We have to say, "Where the fuck is Jenny?" Because Boobarella and Wingal be doing all kinds of crazy shit, and she ain't here. Dude... Southwest... "DING! You are now free to move about the country... bitch." This posting is a team effort.
So, Boobarella likes teenage boys. Two rounds of "Dream Phone," and she got both Jamal and Spencer. Wingal is pissed, as all she's gotten is a glass of water with a strawberry in it and a dog shart. Thank you, Fezzi.
Isn't Bruce dreamy? In a 12-year-old-in-the-closet kind of way?
We went to a wedding in Grand Rapids. Had a better chance with the young studs of "Dream Phone," though they were about the same age as the guests at the wedding. Never been to a wedding before where we didn't know half the music. The highlight was when the Mother of the Bride asked the bride and bridesmaids: "Who's THAT slut?" No, not us. For a change.
Then we drove back on 94W to Chicago. Construction of the sort that caused severe ass vibration... Fo' Real. About 10 miles of it, that culminated in orgasmic screams of joy when the construction ceased to be. No, seriously. Instead of a satisfying cigarette, a Donette. Chocolate variety. Eaten whole. Just like my last date. Said Boobarella. Whose husband is in England. I told you she was popular with the prepubescent boys. Yeeeee-ah, bitch.
There were excretions.
And puddings. And wine. And more wine. All that's left is gin. And 1/8 of tequila. Mixed: Tequila No-Sunrise.
Tomorrow we're going to see another prepubescent boy. A dead one. Tut. Funky Tut.
And she'll get him too. *SIGH*
2 comments:
I can't believe...many things. But primarily I can't believe I missed all the Dream Phone fun and the puddings!
They missed you, too.
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