Riding in car with Elvis.
~Only the Robot~
-Rachel L. Moore
Captivating hills.
Fun with a mirror.
Living the high life.
It is mine!
New Strokes video up for Reptilia. It's pretty cool. But I still think grandpa could have made a better one. Check it out.
the blunts...
How to Raise a Jeu Jeu Baby
I regreted it the minute I held it, but there i stood, wearing the same dirty sweater and holding a jeu jeu baby in my hands with no way of returning it (everyone knows jeu jeu baby sales are final). They're not hard to raise at all; they eat old shoestrings and toenail clippings and their feces smells like cake mix so it's no big deal where they shit. They can even be a little cute at certains stages in their life. The one I owned had orange and white stripes and a fluffy tail that felt like cotton candy. He looked at me with his swirly eyes all the time waiting for me to give him some toenails which he would snort through his rectangular nose. I named him Wallace and sometimes I would take pictures of him blowing bubbles through his eyes or licking the back of his head. I owned him for a while and everything was fine; my house smelled of cake mix and my toenails were always trimmed. But all of a sudden the most unpleasant thing began to happen, my jeu jeu baby began to talk. He talked and talked and he never shut up. Stupid words at first, incoherent stuff, but then comments and useless information. Once, he asked me for Zurdo. I told him he had moved to New York with his brand new wife and dreams of becoming an artist. He accepted the answer. All day and all night he talked, and most of the time he didn't care whether i was listening or not. I couldn't take it anymore so one day i strangled him. I choked him until he was lifeless and couldn't talk anymore. Then I buried his body in the back yard and planted poppies over him. I went inside to shower and i never thought about him again.
These broads act like everything I say is gonna damage the world. "Don't say that!" "History is cool." I didn't even bag on history. why the fuck do you enjoy twisting my words around? Sometimes they can be downright bitches. Come into the room impersonating natural disasters and think it's a blast, but one of them has a headache and you can't talk to them. One just lies there in her bed all day doing nothing while the other smokes her life away and talks shit about everything, which is apparantly better than playing videogames. It's funny though, i picture me on television saying this exact same shit to some interviewer while the girls are next to be questioned. I talk shit about them and talk about all this crazy shit we did back in the day and how sometimes i couldn't stand them. but it's alright. They don't care at all because that's just how we are. and that's why we are where we are. but in my fantasy i have a british accent sometimes. I suppose that's just a sign of how romanticized it is.
Max, Max, with an axe,
Eyes all bloody mouth full of tacks.
Chop, Chop, all night long,
Big ol' sideburns and a song.
Cut, Cut, out your gut,
Make you dance head full of smut.
Max, Max under a hood,
Nice young fella, misunderstood.
-Edgar A. Poe
Another day, another site. This one has wonderful gore and the occasional incest - we're all extremely nonchalant about it. There's no real purpose to this site except to please the masses and maybe even spark a few legitimately confused faces which then turn into a sort of mild laughter; the kind you experience when not wanting to laugh at a funny joke delivered by someone you hate. Well, enjoy the erratic shit that's to come. Godspeed.