— Hells no. In fact, he’s really in my doghouse right now (literally; I’ve got the opening shored up with an ironing board and some gorilla glue). And that’s because yesterday the little panzer rat nearly got me into deep shit with the feds by getting himself sloppy drunk on Jack and Gingers, then tried to hire an FBI agent posing as a computer hacker to break in and steal
armadillo
September 28, 2012
You know, it’s Friday, and it’s been a very tough week for you and us both, emotionally speaking, so if ever there was a time for a little, you know, dancing —
July 19, 2012
Friday. Right?
Don’t even think about it. Ever since the Roberts ruling, the little armored bastard’s been pulling tax revenue from local hookers for the various things they refuse to do. His best yet? Was when he got this one spackle-faced trollop to refund him all his around the world money — plus throw in her last pack of Virginia Slim menthols — after he informed her that her refusal to dress
November 19, 2010
It's Friday, Jeff, and we thought that given the new site modifications, perhaps you could put in a word —
Well, you all thought wrong. Not only will the little bastard not dance — but he’s refusing even to get up out of the Barcalounger until (and I’m paraphrasing here) someone explains to him why it’s perfectly fine to get your squeakhole bleached, but get caught one time watching “Night Rider” while squatting on a traffic cone, and suddenly the invitations to poker night with the fellas dry right up.
May 14, 2010
It's Friday, Jeff. And considering how we've weathered a week of technical talk about signs and signifiers and such, we thought maybe —
— yeah, well, you thought wrong. Seems having your shell “bedazzled” is not only surprisingly expensive, but it requires that you lie mostly still and belly down for a couple three hours even after leaving the salon. So not only did I spend the better part of the evening spoonfeeding the bastard his DQ Butterfinger Blizzard, but I did it while watching red white and blue-colored rhinestones harden into an
May 14, 2010
It’s Friday, Jeff. And considering how we’ve weathered a week of technical talk about signs and signifiers and such, we thought maybe —
— yeah, well, you thought wrong. Seems having your shell “bedazzled” is not only surprisingly expensive, but it requires that you lie mostly still and belly down for a couple three hours even after leaving the salon. So not only did I spend the better part of the evening spoonfeeding the bastard his DQ Butterfinger Blizzard, but I did it while watching red white and blue-colored rhinestones harden into an
April 30, 2010
Hiya, big guy! We were just wondering, this being Friday and all, if maybe —
— Sorry, not this weekend, guys. Seems when somebody heard about the new Arizona border security law he saw a niche market opening for a “coyote pimp hand” and off he went, forty bucks, snakeskin boots, and a jar of Spanish fly tucked in an old bedroll. I still don’t know what a coyote pimp hand is exactly — the little fellow was in such a hurry to bum a
April 2, 2010
You know what day it is, right? Howsabout you trot the little guy out and let him do his thing —
Well, I would if I could. But the truth is, he took off about three days ago with the twenty bucks I gave him for his old Gibson acoustic and a ratty rucksack stuffed with cheese sandwiches and port wine. Heading off to find himself a Tea Party protest, he told me. — Not that he cares much about smaller government, mind you. Just that he’s “always wanted to bang
March 26, 2010
Hey! It just occurred to us that this is Friday — and now that you’re back at least semi-regularly, is there any chance — ?
— No. But don’t blame me. After all, I’m not the one who brewed several pots of tea from a handful of Elephant Creeper seeds, then spent the next thirty-six hours fighting off “the army of the House of Kal?kaua” with a semi-hardon for a sword and a slice of bologna for a shield. And yes, the little fucker will be paying me back for the “pillaging” he did to