Friday, September 28, 2007
The Bloodhound Gang
I’ve got a headache this big!
And it’s got four club-soda choadbags written all over it.
This is like one of those wacky gangs of friends who solve crimes. No, not Scooby Doo. Different.
I’m talking The Bloodhound Gang. If you replaced clever kids who solve crimes using their smarts with douched up rayon wearing puddles of club grease who solve nothing but smell like Axe.
But, oh, the things you and I could do together, Purple.
We’d drive across the Kalahari on a stolen Vespa with only a flat bottle of Mr. Pibb and fourteen Fig Newtons to sustain us. At night we’d lie under canopy, swat the tse-tse flies and I’d rub your thighs with Crisco and a large rolling pin until their tender flesh revitalized my spirits.
Because that’s how I roll.
