Taking care of business

I hate the way eggs crack into themselves. That is so fucking selfish.

I almost think they should talk to Kyle Thompson (hint for those confused, it is not the golfer).

The biggest dig in the world.

Bobby and lights

God damn, I have a cock; you have a cock or a vagina, or some odd combination of the two.

Want to meet for cocktails?

Many say no. So let's meet for wieners and tacos.

Change

I finally got my HDD fixed. So, I might start posting new posts soon. I'm not sure of the demand for my thoughts. I think it is rather small and contrite. But if 3 people ask me to continue I shall. And if not, then I might still just ramble on.


New post.

My last high school zoo visit was with a girlfriend of mine. All was going great until we saw the beautiful creature that was the polar bear. He as swimming in a very exact pattern. At first I though it was because of my girl's menstruation and the bear smelling it. But it turned out that it was my bag of Brother Laurent that drove the beast crazy.

Just goes to show you that the velvet tunnel isn't to blame for everything.

I shot my foot, but my foot was 50 Cent

I often wonder about the word 'legacy'. You'll meet some shaver who says "What's the legacy of mustard?". And it is an absolute waste of my time.

I was always confused until last night. I was having a God threesome and one of the girls takes a jalapeno pepper and, as I'm Flying Dragon the other chick, jams it right up my ass. And I couldn't help but think, 'what will be the legacy of this jalapeno pepper?'

Sushi

Mrs. Mustache On or Off always pictured you with a face. But you have none, such is the fatality of a scuttle fish affair.

Mario Batali fucked up the liquid on the pasta

Alfredo sauce done incorrectly tastes way way way too similar to the sweat of Rasputin. I'm not saying that is a bad nor a good thing. It is just a thing.

Great song

Write it down
Just don't miss a year

Slight dryness
Comes down the back of neck

Pre-Olympic Sports

Today was the MLB trade deadline. And there were quite a few blockbuster trades. None involving my favorite player though, Sandy Koufax.

His arm action was and still is almost unheard off. He was quasi-forced off the field. To me he is the Alisan Porter of baseball. Even though she obviously came years later. And fuck dodger dogs. Get more full of your self west coast. Yeah the east coast sucks and you try to pair up with them but you can do better.

Sugaree

Walking to the village apothacary today I sensed that I wasn't in a village anymore.

That was the last time I said I was japanese.

"Beast Wars" if the animals were Slovakian

Oranges don't talk shit to apples. Because they are always the underdog. You constantly hear APPLES vs. organges. Apples are always give first billing.

I prefer mangos.

French Onion Soup and a BLT

I was at a restaurant the other day and order some unsweetened iced tea, of course the the flipper armed thalidomide child brought me sweetened. The raged swelled in me like the blood filling an erection and I finally erupted and only left him a 15% tip.

Sautee

Dude man, my onion winked at me. She said, I can't peel myself away from you. Then I took my santoku knife and cut the shit out of her. Just like Princess Di.

Junge Jim's

Plantains. Every fucking tropical restaurant offers them as if they are a delicacy.

A plantain is a fucking banana that lives in the clitoris of the Caribbeans.

Mustache's Recipe #1

I like lentils.

- I hate the way they look.
- I hate the way you have to cook them.
- I hate the way you have to rinse and sort them.
- I hate thinking of pocket lent whilst eating them.
- I hate the taste of them plain.
- I hate the bags they come in and how they talk down to me.
- I hate the name lentil.
- I love how lentils taste with vanilla yogurt.
- I hate Rachel Ray.
- I hate the color green on bags of lentil.
- I hate that you are proud of your child who can push a shopping cart, push it straight into my ankle.
- I hate.

I like lentils with sauteed onions, green peppers and minced garlic.

To be an artichoke in spinach dip.

So I was shaving Brown Crown One's Lion Mane the other day and Mrs. Mustache On or Off said, "I don't want the leader of my pride to be completely bald."

*Side note-she was reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes tale "The Adventure of the Lion's Mane", and I knew so.

I shot back with the retort, "My pride shall stand taller in this vague and nebulous shrubbery."

Then we were thoroughly in a state of mirth.

Gum

Yesterday I was doing grocery shopping, or should I say that I was simply buying Cristal, Natural Light and Kobe beef since that is all I consume, but I digress. I was shopping and ran over a kid with my grocery cart. The Cristal and Natti was fine but my beef had flown out of my cart. I picked it up and carried on to the check out and home. As I fired up my grill and put the beef on it let out a scream. I didn't realize that a kid run over with a cart looks a lot like Kobe beef. It was much tot he chagrin of the mother that she had tucked my beef into bed before I returned her kid and she saw her mistake.

Shits and amputations

Every now and then you see articles talking about someone finding some sort of finger or other body part in a can of food or something of the sort. Yesterday I read about an old man finding part of a finger in a can of tune and I just thought, what a waste of a finger and a meal for an old man. That god damn fish is always ruining the meals of the elderly, just like a lack of prune juice ruins the shits of the elderly.

Fuck tuna, fuck yeah prunes.

Mutilation and Packaged Rice

We all know that is a cold hard scientific fact that masturbation causes blindness. We all also know we don't want to be shaking hands with someone who just jerked off. Therefore, I think we cut both hands off of any one who is blind, color blind, has a blind spot, has a bald spot, has a dog named spot, is blind to injustice, or who has just cut the tail off of three mice who may or may not have been blind. I don't want to touching any of those perverts hands.

Also, Rice-A-Roni is made in Chicago, not San Francisco, shit me on iron tire.

Private Dick Work

I like to believe that if I were a detective the only cases I would take on are the ones that look like I will have to do some work in the vicinity of a good burrito joint. I bet that burritos make private eye work easier than if you ate a salad or anything of creole origin.