to cemeteries and make us get out in different sections, and tell us to bring her a set number of names. This was called "getting culture"
2. My mom told my little brother and I that there was an electrical field over the water at mall fountains to keep us from stealing change. I believed it until I was in my 20s (I am not going to tell you how long into my 20s I was before I touched the water)
3. When I was 4, my mother took me to Gilham park and threw me in the deep end of the pool, and told me if I wanted to live to swim out. This was because I asked for swimming lessons a week before
4. When my mom would beat us, she would pick us up by one leg and whip us like a pinata, with a broom handle or extension cord. I one pissed myself whilst being beaten especially hard, and my own piss got in my mouth. I blamed her.
5. I know I have said something about it before, but one time (at band camp) we were at the mall, a crowded mall, let's say Metro North, and she was making a fucking home in the free samples of chips and salsa, and exclaimed loud enough for anyone in the greater metro area to hear "Wow, that was great, I ought to go suck Jeff's dick now to get the spice out!" Right in front of my friend.
6. When her mystical retard sightings would hit her, she would call me at all hours in the middle of the night to inform me of all manner of weird shit she wanted me to do: "Stevester! I dreamed of a fish eating it's own head while a chicken jerked a robot gigolo off onto the countertop! You have to go to Warsaw and pick up a Maple leaf before the Klingons attack!"
Smeagol
So I get a call this weekend from JJ, nothing much just wanting to shoot the shit, and I feel that familiar inkling that something is up with the Smeagol. Turns out that storage company he had his crap at was getting complaints about his - shall we say - less that desirable scented locker. Note when we dropped off the maggot infested fridge, the shit encrusted fish tank and doo doo plastered washer and dryer, we did not spend any time on cleanup. The fact that Smeagol was never very good at adhering to payment schedules factored in, and I heard he is looking around to offload some of his things at various people's houses, because he doesn't want that smelly crap stinking his apartment up, not when his thong does that job admirably by itself. He asked for my phone number.
Anyone got some storage space?
Friday, January 11, 2008
Smeagol, Vs. Angela: The Final Frontier
An annoying truth
an angry wife trumps black belt
You will lose that fight
Smeagol, Angelina, ?
So we get out to Smeagol's house and meet Angelina and her sister, who is actually kind of cute in that trailer-trash she-must-have-a-disease way, her lip with the telltale sore on the corner showing she had either cut her lip or had walked by Smeagol. Smeagol was lounging on the couch, his thong in full display, grunting unhappily because I was interrupting the movin' pictures (he loves him some wrastlin').
I walk in, feeling like a complete douche, and try to see what the hell is going on: "Hey, Mom said you got your ass whooped and was living in the basement."
I got the Smeagol growl of disapproval, and he informed me that she had knocked him onto the floor for talking shit to her. Angelina moseyed into their bedroom while he was talking, and some huge beefy dude, you know the kind, the ones with the barb wire tattoo and who wear Hawaiian shorts, even in the wintertime, and have the blond highlights and try to do everything "extreme", moseys out of their bedroom. Smeagol glances at him unapprovingly, and then decides to finish eating his tomato slices swimming in what looks like a cool whip container filled with Ranch dressing. SSSSSCCCCHLLLUUUUUUUURRRRRPPP!
The smell in his house is enough to make a mule shit itself, so JJ and I leave. It would not be the only time Angelina had whooped up on him, or the only time we had to save Smeagol from what was probably a well-deserved beating.
Later, as we were helping him move, I noticed in his dark, smelly basement, a cot with a ratty blanket on it in the corner, tucked away. Although I did not see the Failure Boundary, an invisible barrier that can kill all living things that enter it, I assumed it was Smeags'. I instantly felt sorry for him, and wanted to help him as much as I could. Until those damn maggots fell out of the fridge. Fucking nasty buzzard.
This brings me to another point. Why would my mom help Smeagol after all he has done to her? They worked at the same nursing home, and even when Smeagol was going to HER fucking house after work to eat her food or crash because his utilities were off again, he refused to drive her unless she gave him gas money. He stranded her numerous times, sometimes because he couldn't beat a tough level on Castlevania on his Playstation, or she had disturbed his pre-bedtime post- dinnertime nap, or wrestling was on.
Smeagol will only help you if there is something in it for him. If you were on fire, and Smeagol was bailing water out of his car as it was flooding 5 feet away, he would intentionally throw the water the other way unless you offered him money or sexual favors. Unless you were hot, then you could get away with allowing him to sniff your vagina in exchange for his entire paycheck, not unlike Arnold Schwarzenegger. I know that is not the correct spelling, you know who I am talking about.
Anyway, Special post Monday, to all a great weekend full of PBR or your favorite brew, drink it by the pint yall!
an angry wife trumps black belt
You will lose that fight
Smeagol, Angelina, ?
So we get out to Smeagol's house and meet Angelina and her sister, who is actually kind of cute in that trailer-trash she-must-have-a-disease way, her lip with the telltale sore on the corner showing she had either cut her lip or had walked by Smeagol. Smeagol was lounging on the couch, his thong in full display, grunting unhappily because I was interrupting the movin' pictures (he loves him some wrastlin').
