small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber
I can truthfully say that I do this Blog for me. Because late at night when I’m reading what I wrote earlier that day, even I don’t understand at times what the hell I meant. So if you’re reading something and a general feeling of fuckedupness comes over you, take a few sips of cold water and put your head between your legs. Or breath into a goddamn brown bag for all I care, but the feeling will go away. Trust me on that.
This is the end result of imbibing too much Jim Beam, getting drunk and hugging all the white folk. The cat holding me up is my old pal Rusty, from “Planet Rusty”, which can be found on my links. He was out celebrating his new gig as an on the air DJ and as it sometimes happens when two men get together. Shit got carried away.
"and the monkey flipped the switch"
posted by Greg Beck at Friday, September 03, 2004
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4 Comments:
Greg.. your hands are as big as Rusty's whole head.
I'm not even gonna go into the perverse and twisted places that one thought leads me..
go ahead, go
Oh-and I saw a commercial tonight for a movie I know you'll just love: Shaun Of The Dead.. it's a zombie comedy.. I busted out laughing and thought of you instantly..! Have a great week-I'll be back next Thursday night..
Love
Satyavati :)
Oh-and I saw a commercial tonight for a movie I know you'll just love: Shaun Of The Dead.. it's a zombie comedy.. I busted out laughing and thought of you instantly..! Have a great week-I'll be back next Thursday night..
Love
Satyavati :)
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