ELEVEN+

what's louder than ten, mutha-uckas?!
yep.
eleven.
what's better than that?
eleven plus.
that's correct, my ninjas.
all the way past ten,
and then maybe a little tiny bit beyond that, too.
i hope you ninjas can appreciate the irony:
fresh new vanity hottness,
old busted vehicle.
i'm rockin' the 'up-here' style, i guess;
it's a redneck version of 'hood livin',
like 22" rims on a '94 corsica....
ouch.
bittersweet, yo.
defined.


totoro.
that dude is my neighbor.
if you don't know,
you'd really better find out.
right now.
i mean it.
stop reading, don't wait for netflix, go find it, buy it, love it.
immediately.
i'm pretty sure that when i get my 'princess bride' tattoo,
jess will be following that with a totoro one of her own....
an early valentine's treats for my talented, terrific, top-notch teetotaling teammate.
my conjugal co-captain,
my carnal cohort,
my corporeal consort.
my sweetheart, yo.
the most beautifullest thing in the world.
just like that;
.........
(and if you know keith murray, you already know what's up)

friday the 13th,
part eleven.
because apparently the first ten,
and that fight over on elm st. weren't enough, i guess.
rather appropriately, it starts today.
ridiculous.
let me guess:
crystal lake. machete. hockey mask.
chop + head + naked boobs = #1 blockbuster weekend.
there's a crystal lake up here,
hmmmmm, i wonder....
maybe i'll wait around tonight for a good ol' fashioned axe-chop face stab!
OR,
i'll drive to the lame do-gooder puritan turd expanses of 'assachussetts,
and pick up my little seedlings for a vacation valhalla in the woodsly goodness.....
a whole week of excellence, kids.
comin' right up.
never quiet, never soft...