dad may have been right
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a horrible sinking feeling as you drift to sleep
Monday, January 29, 2007
...is this thing still on?
Testes? One. Two. Three?!?
Testes.

I just had to migrate this over to a new area and all sorts of weird fun. Who knows what evil lurks in the heart of google! The shadow nose!
spouted by Johnny @ 4:42 PM   1 comments
Sunday, September 03, 2006
Hijack flavors that are flippin' like birds.
A close friend of mine linked me this earlier in the week, and I have been unable to get it out of my head. Therefore, I share it with you all, if there is anyone who actually readys this with any regularity anymore due to my erratic posting. In case you were wondering, the rap song translated is "One More Chance" by Biggie Smalls, off his album, Ready to Die.


Lyrics:

First things first, I poppa, freaks all the honeys

Dummies - playboy bunnies, those wantin’ money

Those the ones I like ‘cause they don’t get nathan’

But penetration, unless it smells like sanitation

Garbage, I turn like doorknobs

Heart throb, never, black and ugly as ever

However, I stay coochied down to the socks

Rings and watch filled with rocks

TRANSLATION:

As a general rule, I perform deviant sexual acts with women of all kinds, including but not limited to those with limited intellect, nude magazine models, and prostitutes. I particularly enjoy sexual encounters with the latter group as they are generally disappointed in the fact that they only receive penile intercourse and nothing more, unless of course, they douche on a consistent basis. Although I am extremely unattractive, I am able to engage in these types of sexual acts with some regularity. Perhaps my sexuality is somehow related to my fancy and expensive jewelry.

Lyrics:

And my jam knock in the Mitsubishi

Girls pee pee when they see me, Nava-hoes creep me in they tee pee

As I lay down laws like I lay carpet

Stop it - if you think your gonna make a profit

TRANSLATION:

I enjoy playing my music loudly on my car stereo. Apparently, women enjoy this also because they become sexually aroused when they see me driving. Oddly enough, when I visit the Native American reservations, some of the more sexually promiscuous Indian women attempt to seduce me in their homes. Their intent is to divest me of my earnings. Such actions are unacceptable.

Lyrics:

Don’t see my ones, don’t see my guns - get it

Now tell ya friends Poppa hit it then split it

In two as I flow with the Junior Mafia

I don’t know what the hell’s stoppin’ ya

I’m clockin’ ya - Versace shades watchin’ ya

Once ya grin, I’m in game, begin

TRANSLATION:

Understand this fact: you can have neither my money, nor my weapons. I suggest that you inform your peers that we engaged in violent sexual acts. Currently, I am rapping with my associates, the Junior Mafia. I’m having some difficulty understanding why you refuse to approach me. I am attempting to make eye contact with you through my expensive glasses, and as soon as you respond with a smile, I will approach you.

Lyrics:

First I talk about how I dress and this

And diamond necklaces - stretch Lexuses

The sex is just immaculate from the back I get

Deeper and deeper - help ya reach the

Climax that your man can’t make

Call and tell him you’ll be home real late

Let’s sing the break

TRANSLATION:

I prefer to open the conversation with light banter about my wardrobe and jewelry, then I like to discuss my collection of expensive cars. This is more than enough to convince you to have sexual intercourse with me. I am able to insert my penis further into you when I enter you from behind. Furthermore, you will be able to reach orgasm. I understand this to be a problem with your current sexual partner. He needn’t be concerned about your whereabouts. Please phone him and inform him that you won’t be home for a while. By the way, please sing the chorus of the song for me also.

Lyrics:

She’s sick of that song on how it’s so long

Thought he worked his until I handled my biz

There I is - major pain like Damon Wayans

Low down dirty even like his brother Keenan

Schemin’ - don’t bring your girl ‘round me

True player for real, ask Puff Daddy

TRANSLATION:

Your current love interest no longer wishes to hear your fabrications about the length of your member. After I had sexual intercourse with your woman, she became enlightened as to the proper way it is supposed to be performed; violently and immorally. It would be in your best interest to keep your woman away from me as my sexual prowess is very strong. If you are unconvinced, ask Puff Daddy.

Lyrics:

You - ringin’ bells with bags from Chanel

Baby Benz, traded in your Hyundai Excel

Fully equipped, CD changer with the cell

She beeped me, meet me at twelve

TRANSLATION:

Despite the fact that you attempted to win her at her doorstep with bags full of expensive clothes and a car (the lower end model Mercedes Benz which you financed by signing over your current vehicle) containing an expensive stereo and a cellular phone, your woman has contacted me through my pager indicating that we should rendezvous at midnight.

Lyrics:

Where you at? Flippin’ jobs, playin’ car notes?

While I’m swimmin’ in ya women like the breast stroke

Right stroke, left stroke what’s the best stroke

Death stroke - tongue all down her throat

Nuthin’ left to do but send her home to you

I’m through - can ya sing the song for me, boo?

TRANSLATION:

You, on the other hand, jump from job to job, barely able to maintain payments on the Mercedes Benz you purchased for your woman. Meanwhile, I continue to engage in sexual intercourse and commit lewd osculatory acts with your women. My only remaining option is to request that she leave my home and return to you because I have reached orgasm and no longer have a need for her presence.

Lyrics:

So, what’s it gonna be? Him or me?

We can cruise the world with pearls

Gator boots for girls

The envy of all women, crushed linen

Cartier wrist-wear with diamonds in ‘em

The finest women I love with a passion

Ya man’s a wimp, I give that ass a good thrashin’

TRANSLATION:

The ultimate decision rests with you. Whom do you choose as your sexual partner. I can take you on cruises around the world. I will dress you in the finest jewelry and footwear. You will be envied by women worldwide in your fine clothes and jewelry. There is a special place in my heart for beautiful women. I will defeat your man in an altercation because he is effeminate.

