Thursday, June 30, 2005

Charcoal King and Mind Boobies.

I am so Free-Ur-Charcoal-King-ed.

Don't know what that means?

Boys and girls, allow me to enlighten your Do-Ur-Mind-Boobies asses. It's very simple. Just take the first letter of each word and put them together.


Maybe you have figured it out on your own. If you did, please feel free to tell me how big of a loser and jackass I am.

At this point, I don't know if you're still interested in knowing why I'm Free-Ur-Charcoal-King-ed, but I'm gonna tell you anyway. However, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you read can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an interpreter present during any reading. If you cannot afford an interpreter, then you should be looking at porn sites.

In conclusion, I have long forgotten my point. Moving on...

I went to the gas station to get gas for my ass. My ass likes to fart, but lately he's been complaining that he's not getting enough gas. You should've seen him at the gas station. Boy, let me tell you, my ass can fart like there's no tomorrow.

Okay, seriously.

I went to the gas station for the last time. As you might not have known, I'm getting rid of my car. Long story. I'll tell you next time. So I was at the gas station, getting all choked up thinking about all the good times me and my piece-of-shit-plastic-and-aluminium-box-on-wheel been together. You have no idea how hard it is to cry and fart at the same time. Luckily I've had intense professional training in that department. So I managed to pull it off deadly and gracefully.

After the gas station, I went to Hell on Earth, aka DMV. And I was wondering...

- Is it just me, or when you see paramedics pushing a gurney in your general direction, you should've moved your fat ass to the side before said gurney bumped into said fat ass?

- Is it just me, or when you're pushing a gurney to, I don't know, say, SAVE A PERSON'S LIFE, you should be hurry instead of sauntering nonchalantly?

"Oh what? Somebody's having a seizure? But I just lit this cigaratte. Tell him to chill out for another 5 minutes, will ya? I'll be right with him. Thanks."

I've always thought it should've been like this:

"Oh shit! Somebody's having a seizure? I'm almost done dropping the kids off. Looks like I'm gonna have to take care of these dingleberries in the ambulance. Alright people, LET'S GO!"

Guess I was wrong.

- Is it just me, or when you know that your belly is bigger than a woman pregnant with triplets, you should wear a shirt that is big enough to cover the entire said belly, instead of wearing a shirt that would proudly show off your belly hairs? Just a thought.

Oh I remember now! I'm so Free-Ur-Charcoal-King-ed because I have a midterm tomorrow and I'm about 7 days behind on the reading, and instead of reading, I'm here writing about farting and dingleberries.

I love summer. It makes you not care about anything.