Monday, December 25, 2006

That's some good shit

Sorry, but junkies are funny. If you had seen the way this guy was hopping around his broken bicycle like a poisoned kangaroo trying to revive its dead mother, you would have laughed in his oblivious face.-Vice

Saturday, December 23, 2006

Happy fucking birthday

In honor of cyberdiarrhea's 1st birthday (Dec. 16, but I was in Fukuoka, Japan), I would now like to publish my top 10 ways cyberdiarrhea has changed the world.

Cyberdiarrhea has...

1.ended world hunger and created world peace

2.invented electric toilet seats that will follow the yellow trail to the pecker of the fucker pissing on the toilet seat

3.instituted an official "don't ask, don't tell" policy in regards to scab eating

4.lulled you in with sweet whispers of a time long ago, and then picked your pocket

5.spread out football to every day of the week

6.made it o.k. to wear plaid and stripes

7.whipped up ice cream pizza

8.given 111 percent

9.made the number 9 sufficient to fill out top 10 lists

Thursday, December 14, 2006

Balls 1,2...3?

The new brash and cocksure kid is on the scene. He's been coming up through the ranks and paying his dues. In a clash at the carom 3 ball tables Wednesday, the young stud goes up against
the inimitable veteran. The kid doesn't balk. The vet doesn't care. He's seen this all go down a hundred different ways at a hundred different tables. He'll eat up that enthusiasm and leave you holding the spoon. Maybe he doesn't win every one, but he'll grind you down. You might even think you're winning, but then he's counting your bills and maybe he'll spot a fin for the bus ride home. Or maybe you'd better walk and think about your next career move. After all, there was a time when he took the same walk...

Monday, December 11, 2006

Master criminal

Act I Scene 1 (Tyrese's apt. is scattered with cereal boxes, half-completed instant sweepstakes contest forms, empty cigarette packs, and a week's worth of clothes; a remote control is hidden somewhere underneath. Tyrese lays prostrate on a sofa threadbare at every edge. The T.V. is on and Tyrese vacantly stares at it unable to change the channel due to lack of remote and ambition. The phone rings. Tyrese eyes it once, twice, and then proceeds to answer it thinking it may be a winning sweepstakes call and forgetting he never actually sent in any sweepstakes forms.)
EnRon:It be EnRon.
Tyrese:What da fuck you want?
EnRon:Let's party dude.
Tyrese:Fool, you know I ain't got no funk juice.
EnRon:Chill, fool. I know where I can get us some.
Ensuing scene...

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Only users lose drugs

Ever forget where you put that last bit of smoke? So far out in left field you can't remember where your pills are? Does your carpet look like the surface of the moon from tearing patches and smoking them looking for that sweet rock? It sounds like you could use the services of Retired Assisting Drug Dogs. Call R.A.D.D. and we'll send out one of our now off-duty drug dogs to assist you in recovering your stash. They're like ravenous addicts when it comes to finding this shit. Jones not a minute longer!
Also check out some of these smuggling ideas.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Kaneesheewah bitches

TBS presents "A Very Special Thanksgiving"

As everyone went around the room and stated what they were thankful for: friends, family, health, food, I realized what the true meaning of Thanksgiving was...

gluttony. "Father, Son, Holy Ghost, Let's see who can eat the most."- (The Oxford Guide to Etiquette)

The Three Wisemen of Rock

The caravan proceeded through the scorching dessert. The sun was enough to scramble the brain. It hurt to breathe. Camels looked on lazily without extra movement. Yet, the procession plodded on. They carried gifts of Budweiser, Doritos, and comic books.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Something hung in the air, a presence both unknown and foreboding. A spectre of the unresolved past and what may yet come. Did you see that?! There it was again?! That there might be a darkness blacker than closing your eyes in the closet and more permanent than death loomed in every sideways glance, in every spoken word. Screams of anguish were barely concealed by trembling lips. Have to get away, must run, but the ground is quicksand and the sinking feeling within is matched by that outsidely being outpaced by sinking feeling around.

R.I.P.- Chugulay Bar (2005-2006)