Lyrics:

High fashion - flyin’ into all states.

Sexin’ me while your man masturbates.

Isn’t this great? Your flight leaves at eight.

Her flight lands at nine, my game just rewinds.

Lyrically I’m supposed to represent.

I’m not only the client, I’m the player president

TRANSLATION:

You will be dressed in finest clothes on the runways of Paris. I will fly you to every state to shop for fine clothes and jewelry. You will enjoy sexual intercourse with me and your man will be forced to pleasure himself through manual stimulation. What a life! I’ll return you to LaGuardia in time to catch your 8 o’clock flight. The timing is perfect because I have scheduled a date with a second woman who arrives at the same gate at 9 o’clock. I’ll seduce her in the same way that I seduced you. I rap well and I am a positive reflection of my home town. Not only am I a sexually deviant, misogynistic, immoral, wealthy, male prostitute, but I also sit on the board of directors of the organization that governs others of my kind.

spouted by Johnny @ 9:04 PM   1 comments
Sunday, August 13, 2006
In love with a Strict Machine.
Firstly, I was mildly alarmed, then strangely titillated to find that my mother has taken to listening to the Ditty Bops. It strikes me as very amusing, and she has caught the bug fairly readily. I may introduce to her other like minded artists and see how it goes.

I also found that the mainstream papers down here covered the release of a new Mountain Goats CD, which was a pleasant surprise whilst flipping through them at the beach yesterday. In between bouts of slathering sunscreen on my poor, pasty frame and averting my eyes from the plethora of banana-hammock girded Germans who were at field 5 of Jones beach, I read a very passable article attempting to explain the music. It was as though there was a bizzare Teutonic invasion, all harsh accent and waxed, barely cald blondes jumping around and frolicing as I scowled into my paper, and attempted to build a slight tan, so I might look healthy.

This morning, I woke at seven and pulled up two stumps in the backyard. It needed to be done, in a big way, and then I mowed the lawn and took care of pool related issues. When done, I came in and saw for the second time on TV Alison Goldfrapp hawking a new phone for Verizon. It was odd to hear the music in only a chunk, but I am guessing that they are well on their way to more populatiry and so on and so forth. Yay for that, because of the quality and enjoyment that is provided by the tunes which the group collectively issue.

Thats about it for now.
spouted by Johnny @ 4:20 PM   0 comments
Sunday, August 06, 2006
summer time...and the livin's easy...
Not exactly.

I've an interminable headache from the humidity, to say nothing of the horrible things occuring with my poor booty, and my undergarmets sudden compulsion to be intimately acquainted with it.

But I digress. I was struck by the oddity of the pool this afternoon. A mass of water so chemically treated that I fear to actually submerge myself in it, thereby denying it the realiztion of its platonic form, and thusy negating its meaning and existance in my frame of refrence.

That was a joke, see.

Anyway, after this weeks past heat wave, I was amazed to find the temperature in the pool was about 92 degrees. This meant jumping in was a curious exercise, where one did not feel refreshed so much as wet, and still somewhat warm. Unacceptable.

So I did what any sane and reasonable fellow would do. Purchased approximately 20 pounds of ice and dumped it in the pool.

It worked.

American ingenuity, biatch!

keep cool in the heartland, babe.
spouted by Johnny @ 10:47 PM   1 comments
Thursday, August 03, 2006
Creeeeeeak.....
Slowly the knob turned. And the door opened...

Turn this knob, bitches.

So, if there is anyone that gives a rip who did not know already, I am back down in NYC. There's your update on my location, bitches. And if you didn't care...why would you be here? Random blog jumping? Shit, get a life. It's beautiful out.

You'd best enjoy life before the rapture comes and we're all boned, anyway.

I mean, unless you are one of the lucky hundred thousand or so who ascends to a cloudy, wonderful place, where you meet everyone you ever liked, and there are gumdrop pillows and candy-floss pillows.

pfft. Fuck THAT.

When the end comes, I'd far rather be smack dab in the middle of it, bat in one hand and a bigass bottle of gin in other. If Death or the Antichrist want to take a crack at me, they better be packing, and ready for the fact that I'm gonna take at least a nipple as a trophy before I drop.

My convictions are that strong, motherfuckers.

And if I am wrong? What if an all merciful god that I never really believed in me picks me up, puts me in the palm of his hand and tells me I'm forgiven? I'll unzip right there, piss in his palm, spit and demand to know his excuse. For all the shit. Then I'll jump the hell off and come rarin' back down.


Yours with a great and furious anger.
spouted by Johnny @ 8:11 PM   1 comments
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
After A Long Break
And an installation as a godparent, which was minorly surreal, I am going to actually remember to post about the bvarious bugs in my arse again. But first, a humor interlude. I give you Tatsuya Ishida's brilliant strip, SinFest






This one was just so cute...
spouted by Johnny @ 10:33 AM   0 comments
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Cat furniture.
Cat furniture?!?

Yes. Bloody cat furniture. Upon seeing that addition of a 'Cat Condo', which is essentially a large, multi-tiered construct made of carpeted wood and sissal rope for scratching might encourage my little onomonopaeic bundle of joy to stop expressing his individuality on the chair, by medium of claw marks, the procurement phase was immediately entered. However, shockingly, the average price for a small, rather sad looking one is about 80 dollars.

So, I am building one. The pieces are all together, and I am putting the final screws into it in an hour or so. It stands about six feet tall, and weighs...well, lets just say I am fairly certain it could take a direct blast from a smal but robust thermonuclear device and be just fine.

Pictures to follow.
spouted by Johnny @ 8:56 AM   0 comments

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Home: Buffalo, New York, United States
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