I walk in, feeling like a complete douche, and try to see what the hell is going on: "Hey, Mom said you got your ass whooped and was living in the basement."
I got the Smeagol growl of disapproval, and he informed me that she had knocked him onto the floor for talking shit to her. Angelina moseyed into their bedroom while he was talking, and some huge beefy dude, you know the kind, the ones with the barb wire tattoo and who wear Hawaiian shorts, even in the wintertime, and have the blond highlights and try to do everything "extreme", moseys out of their bedroom. Smeagol glances at him unapprovingly, and then decides to finish eating his tomato slices swimming in what looks like a cool whip container filled with Ranch dressing. SSSSSCCCCHLLLUUUUUUUURRRRRPPP!
The smell in his house is enough to make a mule shit itself, so JJ and I leave. It would not be the only time Angelina had whooped up on him, or the only time we had to save Smeagol from what was probably a well-deserved beating.
Later, as we were helping him move, I noticed in his dark, smelly basement, a cot with a ratty blanket on it in the corner, tucked away. Although I did not see the Failure Boundary, an invisible barrier that can kill all living things that enter it, I assumed it was Smeags'. I instantly felt sorry for him, and wanted to help him as much as I could. Until those damn maggots fell out of the fridge. Fucking nasty buzzard.
This brings me to another point. Why would my mom help Smeagol after all he has done to her? They worked at the same nursing home, and even when Smeagol was going to HER fucking house after work to eat her food or crash because his utilities were off again, he refused to drive her unless she gave him gas money. He stranded her numerous times, sometimes because he couldn't beat a tough level on Castlevania on his Playstation, or she had disturbed his pre-bedtime post- dinnertime nap, or wrestling was on.
Smeagol will only help you if there is something in it for him. If you were on fire, and Smeagol was bailing water out of his car as it was flooding 5 feet away, he would intentionally throw the water the other way unless you offered him money or sexual favors. Unless you were hot, then you could get away with allowing him to sniff your vagina in exchange for his entire paycheck, not unlike Arnold Schwarzenegger. I know that is not the correct spelling, you know who I am talking about.
Anyway, Special post Monday, to all a great weekend full of PBR or your favorite brew, drink it by the pint yall!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Smeagol and the Dungeon of....well....Smeagol
I'm out of haikus
and yet they still flow freely
Dat's doo doo butter
The Call
So I was getting off of work, and was contemplating standing out in the little courtyard outside the law firm and listening to the Jesus music that had been playing all day whilst masturbating furiously, when my mom called. I looked at the number, wondering if I should just let it roll over to voicemail, remembered she would not know it was voicemail and would simply talk about how spiritual it was that I listened and didn't talk for an hour, and picked up.
"It's Smeagol' she said breathlessly, as if it was an emergency 'he's been beat up something bad Stevester. I need you to pick up JJ and some of his friends and drive over to his house to help him out right away! Is your Escort certified?" Like muthafuckin' bacon, beeeeitch! No I am kidding about that last part but it woulda been funny as shit, right? Rather than take the case, like I knew JJ would, I asked her what happened, as I did not want to make a trip all the way out to Smeagol's house, a-fucking-gain, and have nothing be wrong. Mystical Retard has sent me numerous places based off of dreams, visions induced by the crack rocks, and other forms of dementia; I mean when we were kids we would go out weekly to "get some culture" and our mother would drop us off in the middle of a cemetery and make us walk around and make our way back to her van. Do you know what walking around in a cemetery, completely alone, sometimes in the dark can do to a child? Fuck dude!
Anyway, this was no Mystical Dream, and she had not had any crack for a few months. "Smeagol told me Angelina whooped his ass and is making him live in his own basement, only letting him out to go to work! You gotta grab some people and go help your brother, it's so spiritual!" OK I was not surprised Smeagol had had his anus whooped. That part I get. The part about him being forced to live in his own basement I get, although at first I wondered why he did not like it down there. If you think about it, though, raptors need a warm environment to survive, and his basement was in Old Independence, and was cold, dark and gloomy, not unlike the cave he inhabited when he was in Lord of the Rings. What got me was he was allowed to leave his captor and go to work, but never made any move to escape. Who does that sound like?
I can see it from both angles: from one side, Smeagol should never be allowed in public, as his failure is toxic in large doses, much as the scent of his thong can kill a small child at 50 paces. On the other hand, why would you even bother being with someone if you are only going to beat them up and make them live in the basement all the time?
Fuck it, I am bored, and I do not feel like going home to listen to the wife tell me all the gossip in the neighborhood (she is not a gossip, but she loves talking, unless those are the same things and then she is a gossip, I am not sure how that works), so I pick up JJ and Hoodrow and we head out.
Before I go on with the third and final part of this trilogy, allow me to levy a spoiler alert: though there is a dingy cot and a bucket along with the washer and dryer in his basement, I have no definitive proof Smeagol was actually forced to live down there, though he had had his ass kicked by Angelina, and her younger sister.
