a fragment particle or citrus nodule in spifficulious extracted from membrane component fossiles megatherium on ice, treated.
coupler signal 7, times 8, a mongoosens.
doublug the butt spacer.
Archive for the ‘Insanity’ Category
usually code i’ve been telling everyone
Wednesday, June 10th, 2009Pouch Saving Mode
Tuesday, May 5th, 2009Every 15 minutes my pouch goes to sleep. I have to pull any sinew to restore my pouch.
Plutarch VII, and Hibrenious 6, cattle ranchers, Appalachian howdy-boys, cavaliers, and makers of fine filth, accustomed to veering off road in tiny fire-truck. Writing on the pouch and pouch energy in 1968, 1393 and 1432, specified certain aero-magnetic properties such that the pouch energy components could be guessed using mathematical symbols, and the application of the science of logic.
Only later, in 1948, did Rolff Frundienne capture the actual pouch energy coming to rest, and gave this time-frame a name, 15 minutes. Clocks were built around the number 4 and 15 minutes, thus 60 minute hours, 60 hour days, 60 day years, and 60 year seconds, and 60 seconds per 3 minutes.
I tried to disable pouch-saving mode, and used three arms up in the process.
Vomited also.
N’o O mitted vomit ed.
Low Urinal in Corporate Setting
Tuesday, May 5th, 2009Mystery exists, stillness expounding.
all corporate business etc restroom ? //MALEtype restrooms – low urinal.
But HWHY?
Ridiculous. Who is this low urinal designed for? A child? But no children work in corporations, or if they do, I never see them.
Handi-capable? A private room is reserved for their whimsy. No low urinal is needed. Plus, no loading dock.
Extremely short people or people with very short legs. Tall torso’d people with feet attached directly at the knee.
If I go into a bathroom, and some dude is messing around at the regulation height urinal, I am not going to use the low urinal. Fuck that! I may as well be pissing on the floor.
Heinrik in the stall stands on the toilet bowl and laughs with glee hands fingers curled around the top, just tangent of his flatcutt. He’s a wrathful idiot. He doesn’t know either. Asked him.
Kicked the door in and grabbed him by plaid bow-tie.
Is it a policy meeting? Disaster Recovery? Does an engineer make specification? Fat rich men paying the low urninal cash / lobbyists?
Are there lunar urinals in low-space?
At the horizon stretch of black hole light dazzling is low urinal, floating, bending time.
orderific CV verse organized Resumatrx golfing buddies
Friday, April 24th, 2009“We really… really hate you.” Ssally. Ssally says this seven times a day.
She sits in the corner, looking at the walrus tusk put there by Grankpa and Umpklo after the big HWar.
afraid the demon scat lay scatter. Ssally, wishful. she doesn’t like them.
sliding across the floor on her inverted pussy, leaving a trail of scum.
he’s Froille. The merr-goose. Lay there quiet dead, eyes.
Rectology. Recto-joy.
Sweet cushion reality.
spitting lotto chunks
Tuesday, April 21st, 2009i am wanna kiss the chunks of lotto vomit
can you help me?
i want to LUCKY sucker
i want long
i gonna graspping the all numbers plus one number
is it a forecast? am i to winning?
get me flash pot
dash a camel throbbing yuca anal + sweltering butterz: broadcasting booth of mind
Monday, April 13th, 2009camel
Bored by birds
cylindracles
tentacontibentos
Razor like camel jumping
Porky never-laughing adventures into infinity:
broadcasting into your mind the inverse of scissors
etc
troubled with gathering
Saturday, March 28th, 2009at first, walt didn’t know what to think. seemed oka bit zeroed and he couldn’t figured it out.
the terrible group was gathering. several miles away, in fact. but what, lark. he hid in his closet behind boxes and breezed slow.
god may they not find up nor down.
blood sloppy u
Thursday, March 12th, 2009cranboogers syncronous hamburgers from fire thumbers granapple slappy girunga zaspa, sinkle, soppler, a give bear, nip-tank. rangrangle. all fushhed. no toilret, all scramp.
nordf.,
jum.
all sweat hairs.
inter-G vey.
superior Vey.
Lost adamample box with helmet. area of helmet sufficiency.
collapsible rapsidoh. ERRRR. UGHHHh.
norver.
Lucite Box Anxiety
Sunday, November 2nd, 2008Wonder where the lobe has gone rounding? Buzzy-face foundlings in a deep depth corner, scabs runny eggs burned out mud, cravonity, frog-lapped. saw a pair of chaps at the auction today. fuck it. crawled inside a lucite box behind Rondy’s magnificent corpse-car. i lay there on a pile of folded beer cases. Oh, the majestic hours and the trembling drunken misfits malingering by the sea dunes, centuries. historical, planetary insane anxiety. rolled over, wept and fell asleep. silt-a-whael