—Yeah, about that. Seems the little bastard hacked his way into my PayPal account, helped himself to a couple three hundred dollars, then—while I was out rolling hobos for loose change—he ordered in some Thai food, a pair of co-ed “escorts,” and drilled his way through the liquor cabinet lock with my DeWalt cordless.
When I finally made it home (with $14.33 in change and a half bottle of ungodly cherry brandy), I found my TV and stereo gone, and the stupid armored road rat rattling around in the Kenmore, stoned and smiling like a frat boy with a brand new stash of Roofies—a clump of pad thai noodles and at least one spring roll stuffed in places not meant for such erotic sequesterings.
Worse, though—he finished off an entire bottle of Gran Patrón after having snorting what looks like several lines of Kosher rock salt off the CD changer using the rolled up insert to my Karate Kid DVD.
Which, that’s the last time I lend him my “Girls Gone Wild” tapes, you can bet your ass on that.
Looks like you need to adjust that % on your sticky post.
Why anyone would give money to someone as irresponsible as you beats me.
Good luck with your blegging.
So that’s where that donation went …
By the way, tonight’s Scotch is Glenfarclas 12-year-old Speyside. Oak, some sherry, and a faint hint of peat.
Supple, almost. Like a young hamster who frolics through woodchips.
Peat.
Boggy, then.
I’m guessing ‘dillos don’t like bogs.
So…uh…you gonna drink that…um…cherry brandy?
I’m not askin‘; I’m just askin’.
Like a young hamster who frolics through woodchips.
All right that’s it. No more posts about Coulter, Sullivan, Greenwald or Sanchez for at least a week.
What I want is an armadillo t-shirt made of a hemp-cotton blend. For reals. The little guy is so ripe for exploitation. Is that wrong? … and check out the hoodies… you’d want to find somewhere else to order – these people seem to have a bad attitude – I almost got the apple thing from Cafe Press btw, but I decided not to cause I’m not sure I really get it in a feeling it kind of way.
Ah, the apple. I used to converse with it.
Must bring him back. Thanks for reminding me.
Nice – I think that was before I started coming by –
At the end of the commercials, where it’s just a voiced-over hot pink still with the logo and address and shit, to this day, there’s tiny type that says OR VHS hidden in there. It pleases me unduly.
Will it make my water softener less ferkakte? Will it carve commandments in my sidewalk while it melts the ice?
Sigh. Another Friday comes and goes and a certain PiL song comes to mind yet again.
So sad.
Well, if it’s any consolation, I hear the little fella singing some Beastie Boys in the shower.
It’s hard not to dance when you’re belting out “Paul Revere”…
Well, isn’t that what friends are for?