Tomorrow: the shocking conclusion and a surprise guest (hint: crack is very much involved, but not in the way you might be thinking...)
and yet they still flow freely
Dat's doo doo butter
The Call
So I was getting off of work, and was contemplating standing out in the little courtyard outside the law firm and listening to the Jesus music that had been playing all day whilst masturbating furiously, when my mom called. I looked at the number, wondering if I should just let it roll over to voicemail, remembered she would not know it was voicemail and would simply talk about how spiritual it was that I listened and didn't talk for an hour, and picked up.
"It's Smeagol' she said breathlessly, as if it was an emergency 'he's been beat up something bad Stevester. I need you to pick up JJ and some of his friends and drive over to his house to help him out right away! Is your Escort certified?" Like muthafuckin' bacon, beeeeitch! No I am kidding about that last part but it woulda been funny as shit, right? Rather than take the case, like I knew JJ would, I asked her what happened, as I did not want to make a trip all the way out to Smeagol's house, a-fucking-gain, and have nothing be wrong. Mystical Retard has sent me numerous places based off of dreams, visions induced by the crack rocks, and other forms of dementia; I mean when we were kids we would go out weekly to "get some culture" and our mother would drop us off in the middle of a cemetery and make us walk around and make our way back to her van. Do you know what walking around in a cemetery, completely alone, sometimes in the dark can do to a child? Fuck dude!
Anyway, this was no Mystical Dream, and she had not had any crack for a few months. "Smeagol told me Angelina whooped his ass and is making him live in his own basement, only letting him out to go to work! You gotta grab some people and go help your brother, it's so spiritual!" OK I was not surprised Smeagol had had his anus whooped. That part I get. The part about him being forced to live in his own basement I get, although at first I wondered why he did not like it down there. If you think about it, though, raptors need a warm environment to survive, and his basement was in Old Independence, and was cold, dark and gloomy, not unlike the cave he inhabited when he was in Lord of the Rings. What got me was he was allowed to leave his captor and go to work, but never made any move to escape. Who does that sound like?
I can see it from both angles: from one side, Smeagol should never be allowed in public, as his failure is toxic in large doses, much as the scent of his thong can kill a small child at 50 paces. On the other hand, why would you even bother being with someone if you are only going to beat them up and make them live in the basement all the time?
Fuck it, I am bored, and I do not feel like going home to listen to the wife tell me all the gossip in the neighborhood (she is not a gossip, but she loves talking, unless those are the same things and then she is a gossip, I am not sure how that works), so I pick up JJ and Hoodrow and we head out.
Before I go on with the third and final part of this trilogy, allow me to levy a spoiler alert: though there is a dingy cot and a bucket along with the washer and dryer in his basement, I have no definitive proof Smeagol was actually forced to live down there, though he had had his ass kicked by Angelina, and her younger sister.
Tomorrow: the shocking conclusion and a surprise guest (hint: crack is very much involved, but not in the way you might be thinking...)
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Yeccch
By the way, whoever voted "Yes" is sorely misguided, but the person who voted "Not as hot as Keling" Should be shot. In the face. Hasselhoff is a hottie tho. TOtally not in a gay way, I just like his hairy chest, his curly man-mullet glistening in the sun as he polishes Kitt, tight pants undulating with.....uh...shit.
Smeagol Und Angelina
Where's my consignment?
We worked out modalities!
Butt-fuckin' scammers...
Smeagol V Angelina (but not Jolie)
So soon after Erica realized the Smeags had no money or aspirations or teeth or plans to shower, she left him and went back to her husband, taking her big head ugly ass kid with her. I am telling you that kid was not cute. I am sure he had other qualities and would grow up to lead a troubled people one day but DAMN! I would hope if one of my kids was ugly one of my friends would have the decency to inform me of this before I was seen in public with him much longer. I mean honestly, people throw me a frickin' bone here. (Have I mentioned Dr. Evil from Austin Powers is my hero?)
Anyway, a month or two goes by, and Smeagol shows up with another lady. "Well good, he is back with his lovely wife Mystery, now the sanctity of marriage is complete" You might be saying to yourself. Well, not really. Instead of going back to his wife, he hooked up with Angelina, quite possibly the most evil looking woman I have met. She always seemed to have a scowl on her face, though that may be the after effect of waking up next to a raptor in the morning knowing you had sex with it the night before, drinking in the swamp gas emanating from it's slack jaws, a little drool still on your hardened nipples from him attempting to nurse while you slept, the stench of failure mixing in with the smell of his thong, hanging limply from your lamp, tiny tendrils of smoke from all the doo doo butter lazily floating around your room.
Anyway, it was close to Thanksgiving, and we invited everyone to our house, which was a problem waiting to happen, and may be a post in itself, there was too much going on to put it all in one post, so I will try to go at it from different perspectives. Smeagol revelled in telling us of his sexual exploits with Angelina, telling us of her heart of gold as she sat there scowling at my infant son like he was the reason she was with such an ugly man.
