Errr...What?

I have one of the worst memories in the world.
Outside of Earth? I don't know.
How dumb of me to always say, "In the world"...
Like how do I know that?

I don't.

That's why I'm stupid.

I'm the stupidest guy in the world.

So I woke up today to a baby in the house...

It kind of threw me for a loop. I thought, "did I drink that much last night?" "Does my girlfriend have super ovaries?" "Do I have artificially intelligent mobile sperm?" I found out that my girlfriend's sister was dropping off her tyke for the day. Oh. I must say, that the little punk is totally cute. So, first thing I did was go on a walk with her while my girlfriend took a shower, but then when I got back my girlfriend refused to speak with me after she saw the leash around the baby's neck. What was I supposed to do, carry her? So then we decided to take it to the movies because there's no better way to enjoy cinema than with a young baby, right? About twenty-five minutes into Gangs Of New York though, we had to leave. I guess some people don't have any patience and their ears are way too sensitive, because a group of Scorcese geeks grabbed the screaming thing from my hands, ran out to the lobby, doused it in a vat of fake popcorn butter, and then kicked it out into the street. Bastards.

We decided to get something to eat after our horrible movie experience. While we were making reservations at a fancy-schmancy outdoor patio-type restaurant over here, I wanted to get a paper - but my hands were full with the little, wriggling thing. I got in trouble again. How was I supposed to know that the panhandler that I gave the baby to thought I was being generous? I guess babies go for alot on the Black Market. So we finally tracked the panhandler down. It was feeding our stolen baby some roasted rat, so I guess we didn't need to feed it. I had to trade my shoes to get it back. Great. There's fifty bucks down the drain....

We finally got home. Got in trouble again after my girlfriend caught me cutting hair and taking skin samples from the baby. I thought that If I could somehow learn the formula of and how to bottle Baby Smell, I could make a million dollars. So now the thing looks like an albino Mr. T with eczema.

Whatever. I'm done. Stupid babies.

Okay. I Have to go and chop off my penis.

Goodbye.

Haley's Comments...

See? Instead of me writing something right now, like I should have a long time ago - I can just post this and have you tell me how your day is going in the COMMENTS instead. Then, after I wake up and do some meaningless crud, I can write stuff that'll make you shit your pants due to it either being terribly exciting or terribly-so-fucking-boring-that-your-whole-body-just-lost-all-control-and-what's-a-case-of-the-smelly-pants-anyway?-I-can-just-blame-Kevynn-for-the-whole-situation-and-send-him-the-bill-so-who-cares?

It Seems...

Right now...all the sleep I never get?

Is catching up with me............

That, and the STD's...

Stupid Eyelids...

I have this problem. No, it's not the set of male/female sex organs that I've mentioned before. Just kidding. Dude, like I would mention it to you! I wouldn't be writing.I'd be humping myself - what d' ya think I am? Stupid? You know what? Now that I think of it - having a set of both male and female sex organs might be a tad difficult to afford. You would have to buy douche and condoms. A true gentleman cares about his vaginal hygiene. Condoms would be a necessity so as not to get one's own self preggers. And if you were a true hermaphrodite and had an uncanny piano playing ability, would that mean that you fluently played three organs? It would be a stretch not only in the pants, but in the wallet, like I said because you would have to spring for dinner for yourself, and drive a fancy car so that you could get into your own pants. Masturbation might prove to be a decisive battleground. What to do, how to, and with what? Looking into purchasing those electric shocky-pad-thingies that they use on dead people in the emergency rooms might be a wise investment, if you just stuck it down your pants and turned it on and off, maybe that'd do the trick. Check Ebay. I don't know.

See what happens? I fell asleep, by accident. I hate sleep. I was going to write about an old friend from high school.

Now I'm going to get even more weird web hits. In this post alone I've mentioned:

Male
Female
Humping
Sex Organs
Douche
Condoms
Vaginal Hygiene
Preggers
Hermephrodite
Masturbation
and Ebay.

Combine that with Fat Free Milk, and I'm going to have quite the interesting assortment of google searches cum tomorrow.

Mother would be proud.

Stupid eyelids.

One Of These Days...

I want to buy a bunch of Duraflame firelogs and light them all, and spell out something to a passing plane. I dont know what. But I want to do it.

And I won't make the same mistake that Gilligan made in the episode when the castaways used Mr. Howell's brandy to light some palm tree trunks on fire. For some reason, astronauts were orbiting low, the Professor figured out that they would be seen, so they spelled out SOS. Gilligan did something stupid and messed it up so that it spelled out SOL - which was the name of one of the passing astronauts.

I could be lazy and just spell out a bad word. But then Gilligan might mess that up too, and the passing plane would wonder why I spelled out "Fork You".

I've Got A Bad Feeling About This...

You ever have one of those days when you just dont feel so fresh inside? That's why I use...just kidding. No, this isn't about douche. It may be the written equivalent of douche, I don't know. No. I was going to to say that's it's dark now. Daytime is done. I didn't do much. Little things. Nothing special. But you ever have one of those days that make you feel a little uneasy? Like you've forgotten something important? That something is wrong or that something bad might happen? It makes me feel weird, yo.

And these feelings can't be associated with poo, because I just did that - and my sense of foreboding is still here.

Aliens Don't Need Jamie Escalante To Teach Their Children Calculus...

If intelligent life exists somewhere else in the universe, have they visited Earth?
Some say they have repeatedly in the past. Some say they are monitoring us presently.
Some say they live among us. Some say they secretly run the world. Some say they want our world for themselves.

Are we being studied?

And if we are, why haven't they made their presence known in a more direct manner?
If people believe in omnipotent, all-seeing, all-creating gods, and devils with cloven feet and pitchforks - why not believe in skinny, big-eyed aliens playing on planet Earth?
Why aren't aliens knocking on our door with pamphlets containing something other than Mormon literature? Why aren't beings from another world spamming me? Where are my extraterrestrial pop up ads?

If aliens exist, why aren't they fucking the shit up?

Because everybody knows that you shouldn't knock on the glass. You shouldn't stick your fingers in the water too much - especially without washing them. It's better for the fish if you just sit back and look at them.

Because you feel a little guilty riling up the ant hill.

Because you never know what you're going to catch playing with stray animals.

Because if you pay too much attention to them, they'll follow you home.

Because if you play with them too much, the mother will smell you on them and then abandon them.

Because nobody likes to break up a dog fight.

Titles I Didn't Use For This Post...


Shop Smart...Shop...S-Mart...
My Pig Brick...
The Hitchhikers Guide To Your Moms House...
The Fucked And The Furious...
Axe Deodarant Body Spray For Men...

Frodo Lives...

My writing has been ultimate-sucky-poo-poo lately. Even more so than usual, I mean.
I promise to do better. I swear. No, really. I mean it. I really do. I've just been busy.

My New Years Resolution is to not feed you bloggy-crap.

And to say, Penis. Tits. Fuck. Young. Old. Sucking. Mothers. Free. Iraq. Mac. Apple. MSN. Star Wars. Brittney Spears. Joe Millionaire. Download. Porn. Movies. Micheal Jackson. and. Anal.

In order to get more web hits.

Love,

Kevynn Malone