(no subject)
Well, tate will be taking his yearly vacation early on tommarow morning, but not before ole boy gets his hair cropped (usually don't stray away from the dusty ole bowl cut that im told suits my bonafied icecream cheex) Well, what one may call "vacation", rather what one man's vacation is, is another man's rehabilitation or invocation Denzel lookin like owsley tripped out Coltrane. Tranes Sax exploding like clips.
Tate's got his saqs filled to the brim with tricks boy. See, i'm told to keep it relatively simple in regards to what i bring, and the content of wich oughtn't be so dangerous that they lead a sick boy's mind astray. That's why im gonna put a nice leather bind of King Jame translation onto a full on 400 page 1970's Porno Live action Novel. Think a comic book with actually 1970's ass, grainy ass, porn pictures in place of sub par Stan Lee art. Think dull hue's, and alot of fuckin the colour peach. Shit, shits not even a novel. aint one damn word in there unless you count animated action boxes, "Words," words like "UHHHHH" "Oi OOiiiii OI!!" "FUCKKK!" well, maybe there really is some literature in there, but only that single 4 letter instance of it. ahh what the hell. I dont need all the 10 dollar words. i know em, hells yeah i do, but i do prefer the older and mroe simpler ones. like fuck. or EatMeOut.
I've got a few changes of clothes, all my favorite hue's of mesh workout shorts. Light Blue, Peach, Navy, whatever i want. Not much more to speak of on that topic because you teh reader im sure have gathered by cognitive faculty: Assimilation! that that includes the appropriate tanktops, anklet socks, and shoes. Underwears, too. For to keep things simple though, i just wasn't gonna mention every single top, sock, and underwear, on this here live journal update. Cause when i mentioned Nike Mesh shorts, i's like "Red Nike MEsh's, Light Blue Nike Mesh's, Brown Nike Mesh's, Tan Nike Mesh's." right? i'll reread and have my editor make sure. anyways the under garments though, they're all the same color an thats because they are infact (haha) just simply one pair. not multiples. haha. not green underwear, red underwear, tan underwear. haha Thats right. One underwear. One simple change of underwear. actually technically 0 changes of underwear but simply the ones i've had on for, ohhh... yesterday at around 9AM. 2 socks. I've got tons of Mesh shorts in whatever color fits the seasons temper. but only one underwears. You're thinking "ok tate, you think your shit dont stink... it dont. but it dont leave some tracks??? you're trippin bro." I guess i have no retort for that one. perplexed Im on pins and needles in (perplexed) the same ackward position you are, man. My shits gon' STIIINKK!!1haha.. i aint mad at me. hEha.
I'm allowed to bring a phone card and use it to my liking but we dont really know how well im gonna do with the whole fact of not splurging my mere 50 minutes (for 3 weeks) on one long ass drawn out dispute over who got the wrong damn hamburger and what the damn problem with it was. ok so you wanted fuckin pickles. k so you wanted a fuckin Mighty Max Glow Stone. (?)want me to call Burger Wrap and get shit squared away, I will. Try to get ya a free ice cold Bucket Sized Blue Mountain Blunder or whatever the fuck the season's temperment requires Mountain Blunder's Geniuse Management to declare their soda color. Yeah? You do? Ok... then BAM, i use up all my 50 minutes when for the majority of the phone call im going thru a maze of numbers only to arrive at the conclusion that... it's Muzak sedating me and im never gonna get your free shit or even the shit that Jesus Jacob rightly deserved. Muzak boy. that's what kenny G is. Thats what the Slimy Jazz Jamboree Hepdaddy's 2k' were. And you don't ever get another 1-4 option once you hear this certain Kenny G Muzak track. dont know da name of it but know its out there. Muzak is essentially elevator music. It's essentially music arrived at off of scientific or specifically the mother of science, physcology, formula's, principlesm, and doctrines, and internet quotes and the gathered results of internet IQ tests. and it has a soothing effect on shoppers, a calmign effect on old maids, and a bizarre fuckin effect on me that i'll just call similar to PCP induced dotage and that Berzerk effect in the Final Fantasy video games. Finally I don't even get any of us a free meal, sure as SHIT don't get your fuckin pickles or what the fuck ever removed by fry momma herself, and now i can't call my girl or anyone else that i can ACTUALLY get a freebie from. thanks, i'll just put this piece of plastic in my wallet and give it to my son later when i get home. he'll think it's real and it'll all be real worth while and cute. yeah... while he fuckin uses it on his Donald Dashound phone. thanks fuckers. He was already happy an hour ago. Enough about the phone card. it's pissin me off.
