LIMP WRISTED MONSOON

Rauan Klassnik interviewed me about pit bulls. You can read it at HTMLG.

DROWNING IN A POOL OF MY OWN SEMEN SEEMS LIKE A BETTER FATE THAN TALKING ABOUT POLITICS

I could swear there is someone somewhere watching me. Through the wind and the chill and the rain and the storm and the flood.

BLOWING KISSES AT THE BACK OF YOUR STUPID FUCKING HEAD

Pictures of artwork currently on display in my apartment (partial):

AT NIGHT THE STREETS OF LOS ANGELES LOOK LIKE FLOWING LAVA WHEN VIEWED FROM A CERTAIN DISTANCE

There's a 99.9% chance that you're a privileged, white asshole if you own golf clubs.

MY BRAIN IS A MAGNET FOR SUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND NUDE PICTURES OF ROSEANNE BARR

THE AMERICAN FLAG IS THE SWASTIKA OF THE 21ST CENTURY

Every time I hear that bitch-made Gotye song I inherently imagine a rotating kaleidoscope of colors, inside the colors are these two heads which orbit around each other: one growing larger as the other grows smaller; and the one head looks like a cherub with an Adolf Hitler haircut, comical rose-colored cheeks, with a facial expression which connotes inexperience and weakness--a pedophile's wet dream!--and the other face looks like an anorexic bearded lady wearing a moronic yellow beanie, each hair on his/her face finely manicured, not a scratch or a scar or even a small piece of dirt anywhere to be found, almost as if he/she has never lived life outside of his/her parent's bedroom.

It makes me laugh like the way a serial killer day dreams while eating his final meal 30 minutes prior to walking down a hallway to an execution chamber.

And people always give me a strange look because it seems like I'm being insane.

But, really, I'm just subconsciously acknowledging limp wristed shit hearts for what they are.

SOMEONE WAS JUST STABBED OUTSIDE MY APARTMENT OR THE ARMOS ARE YELLING AT EACH OTHER AGAIN

Space Jam is the Bedknobs and Broomsticks of your generation.  Stop talking about it like it's fucking cool.

FAG HAMMER

A rotating helicopter blade made out of fun noodles where my cock is supposed to be.

I SPEND MY SATURDAYS AT THE POOL CATALOGING NIPPLE FORMATIONS

The closest thing to being dead in a coffin is lying in an mri tube.

You're just there, with your thoughts, unmoving, snug.

Everything is white.

Wind constantly blowing over you.

So it feels like you're flying/levitating.

And there's these really scary noises.

As if you're trapped in a game of Zaxxon.

And the spaceship is going down.

MY DICK IS A FIRE TRUCK IN PERPETUAL DISREPAIR

Trying to determine which is potentially funnier/more pathetic: two young men or two older women who don't get laid talking about whatever lame shit those types talk about.

Guys, seriously, it was fun.

A PAIR OF TITTIES HOLDING A PAIR OF SLIGHTLY SMALLER TITTIES UNDERNEATH A WATERFALL OF SMILING CHODES

America should change the flag to an image of a cat's asshole sitting in a high chair being spoon fed portions of a big mac by a fedora wearing tampon.

Or just a giant thumbs down pinwheel.

UPDATE:

Spent 10 minutes on this post, re: CHOAD vs CHODE.

FURTHER UPDATE:

While writing the previous update I could hear one of my neighbors puking, but, instead of the normal, aggressive gag-lurch noise, it was dramatically long, almost as if the person was masturbating while doing it, like, almost as if the puke was being drawn out to the point of perverse enjoyment.

TERTIARY UPDATE:

The puking was genderless.  Meaning, i'm unsure if I can use it for spank bank material.

LEGALLY CHANGING MY NAME TO CUNNILINGUS THE MIGHTY IN THE NEAR FUTURE

Someone outside of my apartment right now just made a noise that sounded like Sylvester Stallone in Rocky when he yells "Aye-dreee-unnnn!" except it came out more like "ungh-ehhhh-ATE-mmmmmmuuuuuh-seeeeeee-fffffffff!"

Raised my fist as a show of solidarity after hearing it.

Hey, does anyone have access to a woman's hot-dog-on-a-stick uniform? Could you give it to me?

Keep having this reoccurring fantasy which involves that uniform, 34 corn dogs, a shitton of mustard, small/perky tits and my cock.

Trying to make it a reality.

I can pay you in stolen key chains that have the word Hollywood on them.

Or hash cookies.

Most people have the personality of a television.

YOUNG BUTTER