I will post on Thanksgiving later, but I wanted to get to the reason their love affair was so funny. About February of last year, after Thanksgiving, I got a call from the Mystical Retard. Smeagol had received his comeuppance in another bout of fisticuffs. I asked how old the guy was this time, thinking inwardly that if he was over 85 again I was going to have even less respect for Smeagol than I did not, and like a hurried shocker without the lube, Mom thrust the news upon me: SMeagol had been beaten up by Angelina.
The news hit me like an unstoppable rebel force, and for a second I was blinded by the light, revved up like a deuce another runner in the night. I listened as she asked me to pick up JJ and go help Smeagol out, as he was being assaulted by his own girlfriend.
part II tomorrow...
We worked out modalities!
Butt-fuckin' scammers...
Smeagol V Angelina (but not Jolie)
So soon after Erica realized the Smeags had no money or aspirations or teeth or plans to shower, she left him and went back to her husband, taking her big head ugly ass kid with her. I am telling you that kid was not cute. I am sure he had other qualities and would grow up to lead a troubled people one day but DAMN! I would hope if one of my kids was ugly one of my friends would have the decency to inform me of this before I was seen in public with him much longer. I mean honestly, people throw me a frickin' bone here. (Have I mentioned Dr. Evil from Austin Powers is my hero?)
Anyway, a month or two goes by, and Smeagol shows up with another lady. "Well good, he is back with his lovely wife Mystery, now the sanctity of marriage is complete" You might be saying to yourself. Well, not really. Instead of going back to his wife, he hooked up with Angelina, quite possibly the most evil looking woman I have met. She always seemed to have a scowl on her face, though that may be the after effect of waking up next to a raptor in the morning knowing you had sex with it the night before, drinking in the swamp gas emanating from it's slack jaws, a little drool still on your hardened nipples from him attempting to nurse while you slept, the stench of failure mixing in with the smell of his thong, hanging limply from your lamp, tiny tendrils of smoke from all the doo doo butter lazily floating around your room.
Anyway, it was close to Thanksgiving, and we invited everyone to our house, which was a problem waiting to happen, and may be a post in itself, there was too much going on to put it all in one post, so I will try to go at it from different perspectives. Smeagol revelled in telling us of his sexual exploits with Angelina, telling us of her heart of gold as she sat there scowling at my infant son like he was the reason she was with such an ugly man.
I will post on Thanksgiving later, but I wanted to get to the reason their love affair was so funny. About February of last year, after Thanksgiving, I got a call from the Mystical Retard. Smeagol had received his comeuppance in another bout of fisticuffs. I asked how old the guy was this time, thinking inwardly that if he was over 85 again I was going to have even less respect for Smeagol than I did not, and like a hurried shocker without the lube, Mom thrust the news upon me: SMeagol had been beaten up by Angelina.
The news hit me like an unstoppable rebel force, and for a second I was blinded by the light, revved up like a deuce another runner in the night. I listened as she asked me to pick up JJ and go help Smeagol out, as he was being assaulted by his own girlfriend.
part II tomorrow...
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
WTF?! Who is this beeeitch?
So, wanna puppy?
seriously, ya want one?
I've got 8 of them
The above haiku is beautiful poetry and also a plea for someone to take these little shits off of my hands. I mean, lovely perfectly mannered puppies.
WTF?!
So it was Autumn, I do not remember when but I know it was cooler outside because I had already developed a more pure hatred for Greyskull, and had even come to hate the lunch meetings, which is strange because there was free food there and you could shoot me in the foot and hand me a sandwich and I would chalk the day up as a success.
I hated Greyskull at this point for a number of reasons, one of which was that she was apparently put on this Earth to annoy me, with the constant meetings in which she spent the first 2 or 3 minutes just looking at me with a smile on her face, trying to get me to giggle or lick the exercise ball she sat on or God knows what else. The meetings usually devolved into her pissing and moaning about how some unknown person told her I intimidated them, and how I need to try to be more approachable, and how she has the same problem because she is an imposing figure. Then they would get even worse, because for some reason she had a problem with me rolling my eyes and sitting with my arms crossed, saying it showed I was annoyed. SO I guess she was a good judge of character.
Anyway, it was at this particular manager's meeting that she announced the Derks was joining our completely demoralized, barely functioning team. Let me explain to you, gentle reader, what we devolved into: We began, upon my being hired, as a well oiled machine, gently pumping our technical knowledge into the soft, slightly freckled underbelly of the law firm, rhythmically slapping our fantastic customer service skills against the taint that is 95% of the lawyers in that building. Our old manager was hands off, and we liked it that way, preferring to kind of police ourselves, or more accurately attempt to withstand the constant barrage of insults from old man Lollipop, who was like that older brother who had a large nose and wore pink shirts: loveable, and a great technical mind (You like how I throw in a myriad of insults with my compliments? That technique was invented by me, yo). Anyway, Greyskull had turned our genuine love of working into a doldrums of terror, making it so no one wanted to show up, and when they did, no one wanted to work. Kind of like the Chiefs, with Greyskull being Herm Edwards.
So back to this meeting. Greyskull is standing there, droning on about communication skills and how it is more important to be nice to people than to have any technical knowledge, which we would later learn was a harbinger of doom, as these speeches led to the hiring of Flanders and Santa, and she dropped the bomb on us she had been hiding under her tight leather skirt like a midget who she sat on and got stuck in her love folds: She had hired someone without letting us meet, interview or berate, like we had all been during our hiring processes.
