ehwww, gross. nasty nate

Land of LinColin, or that Prostate, Massages?

In case y'all weren't counting, i was, and i have crossed over the 20post mark today. that's a score for all you reactionaries like me. (i'm really not so sure why the term has has such a negative connotation. when you think about it would you rather react and adapt or predict and forecast. the choice appears quite logical when you break it down as i have... moving on...

if i'm not mistaken that puts me just 67 shy of a... Lincoln Log or is it a Log Cabin Republican? sometimes i can't tell the difference in the dark. and no, that was not some thinly veil masquarade or worse yet something even more ambiguous, but rather blatantly homoErotic. can you feel me now?

nb--

i blogged so hard all over this piece today that i stained it for sure

YEP

that's right; i'm back, baby. did you miss me? i knew you would.

rest assured...

i'll be sure to remind him what a churlish little girl his is before i leave his land.

returning from a brisk walk around the local links in the Ucity w/ my old gal-pal. we all call her dh lawrence b/c she's a dyed in the wool romantic. she bleeds from the heart she wears valiantly upon her sleeve. no joke; he's the tits. you should see for yourself. All you need do is stop by 1076 N&S- day or night she's down to knock boots...and i think everyone knows what i mean. i mean, my god, i hope so (sans steirs). someday soon, son. i promise. i will.

BANG!!!

i warned you, didn't i?

and i'm spent

just kidding...i've a few live rounds left in the revolver...and don't forget about the one in the chamber...you say you won't NOW...but you will; people always do...

that was too cruel. was that too mean? whatev...get over it...i did; what's taking you?

i will chase you from here w/ my shotgun.
you're right, i don't own a single firearm, but i for suredly know people who even have licenses for theirs. that sound all official...and easily traceable...i'll take my w/ serial number already filed down- thank you very much st. louis city.

from one county boy to one gangbanging middle school boy,
your welcome; and thanks... for keepin yourself down w/o any help from the man.
yeah, you do it all yourself; don't let barry ob tell you any differently.
best,
mp

seriously you're not helping

i think you better leave...now

really don't... it can only hurt the cause

in case you're count as i am that 10 posts in two hours... not bad if i do say so myself.
i'll be right back...don't look back

when people ask you what you did all day now you can look them square in the jaw and say, 'you know, 'keepin' up w/ the blogs'

even if it's just mine, you can still you the plural because my page is massive...ly important.
YEP

eastbound & ...

droppin'em DOWN.
rippin'em OUT.
me & kenny "fuckin" powers.
you believe that noise?
me neither.

k"f"p: so wait, you named your kid after fuckin titanic?
that's the dumbest shit i ever hear.
what's his name, 'shrek?'

i'll call you in a quick knap

got that one in way under the gun didn't i? i guess that means i can slack off/wack off for the next 45m. YEP

so i went on a little jaunt into north county this morning. i'm pretty sure i pulled up next to mary j. blidge at a stoplight. and let me take this chance to you, 'she looks good in person, in the morning, even w/o her hair or makeup done up. moving on...
do you ever wonder what it would be like to live in st. louis 50/75 years ago? i know i don't!

that's right i'm an ass
you read it here first.
breakin stories and breakin hearts all over this state for the past 13 years of lovely and mostly unluckly attempts at success in all endeavors

so if you don't mind i will just recall a back n' forth b/w my cuz and me. and it goes something like this...

p: springsteen made pumping gas sound poetic.
m: yeah, it's kinda like masterbating w/ sandpaper- it's good, but it hurts.

i really don't have much to add to that. it's pretty self-explanitory. it's all just sorta hangin out there for any and all to see.

and i will see you about a half or in ratard timekeeping it will happen when 12 is on the big line, right? help me out all you special needs readers.

YEP

DIGG?...

what's up bitches? on;y five minutes late w/ the first... not too shabby... not too shabby indeed. But fo real- what's up my disciples? I'm hear droppin the thunder on the half for the next few minutes. stick around; it could get interesting. weird for sure; you can count on that wouldn't you say, especially after reading the maiden ship sometime last night. on second thought it's not so much like thunder as it isrolling rumbles... yeah, i like that much more gentle, peaceful, subtle- right? anyway, watch out; i'm gonna keep serving them up all afternoon like wicked curves droppin off that analog face onto this page everytime the big hand hits the 12 or the 6. YEP.

if only I had a ten speed and the new Vampire Weekend CD....

Columbia, Missouri has become somewhat of a mystery to me. I spent five years of my life living there and still do not quite understand what makes that place tic. The last time I was there, my girly and I were walking around downtown admiring the seemingly eco-friendly theme it has taken on and I realized that Columbia is very pleasant. It was a bit confusing though because most of the stores were not open at 10:30am and they're were very little people walking around. Then like a zombie movie hipsters started appearing from nowhere in drones. Shoulderless t-shirts with hot pink images, ten speeds, tight stain-washed jeans, i-pods by the thousand and many other delightful commodities creeped out of the woodwork which can only be described as Vampire Weekendesk. This meaningless blog post is nothig more than an observation and while my intention is not to make fun of these people, I did know one thing when this occured; it was then time to leave Columbia.

what really?

a small caveat-- this was written by a guy who'd never really been dumped before-- it hurts, kinda. it def. makes me mad. idk-- I usually walk away way before now, but I really, kinda like her-- whatever there's three billion women in the world and they all can't know each other, right? eh?

pitchfork iv

no i wasn't there but i heard the dulcid tones through the breezey chicago saturday evening were sweet. apparently Grizzly Bear was really good, but I find that really hard to believe seeing as how they SUCK DICK--- seriously though i'm told tweedy and mizzz leslie fiest did a nice redition of Wilco's ???

But in all seriousness let's talk about the bullshit that fat-titted bitch pulled on me Friday night. First I see her across the street from the Blue Fugue (formerly the Music Cafe for all of you who have disavowed all knowledge of CoMo, BoCoMo, or Mid-Mo-- whatever you called it), and she totally blows me off w/ some half-assed FLUSY wave. So I say fuck it, but it doesn't end there. I'm so frustrated/confused/pissed off that I decide to leave... An hour later, my roommate calls me to tell me there's some big-titty black chic who's mad and who's looking me. She apparently ends her futile search by utterly. "fuck this shit...he's not even worth it." Not worth it... really? REALLY? So anyway, I call her the next day to smooth it over. (oh, did i mention that i put pants back on and drove down to the bar, except by that time she'd gone, but that's beside the point.) And she said that she doesn't think she has time to see me again, really? REALLY? Then she has the nerve to suggest that she is somehow entitled to my things. Case in point, she borrowed approximately 17 books from me (as a test to prove her awesome reading speed & comprehension... whatever... who gives a shit). So when I called her, she suggested that she would keep the Chuck Klosterman book, IV. I didn't say anything over the phone; this was at the very end a very brief conversation. I thought about for about two seconds and realized the ridiculousness of the request and quickly sent her message that in no uncertain terms demanded that book returned with the others. MY GOD!