Monday, September 01, 2008

A Creepy Catch Up

Where have I been? Where have you been, you foxy so and so!? Hop into my GrabbyMobile Happy Fun Time Van and I will tell you aaaaaaaallllllll about it.

That's right, yessssss. Shhhhhhh. We've got a lot of catching up to do. Please have a seat, I'll let you sit in my Captain's chair. I think I have a candy bar for you, lady, yes I do! I left it somewhere around here....

Now, where was I?

Ahhh, well let me tell you. I was called away to a mystical place called, "Ohio." Have you ever been to Ohio? Shhh, don't speak, that was rhetorical. Eat some candy corn instead. Here. I did a skit about (4) dead guys who come back from the dead, steal clothes from the living, sing songs for the elderly,(and assorted stalkers of people in off-Broadway shows) and then thrill them all by portraying the universal power of crappy, long-winded music analogies. YESSSS! [arm pump]

You look tense, let me help you out there....

While "Big Poppa," as I often refer to myself in 3rd person aloud whether someone is around to hear it or not, was there, he got sad news that made him cry and delayed this here blog. What was this sad news? Well, it was the kind of sad news that makes those Trail of Tears Indians sound like a bunch of whiny pussies.

"Waah, you're eating all of our delicious buffalos," the Indians used to say.

"Boo hoo, you keep peeing in our rivers, streams and tributaries. Goo goo ga ga, you're having sex with all of our totes hot squaws in exciting new positions"-at the end of the day they got casinos and cheap cigarettes and I didn't get bupkis.

Why, what have we here? Is that a bottle of KY Intrigue Heating Personal Lubricant in my pocket or am I just happy to see you? BOTH. Sizzle, sizzle. Mucho caliente! Maybe that'll help out with those tense shoulders....

...that sad thing was no fun. So Patrick went shopping! Hooray! Unfortunately, your Paddy spent all his Ohio Money on crackwhores, pixie sticks, diapers fo my baby-mammas' baby bum-bums, and those little pop-snap things you throw on the ground that make a loud noise to scare your friends. So a big, round, sad face on 'ol Paddycakes, right here, believe me you! Never deterred, I went to a store that growing up was like a second home, The Salvation Armani. It is here that I bought these shoes for $4. They. Are. Bitchin. But then your friend, yeah, this guy, got home to New York and wore them to the US Open to impress his clients by how "hip" and "happening" and "cool" and "not gay" he was, and the soles of both shoes fell off while he was in their VIP box. And this made him neither hip nor happening nor cool nor not gay. It made him a sole-less loser. Sole-less! Get it? Get it? It's an oronym! I kill me.

Have you ever been to a Turkish prison?

After all this traveling and shoe-sole-falling-off business, guess who was tired and decided he need to rest up in his apartment to charge up his batteries and figure out what was happening and cool? Me, baby, that's who. So off to the internets I flew and found the hottest rap video on the charts, that all the raddest kids were bumpin' in da club! (NSFW)



Is that a "hot jam" or what? Anyway, now you're all caught up.

Did I mention this puppy has a bed in the back? No? I didn't? Well, that's cause it doesn't. But we might could make one if you're a wee bit sleepy... Meow! Hey, what's with the running and shrieking and the tasing!? Not cool.

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