Which is Less Awesome

Who lives in a cucumber under the lake? Loofah Robert Rectangle Britches!!!

or

Adolescent deformed karate tortoises, adolescent deformed karate tortoises, adolescent deformed karate tortoises.... champions in a 50% protective layer, TORTOISE MIGHT!!!

The Charges Were Dropped!

that's right... ALL charges were dropped. I am so pleased to announce that every single charge that I incurred last month was dropped like a slippery baby. public nudity while intoxicated on a suspended fishing license; dropped. engaging in suspicious activity and selling harvested organs without a propper permit; dropped. kicking a cop in the love stones without a warning; dropped. taking out my illegal weapon and discharging it into a sleeping person; dropped. flinging a potato into the river after stealing it from a produce tent after urinating on the whole stack of potatoes after robbing a convenience store; dropped. and finally, yearning to modify an electronic traffic sign without adequate creative insight; dropped.

iTouched

14 Steps to Get Rich Quick!

Step 1: Steal ALL your boss's underwear.
Step 2: Embroider "Bat Cave" on back of EVERY pair.
Step 3: VERY IMPORTANT: Return ALL underwear to boss.
Step 4: Buy a mini Batman costume.
Step 5: Bake cupcakes
Step 5: Dress up your wiener with Batman costume.
Step 6: Take a picture with your naked testicles on the cupcakes.
Step 7: Give cupcakes to boss.
Step 8: Call police.
Step 9: After boss eats all of the cupcakes, reveal picture of testicles in cupcakes.
Step 10: Get ass kicked. (Wait for police)
Step 11: After police arrive, explain to them how your enemy threatened to fire you if you didn't "dip Batman in frosting and put in Bat Cave". Explain how much you needed this job. Explain how you just couldn't go through with it and your boss beat the shit out of you.
Step 12: Drop pants and show proof.
Step 13: When boss denies story, convince police to have boss drop pants.
Step 14: Collect money.

I didn't know that!

Here are a few fun facts that I didn't know... but now I do know... and so will you:

Each year 2 million Americans become robots, but nearly 66% of these new robots can not eat metal, shoot lasers out of their eyes, or even reassemble themselves after a nuclear disaster.

Plants such as Guerrilla Corn, Tree-taters, Ruby Plum-tards, and Huckle-Bob-berry t'maiters, are genetically programmed to poison you if you insult NASCAR, inbreeding, or alcohol abuse problems.

Dogs are twice as likely to eat your brains when they are zombies as opposed to when they are just regular dogs who just so happen to enjoy eating brains.

Jesse Crust, the Sailor, is not myth. He is a metaphor.

In the year 2057 people will have more time to exercise but less time to free base... creating a huge conflict of interest.

Crazy coked-up zombie dogs are 3 times more likely to eat your brains than sleepy 3-legged zombie dogs.

Analogies are like trees... except they don't have branches, roots, or trunks made of wood... or leaves

A frying pan is the perfect tool for someone looking to collect several herbs and spices, smash a bird on the head, and fry up the bird's unborn children. But it is not the perfect tool for a blind person to powder your nuts with.

Zombie dogs who are experts in Persuasive Public Speaking Techniques and who have completed certification classes in Presentation Visuals are 4 times more likely to eat your brains then zombie dogs who specialize in Underwater Welding.

Lizards who have fur, big bushy ears, and rat tails are apparently called moles.

Bonus Fact: The Flavored Pickle rage of the 1980s was actually created on purpose... however the best-selling Flavored Pickle, Sweet Blueberry n' Tobasco Dill Explosion, actually tasted more like a piece of pickled horse shit.

Another Person Consumes the Dirt

This poem is actually a list. But this list is arranged in such a way that it provides the deepest satisfaction of brain hunger to the reader. You don't even need to prepare yourself, because it works better if you have no clue what you are about to read. Even as I write this introduction I do not own any previous knowledge of what I am about to write. I couldn't even tell you if this list contains profane language, species of birds, types of brined vegetables, or even Hall of Famers from the NFL. So with out any further ado, here is the list... of... words that will change your life and make you smarter... and help attack gingivitis... without any pain... or messy clean-up. Enjoy.