I began paying attention at this point, because it seemed so wrong for so many reasons. Who the hell was this skank this wildebeest had hired? Why was she being sat by me? Was it a test? a trial to see how much crap I would put up with before I quit and Greyskull won? And though she claimed Derks had worked at the law firm for years, why had I never seen her? Was it possible she was simply Greyskull, wearing a disguise in order to annoy me further?
Things got worse when I learned P-Mist was moving, breaking up our "Cube of Cool"...called that because we all just hung out and listened to Steely Dan all day, chillin like villains. Those were the times. I know Max misses Steely Dan. Soon after P-Mist moved, I saw all manner of what I call "Terrorist memorabilia" but you might call "wedding photos and a few throw pillows" going up. The stories flew about how everyone knew Derks was a tattletale, and would get me fired as soon as possible, and how we should all watch what we said around her, as she would tell management anything we did. Fuck that, Stevester is a man, not some petty little boy. I am going to ignore her completely and look at her crazy every time she attempted to initiate conversation with me, that's what I'll do to that poopyhead!
More later, I thought my Lilian scam was over but apparently it is not, she (he?) wrote last night to try to make me feel bad...
seriously, ya want one?
I've got 8 of them
The above haiku is beautiful poetry and also a plea for someone to take these little shits off of my hands. I mean, lovely perfectly mannered puppies.
WTF?!
So it was Autumn, I do not remember when but I know it was cooler outside because I had already developed a more pure hatred for Greyskull, and had even come to hate the lunch meetings, which is strange because there was free food there and you could shoot me in the foot and hand me a sandwich and I would chalk the day up as a success.
I hated Greyskull at this point for a number of reasons, one of which was that she was apparently put on this Earth to annoy me, with the constant meetings in which she spent the first 2 or 3 minutes just looking at me with a smile on her face, trying to get me to giggle or lick the exercise ball she sat on or God knows what else. The meetings usually devolved into her pissing and moaning about how some unknown person told her I intimidated them, and how I need to try to be more approachable, and how she has the same problem because she is an imposing figure. Then they would get even worse, because for some reason she had a problem with me rolling my eyes and sitting with my arms crossed, saying it showed I was annoyed. SO I guess she was a good judge of character.
Anyway, it was at this particular manager's meeting that she announced the Derks was joining our completely demoralized, barely functioning team. Let me explain to you, gentle reader, what we devolved into: We began, upon my being hired, as a well oiled machine, gently pumping our technical knowledge into the soft, slightly freckled underbelly of the law firm, rhythmically slapping our fantastic customer service skills against the taint that is 95% of the lawyers in that building. Our old manager was hands off, and we liked it that way, preferring to kind of police ourselves, or more accurately attempt to withstand the constant barrage of insults from old man Lollipop, who was like that older brother who had a large nose and wore pink shirts: loveable, and a great technical mind (You like how I throw in a myriad of insults with my compliments? That technique was invented by me, yo). Anyway, Greyskull had turned our genuine love of working into a doldrums of terror, making it so no one wanted to show up, and when they did, no one wanted to work. Kind of like the Chiefs, with Greyskull being Herm Edwards.
So back to this meeting. Greyskull is standing there, droning on about communication skills and how it is more important to be nice to people than to have any technical knowledge, which we would later learn was a harbinger of doom, as these speeches led to the hiring of Flanders and Santa, and she dropped the bomb on us she had been hiding under her tight leather skirt like a midget who she sat on and got stuck in her love folds: She had hired someone without letting us meet, interview or berate, like we had all been during our hiring processes.
I began paying attention at this point, because it seemed so wrong for so many reasons. Who the hell was this skank this wildebeest had hired? Why was she being sat by me? Was it a test? a trial to see how much crap I would put up with before I quit and Greyskull won? And though she claimed Derks had worked at the law firm for years, why had I never seen her? Was it possible she was simply Greyskull, wearing a disguise in order to annoy me further?
Things got worse when I learned P-Mist was moving, breaking up our "Cube of Cool"...called that because we all just hung out and listened to Steely Dan all day, chillin like villains. Those were the times. I know Max misses Steely Dan. Soon after P-Mist moved, I saw all manner of what I call "Terrorist memorabilia" but you might call "wedding photos and a few throw pillows" going up. The stories flew about how everyone knew Derks was a tattletale, and would get me fired as soon as possible, and how we should all watch what we said around her, as she would tell management anything we did. Fuck that, Stevester is a man, not some petty little boy. I am going to ignore her completely and look at her crazy every time she attempted to initiate conversation with me, that's what I'll do to that poopyhead!
More later, I thought my Lilian scam was over but apparently it is not, she (he?) wrote last night to try to make me feel bad...
