the Oh-zone: October 2007

andnowawordfromoursponsor

the shitstain on the oblongata metamorphasized into carnivorous cavities perplexing the prepubescently peniled person who continued sodomizing the weak willed willing woman as she hunted the magic weiners in the land of forgotten mysticals

AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN

what wondrous wonderful jigglebunnies who pertain to the prepubescent penile papillon turning yellow and gold with caramel underwreathings of particular pleasantness emitting salivating odors of perfunctory passion

AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN

if only the magical mystics could manage to moleculize the meandering moments of myth and translate the jargonious underwritings of said prepubescent penile person who received a subpoena whilst making love to the senilic sasquatch of planet plutonious

AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN

what odors emitted from the salivating salamander as orgasmic olfactory odoriferous stenches permeated through the buxomous blondies angora like sweater

AND THEN AND THEN SHE THEN

be not afraid of the magical mummies, for magical mummies only haunt the hauntable horndogs of halloween

AND THEN SHE THEN WE THEN

blissfully carmelic skin with ashiness overflowing, blissfully bouyant bubbles bobbling brilliantly on her breasts

AND THEN WE THEN GO THEN

oh yes... oh yes... oh yes...

OH YES OH YES AND THEN

and then.

AND THEN

and then.

AND THEN

and then.

AND THEN

yes then

weekend over

Welcome to Southern California

if you're [un]fortunate enough to have regular employment during the business hours of monday thru friday, you either die a lot or a little each day. if you hate your job, you die a lot. if you love your job... you still die a little.

it's called traffic, and no matter where you live you can expect to die at least two hours a day from it. one hour getting there, one hour getting back. hey, an hour of driving to and from work isn't that bad, you say. WELL FUCK U SHMUCKO.

it's not that you're driving an hour here and an hour there, it's that you only live about twenty actual minutes from your job but you creep and crawl through traffic for an hour. it's like imagining you're gonna walk to your kitchen, but you're only allowed to do it half a step at a time, and you gotta wait five minutes before you can take the next step.

seriously, what the fuck is it with southern california congestion? i don't understand why more people don't snap and pull a martin lawrence. if i hated my job, i probably would have done it within the first week. my job is kinda cool so i'll probably end up doing it around the sixth.

don't get me started on surface streets, either. every jackhole on the freeway thinks they can circumvent traffic by taking those duplicitous side streets. think again. like i said, every jackhole on the freeway is now on those side streets thinking that same stupid thought you just did. what you end up with is a city street full of jackholes like you.

and what's up with weaving through traffic? yeah, YOU asshole, the motherfucker who weaves in and out of traffic like getting there seventeen seconds before i do is gonna amount to a shit of difference. congratulations bucko, you just killed twice as much gas as i did playing frogger on the freeway when we both took the same route getting there.

do i sound angry? good. because i was totally faking it. traffic really isn't that bad.

And his rage blazes forth like fire...

the sky is gray and dull with ash. the air stinks of burning ember. the congestion of bodies staring upwards in awe. the evil hyenas howling with glee. california is burning. better repent if you've been norty.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071022/ap_on_re_us/california_wildfires

WHERE MY EGGS, BITCH?!

TWO SPACES AFTER A PERIOD.REFRAIN FROM USE OF SEMI-COLON.REFRAIN FROM USING THE PASSIVE VOICE.REVISE SENTENCE FOR VERB FORM.ADD ADJECTIVES.NO SPACES BEFORE THE BRACKET CLOSE.USE COMMAS CORRECTLY.SENTENCE FRAGMENT.RUN ON SENTENCES.DONT ADD WORDS.DONT ADD CREATIVITY.MAKE IT SOUND PROFESSIONAL.TECHNICAL GRAMMAR.THIS VERB DOESN’T BELONG HERE.WHAT THE FUCK IS A PREPOSITION.THE ADVERB SHOULD GO AFTER THE NOUN.OR DOES THE NOUN GO AFTER THE ADVERB.DONT USE THE PASSIVE VOICE.FUCK YOU.FUCK YOU.FUCK YOU.DONT JUMP FROM FIRST PERSON.NARRATIVE.NARRATIVE.NARRATIVE.ARE YOU COMPREHENDING.DO YOU UNDERSTAND.IS THIS CORRECT.CAN I GET A WITNESS.DEATH TO THE ART.DEATH TO THE PLEASURE.DEATH TO THE EYES.DEATH TO THE VADER.