1. Reds
2. Sales Adventures: The Money Never Lies... or Talks for that Matter
3. Sofa King Cool
4. derelict
5. Watch Big Trouble in Little China then tell me you don't believe in God.
6. pickles
7. "Take it to the sky, you crazy doo doo! Take it to Jesus!"
8. I will never eat warm horse shit... after 9am
9. Where do jimmy jams come from?
10. ambi-what-now?
11. Attack Mode
12. "Tickle yourself you god damn gorilla!"
13. The Red-tailed Hawk, the Californian Condor and Sanchez.
14. "Gravy? That's not gravy, my friend. THAT is a fuckin' human being, man."
15. Keep on, keep on, keep on moving through the village of despair with your hands in the air.
16. ;)
17. Lynn Swan, Steve Largent, and eventually the great Andre Reed.
18. Never underestimate a black bear in heat.
19. Crumb Donuts.
20. ephervessantlessly
21. Bring in the anti-depressants and bring out the box of hand grenades.

Water Melancholy

I guess it is time for me to start feeling sorry for myself again... so here goes nothing. Well, looks like being voted most popular isn't going to cheer me up. Nor is the fact that I am so incredibly good looking that random people around the city constantly ask me if I am a full-time model... or at least an action hero... or some kind of sexual chef. I don't even think that the 50,000 friends I have on myspace, who are always leaving me comments about how much they miss me and love me (and other things too), will help me feel less cheerless. My gorgeous hairdo can't save me now... neither will my outgoing personality... or my golden silverish bronzie skin tone... which is all natural I might add. Speaking of all natural, my naturally good smelling body smell doesn't seem to be helping out much either. I don't even think that my naturally tight muscular body and naturally throbbing huge junk can make me feel any better. Even though I am currently thinking about all the people that wanted to do me in high school... and all the teachers too... and rodeo goers... I still can't seem to muster up a smile or a happy thought or a boner. I think I will start crying. I don't even want to think about how nimble my fingers are... sure they could give pleasure to lightning bolt babes and spider monkeys and blurry kung fu moves, but they can't tickle my weeping blue soul or sobbing self esteem. Even though my jumping ability is so enormous that I could easily propel myself along with several of my sporting trophies and pageant medallions into the heavens, it can't propel the sadness out of my butt hole. Don't try and tell me how much fun I am and how much beer I can drink and how much high-fivin' I can do... I just want to wallow in my self-deprecating horribly gloomy grief. Why must such an incredible smile go to waste? Why does such a perfect jaw line end up being ignored by the grin that decorates it so well? Why do the eyes of the beholder miss out on the sharp attractiveness of the smirk which sailed a thousand sailors to war? Why do so many people call me up and try to hang out with me? Why do all these people invite me to lunch all the time? Why do people feel the urge to text me just to let me know how special I am to their hearts? I dunno... but I do know one thing... this sorrowful little dude can't stand the unjoy any longer. Thank you for all of the warm tinglies I know you all are sending my way. There are probably a lot since I have so many friends. So... happy new year.

Who opened up the party behaviouré?

*Warning: this love poem contains explicit lyrics not suitable for humanity.

Cale opened it, you phunkin' pumpkin phuckin' phool! I am going to hollah at you, coming straight out of Compton... make that Hampton... the Hampton Inn... I work right next door, you phizzled phark ballers! Man, I got so many words that I need to say to explain how much I love you, you piss-poor phrick nickel station. Darn! Darn the Man! The Man is holding back my plan to show the glory of my ultimate love for you, you tickle herdin' phergie dork sausage. Ahhhh! My undying, endless, boundless, fearless, timeless love for you urges me to pour my soul into a vase and ship it, by DHL, to your heart, you dumb bastardly phuck head. I heart you, you vomit spark of a turd n' pickle sandwich. My love for you has no equal and I want to bake you a cake to show how hard my love is for you covered in fudge chocolate frosting, you ergonomically ass-kick-to-the-groin doo doo basket. I wish I knew how to change the oil in your car, 'cause I would replace it with my love juice of all flavors and combinations... and textures, you living, breathing shit-for-brains. I will treat you to a night of pleasure unlike any night of pleasure a smurf-killer has ever heard... full of good ideas, ping pong and roast beef, you phreak nipple-eating prankster. I love you more than the really big words that I have made up, more than rocks, more than a bowl full of wheat, more than a bird foot... you stupid ass, (crying) You stupid section of phukeroni pie... phuckin' phuck burger... (angerily) You phuck phart!

I love you.