small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: <strong>sweatin the small stuff</strong>

Friday, February 4

sweatin the small stuff


Sorry, I'm in the street today so I had to call this one in. So here's some more blogquotes from the archives.

---I was watching Kelly Osborne's video and is it me or does she look like a small version of Devine? I'm not being rough on her cause I know that she'll blossom as she gets older plus I think her mom's hot in a English ho kind of way. Can't you just imagine Sharon Osborne sayin
"ello Gov'na, ten quid for a poke at me
ole bum hole, eh"?

---Not a damn thing wrong with being smart. It’s sexy, it’ll save your life, and you’ll know which end of the fuckin apple to eat first. But just don’t let it go to your head.

---The guy’s little kid wondered into the john to take a piss when suddenly he came running out screaming and crying. “daddy , daddy it hurt my face!” the guy freaked and ran into the bathroom. Me and the bartender just sat there, we knew what was up. Daddy comes running out all red faced, grabs Junior and hits the door. Yup, the smell was that bad. I hear tell that there’s some bathrooms in Ireland that look worse but still smell better.

---He told me later that she was a regular on the block and her name was Kitkat. Why Kitkat I asked, he told me it was because her tongue was sandpapery like a cats. I was to later find out that it was raspy like a cat’s tongue, but that’s another story.

---and I don’t know about other cities but here in Kansas City the hookers had a hard time dealing with rejection. You’d be in the car driving past two or three standing on the curb and one of em would holler out, “hey, you wanna date”? And after hearing no it’ll change to “why the fuck not”, and half the time the bitch would start running after your fuckin car.

---As I’m typing this I just got word that one of my coworkers had to call in absent today because of a Christmas death in the family. It seems that she had purchased her young child a puppy for Christmas. As the family ate Christmas dinner the puppy was leashed to the Christmas tree. Somehow the puppy climbed on some boxes and jumped off, hanging himself in the process. How fuckin tragic. What a fucked up Christmas for some young kid to remember.
“Mommy! Mommy! You got me a puppy, I’m gonna hug it and I’m gonna love it, and I’m gonna…what? Puppy’s dead?”
That kid just lost all love for Santa. Word.

---Pretty soon it was down to just a couple of women standing toe to toe bitch-slappin each back and forth. It was the tall Mexican chick and this huge black chick. After about five minutes of back and forth the tall Mexican chick screamed somethin in Spanish and doubled her hands up and just clocked the black chick between the eye’s and down the chick went.

---I’m now officially old enough to be somebody’s daddy. But please, let’s leave well enough alone. God forbid some young nubile honey comes up to me at the Cane one day and says, “hi daddy”. And as I look her over she says,
“hi Daddy, as in Mom says I need to look you up”
Talk about your fuckin Kodak moment.

---You know what? I admire the Japanese culture. I admire the fact that even after we bombed them back to the Stone Age they came back to win the war on a different front. There’s not an American home that’s not stuffed to the rafters with their electronics, and you can’t drive across the street without seeing one of their cars. When it comes to Godzilla or bondage films they rock, but when it comes to making straight porn they suck. It was like watchin two kittens fuck.

---Now unbeknownst to most of you, I can be smoother then baby oil on a strippers ass when I want to be. I’m like a cheap four bit cologne to some women. They dig the smell but wouldn’t get caught dead rubbing their fingers in it.

---I was at the post office this morning and ran into a cat from the old neighborhood, “So, how’s a muthafucker doin”? “You know, same old shit. I’m sending out a bunch of Fathers Day cards bulk mail, I figure if I mail the old neighborhood hard enough I’ll hit my “real” father sooner or later”. Poor “bastard”, every year the same thing. I wish em luck.

---As I look out the window I spy a dog across the street as it stops to lick and smell a dead squirrel in the middle of the street. The squirrel’s beyond caring as its little bulged out eyes stare back at the dog licking its dead face. I pause in my self pity long enough to wonder what the little squirrel’s last thoughts might have been as the car tire’s pressed down on it’s small furry body. Did it feel pain, or maybe a vague unease it couldn’t identify.

---This little car drove out into the middle of the ring and out crawled half a dozen clowns. Magic? I don’t think so. Changing the law of physics? I don’t think so. Satan is what I think. Clowns are the minions of the hell master himself. Doubt me? Take a close look at one. Big bulging eyes and faces the color of flour. Most have frizzy hair of varying color and these giant red lips with a perpetual grin pasted on their faces. Scary things to look at. Always with the juggling and hidden flowers.

---Another night of weird dreams, this one involved Brittany Spears. We spent many a night curled up in our PJ’s watching Buffy, me with my head layin across her firmly muscled six-pack. Yes she did do a thousand sit-up’s every morning, then as we’d make with the sweet lovin she’d scream, “daddy, hit me baby, one more time! Or I’d be takin a hot shower and she would fling aside the shower curtain and say, “oops, I did it again”. The dream ended with me about to pull the mask off the counterfeiting mastermind and reveal to the world that it was really old man Patterson who owned the old mill down by the river when I morphed dreams and found myself kickin the high yella crap out of Michael Jackson.

---I was gonna dress up for Halloween this year but I couldn’t fit into the giant chicken suit I tried on so fuck it. Plus I’m so sure if I did wear it I’d look around and see four or five other idiots wearin the same thing and then I’d be pissed. Also its hard to get your groove-on wearin a chicken suit, it’s a beak thing. Damn, look at me. I’m just a rambling tool ain’t I?
"and the monkey flipped the switch"

1 Comments:

Blogger me said...

You crack my shit straight up Greg, lmao....Satanic clowns, dead squirrels, Sharon takin it up the ole pooper and hangin puppies. Always a good read!

9:28 PM  

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