YO' MAMA.

happy day to all y'all muthas out there.
enjoy your sh!tty brunch,
and that cheap card from your rotten kid.
word up.
*
there is no such thing as enough.
i mean,
the object is more, obviously.
today,
it's all about more motorcycle-inspired tattoos.
as if one wasn't too many.
ummmmmmmm.
it's happening.
so is, i assume,
the much-belated MAYDAY parade.
awwwwwwwwwww.
i'm zip-zappin' some crap,
and my peoples from far off spots
are gonna enjoy a tasty batch of crusty,
busted, and disgusting stink-stilt walkers,
and vegan barbecue.
times are tough,
styles are hard,
and missing out seems to be the unifying theme.
put that in your mother's day mimosa
and drown some sorrows, suckas.
yuck-hole explosions forever.
*
in other news, from other places,
i played real-life scrabble last night.
uh-huh.
with actual human interactive contact,
and wooden tiles,
no autocorrect,
and the original point assignments.
needless to say,
i lost.
damn your eyes, one-point letters!!!
ugh-
my words-with-friends-savvy electro-game folks
complained about how high-pressurized reality scrabble is.
y'know?
oh, don't worry,
they both also played robot pretend scrabble in-between turns.
yuuuuuuuup
...i'm serious.
really realness attenuation sensations?
i think so, neighbors.
i mean,
i touched, spelled, added, scored, and all that,
in 360-degree super-high definition fourth dimensional
tangible temporal nutritional participatory true time,
and i even had a decent time finishing in last place.
on the ones,
it didn't seem like sh!t-salad to me, kids.
but then again,
i appreciate the touchables in this world.
i've got words, y'all,
but no friends;
never quiet, never soft.....82