Monday, November 27, 2006
I am going to refrain from...
telling you about how freaaaking hot it's getting over here as I wouldn't want youse to be jealous of our 39 degree [about 100 F] Spring weather. Yeah riiight...as if you could be jealous of your butt crack being a hothouse for growing stuff. I'd consider buying that kiddies pool to wallow in but I am afraid it might just draw in the snakes like Sally’s pond did last Summer.
Whoa me I finally made it to the red zone in Literati...I know this won’t interest you but fuck yers I’m good dudes! Really. Really. Good. Yes, yes we won’t mention how long it took me to get there or that I’ll probably not last in that zone for long. Heh. Oh well gives me something to aim for.
I dunno, lately, my idea of a fun time is to burp and fart at the same time.
Heh. The Super Squirrel [SS] brother in law is persona-non-grata [for those that don’t speak Latin he fooked up big time and everybody hates him and wants to poke him with sharp implements until he bleeds...well okay, maybe they don't hate him exactly] in the Hillbillie household at the moment. He had his bags packed and told not to come inside the homestead and especially not near the Little Fat Bastid. And rightly so. I won’t go into what he did but lets say it could
have jeopardised not only my immigration but also with the ripple effect on other family members lives he could have caused a truckload of problems. Instead it backfired on his sloppy arse. Stoopid SS, he had it soo bloody good too. Now he is living down in his trailer without bathing facilities or heat. But. Oh well. Might make him pull his finger out and do the things to it that should have been done
years ago instead of playing at being a pretend fireman etc.
Now don’t get me wrong here...volunteer “whatevers” do a heap of good, over here in the bush most emergency services are coordinated and acted upon by volunteers...but you gotta laugh at someone attending the scene of an accident and hitching up his dud’s that phones, yes plural, keys and various other important wanky looking stuff hang from and ask the paid professionals what the details are and how they are “handling” it. Wouldn’t you just want to slap him about the head and body with a frozen tuna.
Ohhh is that a breeze I’m feeling or did I just sit on a bottom burp and it fanned it’s way up.
Labels: Family and Assorted Fucktards, Toejam
Posted by apositivepessimist ::
12:08 am ::
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