Monday, January 7, 2008
Shorter post
Satellite boogers
evades the roaming finger
and shows ugly self
Heart attack update
So I do not think I am having a heart attack anymore, since it has been going on for almost a week off and on and I am no doctor (though I play one on TV) but I have never heard of a heart attack lasting a week. I thought back to some of the healthy meals I had eaten over the past few weeks and decided it was heartburn. I had never had it, just a sign that I am getting older, fatter and strangely sexier, what with my gray hair and penchant for snuggling.
Anyway, I tried to watch all 4 football games over the weekend, only missing the Giants and the Bucs, and how the hell is it that literally every team I wanted to win got their taints handed to them? It's as if God was sittin on his throne on Mount Olympus, gently masturbating whilst watching Smeagol perm his raptorpubes, and figured you know what? That asshole Stevester has not had enough shit tossed on him yet, let's pile this on and see what happens! Ugh the thought of Smeagol perming his pubes, then not washing his hands and touching things that I end up eating off of is making me sick.
JJ came by, and I dunno why I was surprised by it but he really did not have any time to visit, he just wanted to burn a couple of cds and then he left. I mean, why make a 20 mile trip in a car with a v8 that gets horrible gas mileage, just to burn cds and not to talk with your brother? It made me sad, but not as sad as all the spyware he installed did. No wonder he complains about his internets never working. I wish I knew Flanders' number, I would have JJ call him and get some technical support:
Flanders: "Skimmerrinkeedinkeedoo, Flanders here! I am way to busy to be taking this call. I am a giant douche who asks stupid questions!"
JJ: "Uhhhhh.....click"
AH, my imagination is a wild untamed beast. So I need to get another headlight for the 'scort, since the Ferrelview cop keeps driving by the car slowly and looking at the tags, which are expired by a month. I briefly entertained the idea of selling it to Smeagol, but the knowledge that he would never get it legal and somehow ruin my driving record was too much, plus I feel attached to the car. There's also the tiny thing about anything successful catching fire when coming into contact with Smeagol that is a problem.
More tomorrow.
evades the roaming finger
and shows ugly self
Heart attack update
So I do not think I am having a heart attack anymore, since it has been going on for almost a week off and on and I am no doctor (though I play one on TV) but I have never heard of a heart attack lasting a week. I thought back to some of the healthy meals I had eaten over the past few weeks and decided it was heartburn. I had never had it, just a sign that I am getting older, fatter and strangely sexier, what with my gray hair and penchant for snuggling.
Anyway, I tried to watch all 4 football games over the weekend, only missing the Giants and the Bucs, and how the hell is it that literally every team I wanted to win got their taints handed to them? It's as if God was sittin on his throne on Mount Olympus, gently masturbating whilst watching Smeagol perm his raptorpubes, and figured you know what? That asshole Stevester has not had enough shit tossed on him yet, let's pile this on and see what happens! Ugh the thought of Smeagol perming his pubes, then not washing his hands and touching things that I end up eating off of is making me sick.
JJ came by, and I dunno why I was surprised by it but he really did not have any time to visit, he just wanted to burn a couple of cds and then he left. I mean, why make a 20 mile trip in a car with a v8 that gets horrible gas mileage, just to burn cds and not to talk with your brother? It made me sad, but not as sad as all the spyware he installed did. No wonder he complains about his internets never working. I wish I knew Flanders' number, I would have JJ call him and get some technical support:
Flanders: "Skimmerrinkeedinkeedoo, Flanders here! I am way to busy to be taking this call. I am a giant douche who asks stupid questions!"
JJ: "Uhhhhh.....click"
AH, my imagination is a wild untamed beast. So I need to get another headlight for the 'scort, since the Ferrelview cop keeps driving by the car slowly and looking at the tags, which are expired by a month. I briefly entertained the idea of selling it to Smeagol, but the knowledge that he would never get it legal and somehow ruin my driving record was too much, plus I feel attached to the car. There's also the tiny thing about anything successful catching fire when coming into contact with Smeagol that is a problem.
More tomorrow.
Friday, January 4, 2008
Shorts
a gentle whisper
a smell that can melt cold steel
The essence of farts
Random Crap, and some fun time scams.
Am I the only one who gets joy out of driving past the drunks panhandling and fanning myself during the winter with dollar bills?
I think I have my t-shirt design done, and I enjoyed the poll in which you damn freeloaders decided that baring my family life is not enough and you must also have a free t-shirt to commemorate the hilarity. I think I am going to bust out with a few different designs, and since they are going to be free to my core audience I get to choose the design each person gets. Spoiler alert! One or more of you are going to get one with a green thong drawn on it!
I like how when the holidays are over my family completely disperses like there was a fire or something and it just got put out. I have not heard a word from anyone in my family since a few days before New Years, though they all said during the holidays we should get together more often. Smeagol is still nowhere to be found.
An update since I promised my wife: does anyone want a stinkin' ass puppy? They are about 5 weeks old, and they smell real bad, though I will maybe pour lemon juice or something on them before I bring them to you. Each one comes with one free bag of dog food!
So we have a family member, Garth (not his real name), and Garth is a total jerk to everyone because he thinks he is smarter than everyone else on the planet. Garth got decent grades in school, and scored pretty high up on the charts in math and science, and because of this and a reward or two for some of the crap he has done in those two subjects he now thinks he has to "talk slower so the rest of you can understand me". Garth is also a very big boy, to the tune of 450 pounds. That is all I am going to divulge because any more and people would try to narrow it down and who it really is is not the point of this tale.
