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—An enormous quantity of hot dogs being crammed into my mouth over nineties dance hit classics. “This dog has SNAP!”, that’s one of my slogans, if any company wants to use it they should contact me directly.
—Proposed comic for KetaMan: The World’s Crappiest Superhero left crumpled in ball on nightstand. These moments will be lost in time… like small baggies in the rain…
—A stadium crowd doing ‘the Wave’ and the last one pulls all the rest into a mass grave (domino effect).
—A man showing up with piping hot pizza and it’s good and I’m happy (Dominos effect).
—US snowboarder Sage Kotsenburg may have wowed crowds at Sochi Olympics, but the rowdy blond hunk’s music knowledge still leaves much to be desired. His Korn mixtape is literally just radio rips from the late nineties. You can even hear his mom screaming in the background. Step up your game, Sage.
—Teen beans; beans for Teens. Lots of beans for my mean teen. Ungrateful YA not DTB. Miss the innocence of childhood; beans by the ream for this beantot. Just eat a bunch of ’em.
—Incredulous reactions on train re: complete lack of shoes, ‘Hurrr wer ur shews, duhh I got mine’. It’s like… what? Pause your objections as I reveal exalted objects of natural transit to aghast ridership. Ya’ll need to man up #beautifulfeet
—Because I saw Beyoncé at a show by the NYC waterfront once and she actively, legitimately stank, now impossible to assume that she doesn’t always stink. A real shame, otherwise a class act.
—My only current terrorist demands are:
1. A role in every (read: EVERY) film for Cedric the Entertainer
2. A reward from the president for the above demand
—Wanna see a dead body? *opens closet to reveal I don’t own creepers, is immediately unfollowed by every nugoth tumblr* *looks in mirror* Aha…
—Ancient anime cave paintings reveal cause of mass extinction to be preference for dubs rather than subs. Never forget…
—New meme for 2014: treepunk. Punk for trees, basically, punk’s not dead it’s just releasing hell of carbon for your lungs. Sun’s rays keeping me strong and healthy, present my inner growth rings so you can check if my moisture levels are adequate. Also good excuse to downplay dog-pee smell and my skin sloughing condition (dropping cool leaves or acorns maybe? Use your imagination).
—Hologram musician market never really took off following legendary Tupac concert. Ian Curtis hologram just sits there grunting & crying ethereal tears, refuses to play hits. Falco forming and reforming in mirror when I’m not looking, also has unusual number of Illuminati tattoos. NOT a satisfied customer.
—McGruff and Smokey the Bear burn in hell while Spuds McKenzie pounds cool brews with bodacious babes in paradise. Spuds would never sip, he’s a straight chugger, like all true party animals. But he’s a little dog. That’s why he died. RIP beerdog.
—Actually, now wondering if celebrating heavenly hound with drinking is in bad taste since that’s his COD. Might be kinder to pour one out…
—Just saw Missy Elliot run by outside screaming and flailing arms like Kermit from the Muppets. Much respect. Legendary singer.
—Flex4TheCure charity was meant to save lives. Glutes and abs now so ripped, swole beyond all logic, that I’m lying on gym mats with torn-up holes which can’t be told apart without using geography. Reps remain at comfortable three hours, however.
—The Chubby Manson. Marilyn Manson Ate My Balls webring. ♪It’s time for cake and also cake♫
—Pack of rappers with IRL names like Corey and Chad. Ironi-Screw group The Rap Guys. “I love sizzurup, WUTANG” scream Three-Pube Mafia. My own rap persona is a beautifully muscled and extremely sexual Englishman named Hot Toddy. Maybe you’ll meet him one day. Do you remember when music was good?
—Felt like Snoop had too many cornrows on my HD; adjusted contrast and now he has too few?? Fuck my life.
—Teal plaid? Reverse cowhide? Hanky codes got weird but at least I always know the Hank Hill code: “Clean burning fuel at a reasonable price”.
—HERE COMES THE DROP! Leper Skrillex: *nose falls off*
—Keep running into wall screaming “OH YEAH” but it just won’t break. Hurting myself faster than I can possibly heal. Think I got some bad advice.
—Some bullshit about the nineties. Primus?? Toad the Wet Sprocket?!? Crazy time indeed. “My name is mmud”, hahaha. Fucked up. You remember that time? Think about it, then come here in twenty years so we can talk about the present.
—I found it on datpiff. Stop interrupting the rap tracks to ask me that. I’m not your son.
SIDE-NOTES FROM GRANDMA’S TRIP:
—Busty thrills, but not how/when I wanted. We just came in for a coffee. More alarmed than aroused, cortado ‘just okay’. Yelp will hear of this.
—Walking Grandma to car and we saw a dog with weird eyes, like a goat’s eyes. Hope I don’t get in trouble for this but I probably will.
—Tried to show Nana’s friends a David Bowie record but I started thinking about his face and constantly referred to him as ‘David Mummy’ instead. Feel guilty for scaring these old women. I didn’t mean for this to happen.⁓
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