SECOND HAND STORY ABOUT A FACEBOOK CONVERSATION I HAD WITH SOMEBODY YOU DON’T KNOW!

Nothing gets readers more amped than some fudging stories about facebook.  I mean if there was a Pulitzer Prize for writing I would totally win it.  Is Pulitzer the one with the old guy who comes to your house with a giant check and cameras? That’s publishers clearing house? Ohh that’s what I want to win for writing.

Not sure that’s how it works.

Shit is that why I have never won?

No, it’s your writing.

Ohhh, jeez mom. Going for the juggler.

Jeeez son….

Any way.  A facebook friend of mine posted a question that was posed to them.  If you could choose an animal that busts through your bathroom window at 3 am which would you choose?  My math questions school sucked, this facility sounds incredible.  This is real world stuff I would love to know.  I started to realize how bent over naked I am for a 3 am marmot attack.

My answer was the best animal of all, Predator.  If I gotta go.  It better involve a giant laser beam to the chestle.

Which did raise an interesting question.  Sexual predator or Just Predator.  Well not “just” Predator.  Let’s not be fucking disrespectful.  I am pretty sure that anything that breaks into your bathroom window at 3 am has no wholesome intentions.

I have been laughing to myself for about 2 hours now with the mental picture of Predator breaking through my bathroom window for some midnight raping.

I guess I won’t be laughing at about 3 am.  But I think it’s one of those things that with time will turn into a funny story.  Hey remember how that guy died from nightly Predator rapes.  Ahhh haha yea. What was his name? I don’t know, let’s get a taco.

SexyThighs69: Hey kids your parents home? Wanna play with my laser...

Undercover cop: Yes Mr. Thighs.  I want to turn invisible with you.  Be there at 8.  My parents will be at dinner theatre.

Ohh. Hello Mr. Predator. What are you doing here? Why did you bring a shoulder cannon and some bud light lime?

Predator: It’s not what it looks like.  He is my little brother…. ahh fuck it.

Don't get targeted by a sexual Predator. Cause your dead.

Hear that sound.  That’s the sound of my Pulitzer being minted. That’s just two cats fighting?  I should really learn sounds better.

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AWESOME SONG OF THE DAY

CRIME MOB

ROCK YO HIPS

 

TV SHOW AWESOMENESS: AWAKE!

Again something I’ve never seen before.  I enjoy talking about stuff I know nothing about other than my immediate preconceptions. I find things are usually neater in my brain than in real life. Like how Wrath of the Titans has fucking nothing to do with Remember the Titans.  I was expecting a violently inspirational equal rights story.  Instead all we  get is Sam Waterston flying a horse.  What? Worthington? Damnit.  I thought he was stuck on a ledge.

Awake, according to a TV guide sentence I skimmed, is about a guy who gets in a car crash and either his son dies or his wife dies depending on whether or not he is dreaming and which dream/reality he is in.  That is a great idea.  However, that guy has the most depressing and boring dreams ever.  I’d have to decide between a world where I ride falcor to fight predators with John Spartan and Simon Phoenix.

John Spartan knitting me a red sleeveless kimono.

Addition Sign

Simon Phoenix is such a good name Nick Cage is fucking furious he was not in this movie.

Plus

Little Known Fact: Falcor was fired from the Rock-afire Explosion for railing to much coke.

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Murdered Predator. I don't take spines and skulls though. I collect stamps.

It’s better than my alternate dreamality.

Shivers.

+

Damnit, I thought you were sleeping

Now my shrink has to figure out what is wrong with me.  Good Luck Billy Crystal.

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AWESOME SONG OF THE DAY

Rock-afire explosion Covering Usher and Young Jeezy

Love in this Club

 

 

GUEST WRITING AWESOMENESS: BUSKET O CHEESEBALLS!

