Nonculture

500ml+ of rum imbibed…check!

Coherence…largely absent, error!

Alert, or something!

Like the crazy computer talk above, this blog has gone downhill over the past year, if that is possible.  This is mainly because I have moved to the suburbs, and has nothing to do with my disinterest in “blogging” with any kind of coherent mind.  Let me explain, and then likely ramble, because I’m only 40% coherent. But, I assure you, that should be plenty, just ignore what you know about percentages.  Also let me assure you that I am lying about that percentage.

In the suburbs, your house is 7 feet away from your neighbor’s house on either side.  Your back porch has a “lake view” obstructed by your asshole neighbor’s trees on one side, and the back porch of a house occupied by renters who don’t do shit but blast Latino techno (yes there is such a thing, as I have found out), play beer pong, and try to hit on girls that are dumber than your pets, and not necessarily much hotter.  If you are attracted to animals, I mean.  And if you are attracted to animals, always use peanut butter; it’s the safest way to get action.  But I digress.

On top of that, you have no real front yard except some trees and some grass for general pain in the ass maintenance purposes.  Making the front look nice makes people believe the inside and the rear are nice; like when fat girls have pretty faces.  The face has potential for at least a good blowjob, but when the clothes start coming off…well, y’know.  You keep going, and just don’t tell anybody.  But with houses that’s not a good idea.

Let me say at this here juncture, this is the last I have to say about houses, house maintenance, landscaping, and hopefully, fat girls.  No offense, fat girls. I’ve been there (meaning on a waterbed with you after too many – and the memories are interesting), and yes it is true that you will do absolutely anything, which is endearing to both my cock and my memories.  But, oh look, it’s late and I need to get home to my undisclosed location.  Yes, I’ll call you, promise!

Like I said, it’s on.  What that means, I think, is that I am now going to produce, and possibly at a rate that defies whatever it is that I originally thought needed some defying.  That might be the fact that my blog was boring.  So, I’m going to fight that with more of the same, which may or most likely will not help anything.

So, since the last house hunting post I have bought a house and spent goddamn untold amounts of time fixing it up.  I’ve also bought a car that has modern type conveniences like windows that seal, A/C, seats that move, and shit like that.  So, basically, I’m mackin’ up in this bitch, with my house in the borderline ghetto and a 7 year old  car.  Don’t  be jealous; if we all work hard, we can achieve the same things.  Or we can sling crack and have 09 Benz’s and a crew beneath us we have to manage, y’know, it’s all about choice.  Whichever way you want to roll; the results are the same, just slightly different.

So, I’ve cut down on the drinking.  Well, c’mon, obviously not tonight, but y’know, overall.  That’s a good thing.  The not-making-sense thing is that I now live in the goddamn boring ass ‘burbs – who the fuck has fun out here?  The only people I see having fun are the pre-college bitches who live across the way and have conversations that make me laugh on their cell phones on their back porches.  

So, yeah, I’m trapped in the ‘burbs.  I’m trying to find more humor in that, but instead find myself focusing on the airplaines flying overhead and whatever is on TV.  TV usually has some kind of cooking show that is a repeat of some other similary named show, sports event that is predetermined by the bookies, or news that is pre-screened by a panel of those who deem themselves above us. 

Or whatever, I don’t even know what that shit up there says.

I’m too drunk to even find a good tittie picture for right here, oh well.

lord jebus

http://www.boingboing.net/2009/05/05/your-blog-is-a-weapo.html#comments

Now that Blogs are officially a weapon, it’s worth me resurrecting this shit and keeping it up.  Ok then, we’re back!  I’ve had half a bottle of sake and 4 rum and cokes and it took me 6 mintues to type these few sentences…yep, we’re back!

Oh, and look, it’s Jebus, or something!  He loveded tiny baby lambs and BBQ’d them, I mean, c’mon, those things are fucking tasty as hell BBQ’d.  Maybe he didn’t, because they represented him, I don’t know, but what I do know is that Captain Morgan is not from Endor, and if Cap’n Morgan isn’t from Endor, and is a wookie, and therefore not an ewok, you must acquit.

The rules of life are simple.