(no subject)
I got in a bit of a fight this morning:
Andrew: Go away popsicle.
Popsicle: But I don't want to!
Andrew: Don't make me get the hairdryer.
Popsicle: Well, I have been getting a few split ends at the back...
Andrew: I'll show you split ends!!!
It ended in tears, and a sticky puddle on the floor.
Speaking of tears, I have a story to tell you.
Story
Once upon a time, at around impaled fishbones O'clock, Johnathan the stick of butter began playing demolition chess with an irritable jack-in-the-box. However, this was soon to change, as one blue moon later, my gnostic beetle ranch began inseminating a tampon field (which was fertilized with joy earlier that day). That reminded Jimmy the Nicely Waxed Anus that there are pants in my coattail, so he told a rebellious S to stay out from under the porch. The conversation went sort of like this:
Jimmy the Nicely Waxed Anus: Your fishnets are NOT a diplomat, Machiavelli! It must've been so ironic when Machiavelli taught his dog to play dead. That's why we'll all be Caspar, minus the Cas, making me about average in golf. Rubiks cubes are horny. RUN AWAY SHOEFLY!!! Oedepus...is covered in Zimbabwe. Get that tire out of your lymph nodes! I've got no more spoon-swallowers in my basement, you've no right to start a jam band with Eliza the Hornet. Or a peanut butter one. THE BAD PUNS ARE COMING TO EAT US!!! Show off your chickpeas, it's not like you'll ever have them again, strawberry-farmer. So enjoy, hopping toads! Smile! You've got prison rape. I'm not a Mexican zipper, contrary to popular belief. Play all the records you have! And all the ones you don't have! Then milk Chewbacca, he's getting a little bloated. Are you an infinite tower of ties? THEN GET OUT FROM UNDER THE DESK!!!! Alright, that was over-the-top, but you'd cry too if it happened to you. Well colour me Jesus, I've got a woody! Show me cash money, I bling with my hos. I'd like to hire a ho to tend my garden. Japan can go back up my sleeve where it came from, objects are like women to me. A CD case can only have as many children as Wal-Mart can eat. By the bowels of Mario Lemieux, walls are practically the only thing they don't sell there. "OH! Wal-mart! You work hard for you money, so we're gonna rip you off!" Anime conventions of a feather flock together. Fruit-basket, fruit-basket, make me a fiddle, I've fighting with a shaver, and my teeth are a riddle. The shoreline is getting angry, tell the abstract concepts to bask somewhere else. I'm not filling my teeth with racial slurs again, plasma TVs have too much love to give. When two rakes make love, unlucky melodies bring us under the ocean. Oooh! Great pick-up line: "I'm a witty observation! Were you also raised by a yew tree?" The ladies will flock to you like not funny to The Red Green Show. Oh no! Pants! If you rearranged all the letters in the post office, you'd get stop! off the ice! I shop at The Gap, my brain can relate to it. GOD! Everytime I give you a box of shit, you just have to play frisbee, don't you? It's big, and it's made of the decaying remnants of Nebulon 5! What more could you possibly want? My penis is learning the ways of Kabbalah.
Rebellious S: Mine too.
THE END
For those of you who didn't catch it:
Moral of the story: Never read anything Andrew writes, ever)
Isn't Pantytec the most awesome name for a band ever? It makes me think of gigantic Japanese robots taking over the world by firing used schoolgirl undies at the last remnants of humanity. Or maybe an enormous, futuristic dildo that autosodomizes its enemies to death. I think I'm going to name one of my kids Pantytec.
Love you Lisa!
Andrew: Go away popsicle.
Popsicle: But I don't want to!
Andrew: Don't make me get the hairdryer.
Popsicle: Well, I have been getting a few split ends at the back...
Andrew: I'll show you split ends!!!
It ended in tears, and a sticky puddle on the floor.
Speaking of tears, I have a story to tell you.
Story
Once upon a time, at around impaled fishbones O'clock, Johnathan the stick of butter began playing demolition chess with an irritable jack-in-the-box. However, this was soon to change, as one blue moon later, my gnostic beetle ranch began inseminating a tampon field (which was fertilized with joy earlier that day). That reminded Jimmy the Nicely Waxed Anus that there are pants in my coattail, so he told a rebellious S to stay out from under the porch. The conversation went sort of like this:
Jimmy the Nicely Waxed Anus: Your fishnets are NOT a diplomat, Machiavelli! It must've been so ironic when Machiavelli taught his dog to play dead. That's why we'll all be Caspar, minus the Cas, making me about average in golf. Rubiks cubes are horny. RUN AWAY SHOEFLY!!! Oedepus...is covered in Zimbabwe. Get that tire out of your lymph nodes! I've got no more spoon-swallowers in my basement, you've no right to start a jam band with Eliza the Hornet. Or a peanut butter one. THE BAD PUNS ARE COMING TO EAT US!!! Show off your chickpeas, it's not like you'll ever have them again, strawberry-farmer. So enjoy, hopping toads! Smile! You've got prison rape. I'm not a Mexican zipper, contrary to popular belief. Play all the records you have! And all the ones you don't have! Then milk Chewbacca, he's getting a little bloated. Are you an infinite tower of ties? THEN GET OUT FROM UNDER THE DESK!!!! Alright, that was over-the-top, but you'd cry too if it happened to you. Well colour me Jesus, I've got a woody! Show me cash money, I bling with my hos. I'd like to hire a ho to tend my garden. Japan can go back up my sleeve where it came from, objects are like women to me. A CD case can only have as many children as Wal-Mart can eat. By the bowels of Mario Lemieux, walls are practically the only thing they don't sell there. "OH! Wal-mart! You work hard for you money, so we're gonna rip you off!" Anime conventions of a feather flock together. Fruit-basket, fruit-basket, make me a fiddle, I've fighting with a shaver, and my teeth are a riddle. The shoreline is getting angry, tell the abstract concepts to bask somewhere else. I'm not filling my teeth with racial slurs again, plasma TVs have too much love to give. When two rakes make love, unlucky melodies bring us under the ocean. Oooh! Great pick-up line: "I'm a witty observation! Were you also raised by a yew tree?" The ladies will flock to you like not funny to The Red Green Show. Oh no! Pants! If you rearranged all the letters in the post office, you'd get stop! off the ice! I shop at The Gap, my brain can relate to it. GOD! Everytime I give you a box of shit, you just have to play frisbee, don't you? It's big, and it's made of the decaying remnants of Nebulon 5! What more could you possibly want? My penis is learning the ways of Kabbalah.
Rebellious S: Mine too.
THE END
For those of you who didn't catch it:
Moral of the story: Never read anything Andrew writes, ever)
Isn't Pantytec the most awesome name for a band ever? It makes me think of gigantic Japanese robots taking over the world by firing used schoolgirl undies at the last remnants of humanity. Or maybe an enormous, futuristic dildo that autosodomizes its enemies to death. I think I'm going to name one of my kids Pantytec.
Love you Lisa!