I decided to try to be nice to Garth one time (yes I have known him forever but only tried to be nice to him once, sue me) and told him I was having some trouble with a math course (I wasn't) and it would be cool if he could help me out (it wouldn't), since math was his strong point. I expected him to be flattered and more than happy to help me out with my math, but instead he chortled "I would try to help but I may not be able to use enough lay terms for you to understand me, it takes a while to decipher the stuff I am saying into terms you can understand". And with that, he ate an entire cake while I sat there, stunned. What an asshole! I mean how can you be big, kinda dorky, and a total and complete asshole?! I had promised myself I would never insult him on my blog because the Lord has seen fit to insult him in so many other ways, but this is cause to take the gloves off.
This one time (at band camp) he came over to our house, and was complaining the whole time that the inside of our brand new fucking car stank to high heaven. Thank god my wife was driving and not me, because he would have been walking from that point on. It was bad enough, not to insult him, but his weight was having an adverse effect on my car's gas mileage, and if you had heard and felt the car protesting when he got in or out of it, you would know I was not lying. My car gets 19.5 miles to the gallon. When Garth got in, it dropped to 16-17, and that is terrible.
Anyway, he was talking about how maybe we needed to find out what the hell that smell was, and I am not sure how it ended, maybe my wife told him the smell was not there before he got into the car or he realized when his breath hit him (I have been there before, trust me it is a shocking moment when you realize that smell of butthole fungus is your stank ass breath), but at some point he asked her to spray him with some air freshener, and rubbed the little rearview freshener all in his armpits, prompting me to throw it away the next day. I mean, WTF man! You have to be pretty smelly when a car deoderizer cannot mask your funk, and then to have someone spray air freshener on you, man that has to suck!
On a completely unrelated note, I have done some things I was not proud of either. My first night really drinking, I managed to put down a fifth of vodka and a couple of beers and some wild turkey, and then ate a bunch of pizza, all of which came back up while I was trying to get out of the car, while I was still sitting in my in laws house, and later when I was trying to mount my wife, who was desperately trying to fight the brown bear with +2 vomit projectiles off of her. Good times, good times.
SCAM!
So I figured I would show a little more on the Arita Jack scam, if you will remember she was pregnant and going to kill herself and needed money for food and medicine but had enough cash to visit Internet cafes to post these crappy emails. *sigh *, do these scumbags never learn? Boy I hope not!
Re: OMG how can I help!
From: ARITA JACK (aritajack@yahoo.com)
Sent: Sat 11/03/07 11:23 AM
To: Semore Butts (semorebutts.ido@hotmail.com)
Hi,
How are you? i guess fine. Im very sick and that why you dont hear from me.Please i need urgent monies to help my self im dieng.Please help me.
Arita
Man she was in a rush when she sent this out, this will simply not do.
RE: OMG how can I help!
From: Semore Butts (semorebutts.ido@hotmail.com)
Sent: Sat 11/03/07 8:05 PM
To: ARITA JACK (aritajack@yahoo.com)
I would love to help you, how do I get the monies to you? I could also bring you to America, you could be my concubine who does anal when I need it, cause I need it often, a man of my girth... I guess I could poke your chocolate starfish then make you a sandwich, what do you think about this deal? So in conclusion I can think of 2 ways to help you:
1. I could bring you to America, disguise you as a carney, teach you the macarena and therefore got you past our strict immigration laws, especially the "No Carney left Behind" law enacted by George Bush. Then you could eat hot black tube steak as long as you give up butt pleasures.
2. I could fly to your country and give you 2000 dollars cash, of course still in exchange for the aforementioned butt pleasures, with jisms in your hair as well.
If you had something else in mind, let me know I would be happy to donate this 2000 dollars to get you on your feet. Also, would it be possible to get a picture of you? A buddy of mine, Jeremy, got scammed once and I want to make sure my money is going to a good cause, not one of those smelly Nigerian Negroids I see on the Discovery Channel but a true African ebony queef.
Until we speak again,
Semore Butts, attorney at Law at Putit, Inyer & Butts LLC
Yeah yeah I know, sometimes I go too far. But ya know, some scammers roll with it, and that makes it worthwhile to mess with these scammers all the time, to get gems like Benson Hunter, Lilian Ray, and Margaret Kumasi.
More Monday.
a smell that can melt cold steel
The essence of farts
Random Crap, and some fun time scams.
Am I the only one who gets joy out of driving past the drunks panhandling and fanning myself during the winter with dollar bills?
I think I have my t-shirt design done, and I enjoyed the poll in which you damn freeloaders decided that baring my family life is not enough and you must also have a free t-shirt to commemorate the hilarity. I think I am going to bust out with a few different designs, and since they are going to be free to my core audience I get to choose the design each person gets. Spoiler alert! One or more of you are going to get one with a green thong drawn on it!