Rowf

They showed that goddamn Benji movie on T.V. again. I couldn't help but watch it. This time... I even taped it. I've developed an unhealthy fascination with Benji.

http://imdb.com/title/tt0092638/usercomments-12

benji will fuck you up.

bitch!

@@@@ YOU BENJI

am i a fag.
there was a movie on t.v. today.
it was Benji: The Hunted.
i found it really moving.
am i a fag.
that dog can really act.
am i a fag.
there were some scenes in there
some scenes that were really moving
am i a fag.
it was really sad.
benji was lost in the woods.
he saw a lioness die, then found her cubs.
are they called "cubs?"
am i a fag?
anyway he decided to take care of them.
instead of finding his way back home.
he did some incredibly dedicated shit.
benjiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!!
am i a fag
he carried them up a hill.
one of them died, it got carried off by an eagle.
was it an eagle?
am i a fag?
and then at the end benji died.
just kidding no he didn't.
that would've been sad.
i would've cried.
more, i mean.
am i a fag

Dearest Theo,

man i had the greatest fucking saturday. it started as any good day would-- waking up whenever the fuck i felt like it. from then it progressed into more chillitutude. got picked up by the homie and had lunch at in-n-out. from there it progressed(or degressed?) into chilling outside, smoking and squawking. after that, destination: the coffee shop. after some maxed relaxing there, it was back home to slump out in front of the t.v. to watch some college football. throw in some ufc fighting and a good meal and it was more than enough.
but there was more.
excursion back out into the night.
destination: bookstore cafe with the homie. i spent two hours reading graphic novels and perusing the humor section. goddamn, the onion is funny. yeah, i laughed out loud. free readage = mad glad chill. after smoking a few butts it was off to the diner. the service was bad, the food was unhealthy, the decor is god awful, and the bathroom is vile.
i love the diner.
back home now. completely sober, completely early, and completely satisfied.
simplicity = brilliance.
quality nights in beat quantity nights out any day.
er, i mean night.

TURKEY SAMMICHES

went to the coffee shop today. it was cool, they were having a kids singing and performing night. it was good to actually witness something nice and pure instead of the same old dirty adult life of alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, sex, perversion, debauchery, bondage chains, whips, ball-gag face masks, buttplugs, anal beads, nipple clamps, midget prostitutes, ass paddles, vomit stains, colostomy bags, amputee strippers, bloody condoms, browned tampons, homeless degenerates, wealthy degenerates, facial scars, feces-stained underwear, fecal matter smeared on the walls, puss-filled pimples, scat-stained faces, topless overweight homeless women, sweat-stained t-shirts, random tufts of pubic hair...

what the fuck was i talking about again?

oh yeah, kids.

can't stand 'em.

the golden age.

i made love to an old woman today.
well, she wasn't that old. she was only eighty-seven.
i met her at a bake sale.
i don't normally go to bake sales, but today i went in hopes of finding an old woman to make love to.
so anyway, i managed to convince her her car was broken and offered to give her a ride home.
i never said who's home.
as soon as we pulled up she recognized that my home was not hers.
i managed to convince her her alzheimer's was kicking in and managed to talk her into coming inside for a glass of milk.
milk deters alzheimer's, by the way, or at least that's what i told her.
once inside i immediately began tearing away at her sundress.
she didn't put up much of a fight, which is how i knew she wanted it.
i pulled off her sundress and was slightly put off by the sight of her Depends undergarments but that didn't stop me. i stopped to ask her if her plumbing still worked and she said she didn't know, that her landlord took care of that.
anyway, i asked her when the last time she got some "good lovin'" was and she asked me what year this was.
she said the last time she got laid it was interrupted by war sirens.
anyway, we made love under the sycamore tree(or at least that's what i told her my halogen light was) and once i was done i was surprised to hear her still moaning.
she told me i had broken her hip during our ordeal and i apologized. i asked her if i was too rough and she said no, but that i should not have incorporated a baseball bat.
i apologized and began to dress her.
i asked her where she lived and if she wanted a ride back.
she said she didn't know, that her alzheimer's was kicking in.
i told her she could stay at my place, but that in about twenty minutes i would start to feel an animalistic urge for round two and round two always means one thing for me: extra violence and kinky!
she immediately ran out the door but i managed to chase her down and tackle her at the mailbox.
i told her that playing hard to get really turned me on and she began to say something but accidentally spat out her dentures. i said i found that really hot and that at that moment i wanted nothing more than to feel her "gum" my genitals.
how was your day.