Monday, February 28, 2005
Sexy Sadie with Two Dim Shadies
Oh Sexie Sadie…caught between the poles (literally) of Perma-Lose and WallStreet Douche…can you blame your Sicilian Carnivore WingGirl from walking away in disgust/self-loathing jealousy? We too are jealous…O that alibaster Elvira skin…
Posts have been sparse in this wormhole into 2005…Spinal Meningitis is calming down and the Socklets will soon ship back to the Present Ex-Mrs. Sock so salad days will soon return. Until then…here’s a pair o’ pears.
Just hang in there as I make the necessary adjustments.
Pear is always a great way to start the day.
Hope you feel better DS.
Reverend Chad is receiving his Myer’s Bag with Glutathione push (respect). Talking with cancer ladies about weed theraapy at naturopath that gives me a renob, little spinners, while she sucks my health plan dry.
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Adjustment Pear is making my liver enzymes better. Fix that fucking spine Dark Sock. It may be time to marry the ex-second and third Mrs.Sock again. Son.
Meanwhile, in the purple-hazed background, behind the Sicilian with the schnoz, Jimi Hendrix goes a little heavy on the lighter fluid and burns along with his guitar.
She has a Debbie Harry vibe going here and the greaseball on the right looks like Oscar DeLaHoya before he went fag.
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What’s with the Boss posting stuff on the home page? I just accidentally found it. That’s some bullshit.
That douche on the right looks very familiar I think he has been on here before.
Get well soon, Sock. This place needs you.
@ Dark Sock
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Don’t be fuccen around with that meningitis shit. It can kick the crap out of students for months let alone us old guys. Rest up and get well soon.
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As for the pic: Seems like left bro is kinda pissed that girly girl is gettin’ in the way of his make out sesh with Eddie Munster III.
Wall Street: Douchebags never sleep.
I sometime fancy myself a Nigerian princess sitting upon a throne of skeletal jackals and wearing a flowing robe of stone-washed cape buffalo skins. Balanced upon my regal head would be a five-gallon bucket of latex house paint and a ferret, because my posture would be impeccable and my nipples in a constant state of readiness.
Sometime I just sit alone in the dark, drinking warm beer, wondering if I left my phone in the truck.
you have to appreciate a bag who comes home from a day of work washing dishes (cleaning urinals, cutting lawns, whatever) and then puts on a suit to go to da club to try and fool bleeths into thinking he is employed in a position of importance that requires that he wear a suit.
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and when I say appreciate I mean mock to no end.
Where is Skinny D’Amato when you need him?
Skinny D’Amato’s demise is a lesson for all of us. For all of the Ass Punch Fury he doled out, he wound up walking the boardwalk in Atlantic City wearing Velcro sneakers and diapers. Literally.
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When he retired his savings consisted of some Italian railroad bonds, a collection of Jimmy Roselli albums, $1246 and an autographed picture of Dom DiMaggio. He subsisted on hard boiled eggs, sardines and an occasionally taralli.
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Once he lost his faculties and the ability to toilet himself the Paisano Ba Fangoolo Society put him up in the Retired Buttonman Home for the Criminally Incontinent, where he died soon thereafter. Thereafter, I says.
^ story brings a tear to my eye. RIP Skinny
Ain’t nothing wrong with boiled eggs, I like mine brined with vinegar, and sardines. Im gonna live forever on that shit and the Eastern (respect) medicine I’m into. Gonna be driving again soon, but still touring the lesbian ruled roads with Lenny. Fuck driving! And fuck Gaza!
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Sick of all the commie pinko media party bullshit about the mean Jews. Ordered pink “Guns and Moses” T’s for my tribe. I got a Peace Salam Shalom shirt my brothers. Cause I stand with the hippies of old. The hippies of old that washes, I mean.
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Jennifer Love-Hewitt