I like how when the holidays are over my family completely disperses like there was a fire or something and it just got put out. I have not heard a word from anyone in my family since a few days before New Years, though they all said during the holidays we should get together more often. Smeagol is still nowhere to be found.
An update since I promised my wife: does anyone want a stinkin' ass puppy? They are about 5 weeks old, and they smell real bad, though I will maybe pour lemon juice or something on them before I bring them to you. Each one comes with one free bag of dog food!
So we have a family member, Garth (not his real name), and Garth is a total jerk to everyone because he thinks he is smarter than everyone else on the planet. Garth got decent grades in school, and scored pretty high up on the charts in math and science, and because of this and a reward or two for some of the crap he has done in those two subjects he now thinks he has to "talk slower so the rest of you can understand me". Garth is also a very big boy, to the tune of 450 pounds. That is all I am going to divulge because any more and people would try to narrow it down and who it really is is not the point of this tale.
I decided to try to be nice to Garth one time (yes I have known him forever but only tried to be nice to him once, sue me) and told him I was having some trouble with a math course (I wasn't) and it would be cool if he could help me out (it wouldn't), since math was his strong point. I expected him to be flattered and more than happy to help me out with my math, but instead he chortled "I would try to help but I may not be able to use enough lay terms for you to understand me, it takes a while to decipher the stuff I am saying into terms you can understand". And with that, he ate an entire cake while I sat there, stunned. What an asshole! I mean how can you be big, kinda dorky, and a total and complete asshole?! I had promised myself I would never insult him on my blog because the Lord has seen fit to insult him in so many other ways, but this is cause to take the gloves off.
This one time (at band camp) he came over to our house, and was complaining the whole time that the inside of our brand new fucking car stank to high heaven. Thank god my wife was driving and not me, because he would have been walking from that point on. It was bad enough, not to insult him, but his weight was having an adverse effect on my car's gas mileage, and if you had heard and felt the car protesting when he got in or out of it, you would know I was not lying. My car gets 19.5 miles to the gallon. When Garth got in, it dropped to 16-17, and that is terrible.
Anyway, he was talking about how maybe we needed to find out what the hell that smell was, and I am not sure how it ended, maybe my wife told him the smell was not there before he got into the car or he realized when his breath hit him (I have been there before, trust me it is a shocking moment when you realize that smell of butthole fungus is your stank ass breath), but at some point he asked her to spray him with some air freshener, and rubbed the little rearview freshener all in his armpits, prompting me to throw it away the next day. I mean, WTF man! You have to be pretty smelly when a car deoderizer cannot mask your funk, and then to have someone spray air freshener on you, man that has to suck!
On a completely unrelated note, I have done some things I was not proud of either. My first night really drinking, I managed to put down a fifth of vodka and a couple of beers and some wild turkey, and then ate a bunch of pizza, all of which came back up while I was trying to get out of the car, while I was still sitting in my in laws house, and later when I was trying to mount my wife, who was desperately trying to fight the brown bear with +2 vomit projectiles off of her. Good times, good times.
SCAM!
So I figured I would show a little more on the Arita Jack scam, if you will remember she was pregnant and going to kill herself and needed money for food and medicine but had enough cash to visit Internet cafes to post these crappy emails. *sigh *, do these scumbags never learn? Boy I hope not!
Re: OMG how can I help!
From: ARITA JACK (aritajack@yahoo.com)
Sent: Sat 11/03/07 11:23 AM
To: Semore Butts (semorebutts.ido@hotmail.com)
Hi,
How are you? i guess fine. Im very sick and that why you dont hear from me.Please i need urgent monies to help my self im dieng.Please help me.
Arita
Man she was in a rush when she sent this out, this will simply not do.
RE: OMG how can I help!
From: Semore Butts (semorebutts.ido@hotmail.com)
Sent: Sat 11/03/07 8:05 PM
To: ARITA JACK (aritajack@yahoo.com)
I would love to help you, how do I get the monies to you? I could also bring you to America, you could be my concubine who does anal when I need it, cause I need it often, a man of my girth... I guess I could poke your chocolate starfish then make you a sandwich, what do you think about this deal? So in conclusion I can think of 2 ways to help you:
1. I could bring you to America, disguise you as a carney, teach you the macarena and therefore got you past our strict immigration laws, especially the "No Carney left Behind" law enacted by George Bush. Then you could eat hot black tube steak as long as you give up butt pleasures.
2. I could fly to your country and give you 2000 dollars cash, of course still in exchange for the aforementioned butt pleasures, with jisms in your hair as well.
If you had something else in mind, let me know I would be happy to donate this 2000 dollars to get you on your feet. Also, would it be possible to get a picture of you? A buddy of mine, Jeremy, got scammed once and I want to make sure my money is going to a good cause, not one of those smelly Nigerian Negroids I see on the Discovery Channel but a true African ebony queef.
Until we speak again,
Semore Butts, attorney at Law at Putit, Inyer & Butts LLC
Yeah yeah I know, sometimes I go too far. But ya know, some scammers roll with it, and that makes it worthwhile to mess with these scammers all the time, to get gems like Benson Hunter, Lilian Ray, and Margaret Kumasi.
More Monday.
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