When I arrive, I bring the fire! Just like Lil Wayne! LOLZ! Hey bitches, I'm still here. Fuck my inactivity. If you aren't checking up on me everyday then you're priorities are like ballsacks. Weird and stupid.
So this alligator is at the bottom of the lake. He's typing on his computer, which just happens to be an HP PC with internet capabilities. There's a problem, however. His alligator tears blend in with the swamp water. Waaaa, Mr. Green! You see, this alligator needs to print off a very important report. But since this alligators computer/printer is underwater, the paper gets very soggy.
OH MICHAEL, MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE STARTED TO BLOG AGAIN. LOL. I MEAN, IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO? HAHA.
I hate tall chicks, and short chicks. I only like medium chicks. If you are not 5ft7 then you're vagina is filled with gun powder.
YOU'RE GETTING BETTER, BUT THIS IS KIND OF ALL OVER THE PLACE. CAN'T YOU WRITE SOMETHING LONGER, LIKE A FUNNY STORY?
Sure. One time a tall chick and a short chick were at a restaurant. They both had gun powder in their vaginas. The waiter, who was a Frenchman named Henry Ford (AUTHORS NOTE: THIS FRENCHMAN WAS NOT RELATED TO HENRY FORD, AMERICAN MACHINE HERO). Henry Ford took a sniff at the table, and smelt the powder scents. He then said, "I am sorry, ladies, but I can not serve you this evening. Why don't you go to Canada." The ladies were offended, and started to cry (AUTHORS NOTE: THESE TEARS WERE DIFFERENT FROM THE ALLIGATORS TEARS, WHICH WERE PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED). So their tears strolled down their faces, and down their bodies. Earlier in the day, it should be mentioned, these ladies had been drinking rum and pine sol. AND SO THE COMBINATION OF THE GUN POWDER, THE RUMTEARS, AND THE CANDLES AT THE TABLE CREATED AN EXPLOSION! The Frenchman, who's moustache had a little bit of fire on it, was the first out of the burning building. "Oh my!" he shouted, "What a horrible evening for my restaurant!"
I MEAN, I GUESS THAT'S GOOD. BUT REALLY WEIRD. YOU SHOULD SEE SOMEONE. LIKE A THERAPIST. HEHE!
I did see a therapist, thank you, in 2006. My therapist, a woman with high morals and higher hair, told me to stop blogging. "Every time you blog," she'd say, "you're giving your ideas away for free. You don't want to be an idea whore, do you?"
Speaking of whores, where you at? My blog is a lady magnet. Every time I blog, ladies can't resist. As soon as I post this, ladies across the internet will take notice. "His writing is so different," they think. "I'll bet he's the type of guy that could make my boring life a little more colorful. I don't know, he's got the right amount of crazy."
THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF CRAZY. I LIKE THAT.
Well fuck you then.