Yeah, I use the word busket instead of bucket.  Fuck you, I’ll cut you.  Oh sorry, I didn’t mean for us to get off on the wrong foot. I’m guesting writing for today’s column.  If you’re wondering  I’ve tied Senior Johnson up, and dropped him in a hole in the woods.   Which means the only different thing than any other weekend is he’s tied up instead of peering through binoculars at wee lads on their cub scout camping trips.  Either way, he’s in the woods, and  it always ends up with someone using a Swiss Army Knife to get free.  Have you ever heard a British person say binoculars?  It’s great.

I want to spend my few minutes of fame with Mr. Johnsons readers to explain my love for something so awesome it gets put in a big ol’ busket.

BUSKET O CHEESE BALLS!

MY IDEA OF A SUPER BOWL POT-LUCK, EXCEPT SOME ASSHOLE BROUGHT A FOOTBALL INSTEAD OF A BUSKET O CHEESE BALLS

I tend to stay away from buskets as much as possible.  Nothing good happens when a busket is needed.  Mopping floors, painting, milking cows, and pooping(my toilet is currently broken).  Its just too much work.  That is until I found out about the busket o balls, cheeseballs.  For only about 6 dollars at your local warehouse superstore, you get a shit ton o balls.  Approximately 1440-2 million cheeseballs are in every busket, so it is indeed, work.  Especially when you’re trying to finish it in one sitting!  I know its going to make me sound like quite the sissy boy Nancy, but I have only finished 84% of my buskets in one sitting.  Yeah I keep cheeseball stats.  What’s it to you? I remember my 10^thas well as my 10,000^th cheeseball.    I’m the AC Green of Cheeseballin, I’m cute as a button, have played the game for 27 years, and no one really will remember me.

 

6 PACK OF CORONA AND BUSKET O CHEESEBALLS? YOU’RE GOING TO NEED MORE TOILET PAPER!

Have you ever heard Journey, and it sounds really Journeyish?  Almost like Journey is making fun of Journey?  That has nothing to do with cheeseballs, but you’re welcome.  Back to the fun part of those cheesy globes of the Gods.

“But Ironhead?  What’s with your fingers getting all orangey?”  you may ask Craig “Ironhead” Heyward.  “Those are motherfucking morsels of goodness waiting for your tongue to lick off your fingers foo!”  is probably the response you would get.  But you can’t have that conversation.  He’s dead.  So dead. RIP Ironhead.  I know what’s with that thingy.  Cheesy fingers just are a by product of deliciousness balls o cheese.  Can’t count how many times I’ve woken up with orange residue on all my electronics.  So Orange.  If you’re a lady coming over for a late night, expect that your titties are going to have orange handprints.  So orange.   I’d be lying if I said my penis has never been covered in orange powder after a lil me time.  So Orange.  It’s a rule that you cannot wash your hands after consuming said product. Always brings a smile to my face to see the awkward places I have laid my mark in cheesiness.  These balls are perfect for being thrown into your mouth by another.  Better take shooting those balls seriously.  Best believe if you’re chucking cheesethrows(my cheesy replacement for freethrows) like Shaq, and none are landing in my mouf, that you gonna get slapped.  Handprint on face. So Orange.

 

THIS SHIT WILL MAKE YOU A GODDAMN SEXUAL TYRANNOSAURUS

Little known fact is that the entire movie Predator was financed by cheeseballs.  Everyone knows the scene where Jessie “The Body” Ventura spits chewing tobacco on a shoe, and says “This stuff with make you a goddamn sexual tyrannosaurus”. It was originally supposed to be “Blaine” hocking a big ol orange cheeseball loogie. Rumor has, in the end, that is all the Predator was after was Blaine’s busket o cheeseballs.  All of this was pulled of course, when scientists discovered that eating cheeseballs ACTUALLY MAKES YOU A GODDAMN SEXUAL TYRANNOSAURUS.

Yup.  That’s really all I got.  Til next time I want to spend 10 minutes of my work day commandeering this blog, have a Rauwesome afternoon.

 

-Ra Uni

AWESOME SONG OF THE DAY

I’m all out of cheeseballs, thus, I must cry…cry like the temptations would want me to.

Temptations- I Wish It Would Rain

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