Let's tread into less weighty waters and i'll divulge into one more aspect of my trip, and this will be transportation. The guys say im not allowed to drive my own self there and no presumably's about it, im not allowed to drive myself because drunk driving is illegal and the only driving i've done in the last 6 months and am gonna do for 6 more has been the drunk kind, and i wouldn't see that changing tommarow morning for some fluke of a reason like my friends; the ecclasiastical Jesus Jons and Jesus Joes. Love you guys, but you know you are. i got some shit to load me up in the center console in there right now anyway; it's a pint of brandy. "feget abaddit" they're telling me. So... my mom's gonna take me and drop me off she's so nice. But pretends she's not having a good time but hey i attribute that to the whole XX chromosome thing(more on that in a sec) and the maternal side of her wich in regards to what reflects on me is about 87 percent of her whole being, while the other 13 is reserved for the shit she hasta deal with at work and with my idiot neighboors and idiotic dad. all around I'd say she's pillar of a woman. But she'll drive me apeshit while we're driving. Im sort of afraid she'll ask if i have my bible (actually her bible, sorry mom, now its the porno bible huhuhu!) and so ill say, the bible yeah here's the bible and i when i hand her the bible she'll, knowing her son's innate nature, inspect it for it;s original content and proboly turn miraculously to the page 56 wich if memory serves me is a picture of a dude's Dildo progressively gettign harder in a special Flip-Book section. by page 120 the dude's dildo is a full on Hardy. Then she'll throw it out the window and huff and puff like she does when dad makes a big deal out of her big hips, and persisted by the fact that i insist she go back and get it, i know thats completely ludicris that she pick up MY porno bible, but i insist anyway and the commotion gets so bad, (her coffee spilling all over her pussy and an old ass french fry falls out apparently of France) that she infact DOES turn dad's minivan around to pick up the Porno Bible but still has the decency to let me do it and not her, facing the risk that she pick it up and it flops open to page 300, well after the old testament or the old testicle in King Tate's version, revealing thusly a woman with a live snake in her pooch. Later on i say something to the effect of "if you gots XX chromosomes, you should like XXX porno poems." Or it wont even make sence like that but just be a really effective rhyme sceme. it'll be something like that i'll let the fair goddess spontaneity guide me. She'll rub my head and smile some sort of mom smile.
I'll let all interested partys know how this weekend at bernies like vacation goes if i can make it back alive and coherent enough to type. love ya
Tate's got his saqs filled to the brim with tricks boy. See, i'm told to keep it relatively simple in regards to what i bring, and the content of wich oughtn't be so dangerous that they lead a sick boy's mind astray. That's why im gonna put a nice leather bind of King Jame translation onto a full on 400 page 1970's Porno Live action Novel. Think a comic book with actually 1970's ass, grainy ass, porn pictures in place of sub par Stan Lee art. Think dull hue's, and alot of fuckin the colour peach. Shit, shits not even a novel. aint one damn word in there unless you count animated action boxes, "Words," words like "UHHHHH" "Oi OOiiiii OI!!" "FUCKKK!" well, maybe there really is some literature in there, but only that single 4 letter instance of it. ahh what the hell. I dont need all the 10 dollar words. i know em, hells yeah i do, but i do prefer the older and mroe simpler ones. like fuck. or EatMeOut.
I've got a few changes of clothes, all my favorite hue's of mesh workout shorts. Light Blue, Peach, Navy, whatever i want. Not much more to speak of on that topic because you teh reader im sure have gathered by cognitive faculty: Assimilation! that that includes the appropriate tanktops, anklet socks, and shoes. Underwears, too. For to keep things simple though, i just wasn't gonna mention every single top, sock, and underwear, on this here live journal update. Cause when i mentioned Nike Mesh shorts, i's like "Red Nike MEsh's, Light Blue Nike Mesh's, Brown Nike Mesh's, Tan Nike Mesh's." right? i'll reread and have my editor make sure. anyways the under garments though, they're all the same color an thats because they are infact (haha) just simply one pair. not multiples. haha. not green underwear, red underwear, tan underwear. haha Thats right. One underwear. One simple change of underwear. actually technically 0 changes of underwear but simply the ones i've had on for, ohhh... yesterday at around 9AM. 2 socks. I've got tons of Mesh shorts in whatever color fits the seasons temper. but only one underwears. You're thinking "ok tate, you think your shit dont stink... it dont. but it dont leave some tracks??? you're trippin bro." I guess i have no retort for that one. perplexed Im on pins and needles in (perplexed) the same ackward position you are, man. My shits gon' STIIINKK!!1haha.. i aint mad at me. hEha.
