(no subject)
Eenie meenie miney moe, here's old Larry again, takin' a crap. Howdy, howdy, howdy, and all that ol' dumpascrump. Weeeeeeelll, I've been waitin a long time to sit down and plop out a few mounds of that Tennessee Carolina Kentucky shit I been known for - jus' bout two hours since I last sat down at the pooper - but I'll tell you what it's been even longer since I sat mah fat ass down and wrote. Now, I know what you're thinkin - ooool Larry, you gone soft on us! And truf be told I been eatin lots o grape nuts these days, so between you and me you're goddamn right cuz ahm a-poopin' practly faster then I eat.
Sooooooo, anyways, Sammy the Soaring Steelhead and I was talkin' in between those dirty blues licks we was playin' that musta probaly been better conversation that what we was sayin' out of our mouths, but regardless either way you look at it, turns out ol' Sammy's gettin himself hitched to a goddamn cat. That's right as day, Tat on bass, Sammy on drums, mah buddy Cisco on electric bass, and ol' Larry on that jazz/blues sax/trumpet. Oh, and Tat and Sammy's gettin married. Now, I'll tell you one thing an it's that the older you get, the smellier you shit. An that's the truth, but Sammy ain't hearin' none of it and he's just about to sign his life away in jus about the same time it takes ol' Larry to leave the scene of the crime with mah evidence cloggin' the crap-pot and my fat ol' nasty lobster ass shakin' mah fat ol' nasty lobster tailfeathers outta there. So, needless to say, I've never been one for commitment, 'cept if you count the time I waddled drunk and desperate to Las Vegas and married ooooool' Liza Minelli for just about long enough to get some money outta court for my favorite hat. Come to think about it, I still have that hat. Oh, and I crapped in her house, too, with one of those toilets that blows hot water up your butthole so you don't offend Sammy and Tat when you show up their porch butt-Lobster naked cuz you been kicked outta the house for smellin like just about Satan himself took a fat smelly dump, and then that dump was you.
Sooooooo, anyways, ahm gettin old, into those double digits soon enough, and I don't even want to start thinkin about babies. And on that note, I best be waddlin' off, so ah'll tell you one thing, beboppa scrumpadump doodlyboppa you betta think twice before your sign your crusty ol' ass off to some goddamn drum playin' raggedy ol' cat, talent or no talent, cuz once you take a poop, you ain't never gonna see that same poop comin' out your butthole again.
Sooooooo, anyways, Sammy the Soaring Steelhead and I was talkin' in between those dirty blues licks we was playin' that musta probaly been better conversation that what we was sayin' out of our mouths, but regardless either way you look at it, turns out ol' Sammy's gettin himself hitched to a goddamn cat. That's right as day, Tat on bass, Sammy on drums, mah buddy Cisco on electric bass, and ol' Larry on that jazz/blues sax/trumpet. Oh, and Tat and Sammy's gettin married. Now, I'll tell you one thing an it's that the older you get, the smellier you shit. An that's the truth, but Sammy ain't hearin' none of it and he's just about to sign his life away in jus about the same time it takes ol' Larry to leave the scene of the crime with mah evidence cloggin' the crap-pot and my fat ol' nasty lobster ass shakin' mah fat ol' nasty lobster tailfeathers outta there. So, needless to say, I've never been one for commitment, 'cept if you count the time I waddled drunk and desperate to Las Vegas and married ooooool' Liza Minelli for just about long enough to get some money outta court for my favorite hat. Come to think about it, I still have that hat. Oh, and I crapped in her house, too, with one of those toilets that blows hot water up your butthole so you don't offend Sammy and Tat when you show up their porch butt-Lobster naked cuz you been kicked outta the house for smellin like just about Satan himself took a fat smelly dump, and then that dump was you.
Sooooooo, anyways, ahm gettin old, into those double digits soon enough, and I don't even want to start thinkin about babies. And on that note, I best be waddlin' off, so ah'll tell you one thing, beboppa scrumpadump doodlyboppa you betta think twice before your sign your crusty ol' ass off to some goddamn drum playin' raggedy ol' cat, talent or no talent, cuz once you take a poop, you ain't never gonna see that same poop comin' out your butthole again.