I'm allowed to bring a phone card and use it to my liking but we dont really know how well im gonna do with the whole fact of not splurging my mere 50 minutes (for 3 weeks) on one long ass drawn out dispute over who got the wrong damn hamburger and what the damn problem with it was. ok so you wanted fuckin pickles. k so you wanted a fuckin Mighty Max Glow Stone. (?)want me to call Burger Wrap and get shit squared away, I will. Try to get ya a free ice cold Bucket Sized Blue Mountain Blunder or whatever the fuck the season's temperment requires Mountain Blunder's Geniuse Management to declare their soda color. Yeah? You do? Ok... then BAM, i use up all my 50 minutes when for the majority of the phone call im going thru a maze of numbers only to arrive at the conclusion that... it's Muzak sedating me and im never gonna get your free shit or even the shit that Jesus Jacob rightly deserved. Muzak boy. that's what kenny G is. Thats what the Slimy Jazz Jamboree Hepdaddy's 2k' were. And you don't ever get another 1-4 option once you hear this certain Kenny G Muzak track. dont know da name of it but know its out there. Muzak is essentially elevator music. It's essentially music arrived at off of scientific or specifically the mother of science, physcology, formula's, principlesm, and doctrines, and internet quotes and the gathered results of internet IQ tests. and it has a soothing effect on shoppers, a calmign effect on old maids, and a bizarre fuckin effect on me that i'll just call similar to PCP induced dotage and that Berzerk effect in the Final Fantasy video games. Finally I don't even get any of us a free meal, sure as SHIT don't get your fuckin pickles or what the fuck ever removed by fry momma herself, and now i can't call my girl or anyone else that i can ACTUALLY get a freebie from. thanks, i'll just put this piece of plastic in my wallet and give it to my son later when i get home. he'll think it's real and it'll all be real worth while and cute. yeah... while he fuckin uses it on his Donald Dashound phone. thanks fuckers. He was already happy an hour ago. Enough about the phone card. it's pissin me off.
Let's tread into less weighty waters and i'll divulge into one more aspect of my trip, and this will be transportation. The guys say im not allowed to drive my own self there and no presumably's about it, im not allowed to drive myself because drunk driving is illegal and the only driving i've done in the last 6 months and am gonna do for 6 more has been the drunk kind, and i wouldn't see that changing tommarow morning for some fluke of a reason like my friends; the ecclasiastical Jesus Jons and Jesus Joes. Love you guys, but you know you are. i got some shit to load me up in the center console in there right now anyway; it's a pint of brandy. "feget abaddit" they're telling me. So... my mom's gonna take me and drop me off she's so nice. But pretends she's not having a good time but hey i attribute that to the whole XX chromosome thing(more on that in a sec) and the maternal side of her wich in regards to what reflects on me is about 87 percent of her whole being, while the other 13 is reserved for the shit she hasta deal with at work and with my idiot neighboors and idiotic dad. all around I'd say she's pillar of a woman. But she'll drive me apeshit while we're driving. Im sort of afraid she'll ask if i have my bible (actually her bible, sorry mom, now its the porno bible huhuhu!) and so ill say, the bible yeah here's the bible and i when i hand her the bible she'll, knowing her son's innate nature, inspect it for it;s original content and proboly turn miraculously to the page 56 wich if memory serves me is a picture of a dude's Dildo progressively gettign harder in a special Flip-Book section. by page 120 the dude's dildo is a full on Hardy. Then she'll throw it out the window and huff and puff like she does when dad makes a big deal out of her big hips, and persisted by the fact that i insist she go back and get it, i know thats completely ludicris that she pick up MY porno bible, but i insist anyway and the commotion gets so bad, (her coffee spilling all over her pussy and an old ass french fry falls out apparently of France) that she infact DOES turn dad's minivan around to pick up the Porno Bible but still has the decency to let me do it and not her, facing the risk that she pick it up and it flops open to page 300, well after the old testament or the old testicle in King Tate's version, revealing thusly a woman with a live snake in her pooch. Later on i say something to the effect of "if you gots XX chromosomes, you should like XXX porno poems." Or it wont even make sence like that but just be a really effective rhyme sceme. it'll be something like that i'll let the fair goddess spontaneity guide me. She'll rub my head and smile some sort of mom smile.
I'll let all interested partys know how this weekend at bernies like vacation goes if i can make it back alive and coherent enough to type. love ya