You are the ketchup on my french fries…
You are the ice in my tea…
You are the mustard on my sandwich…
I found out the other day that neematoads, or “nematodes” as they are actually spelled, really do exist. Imagine that. Some kind of parasitic microorganisms or some such malarkey. Have their own phylum and everything, the little buggers.
Now I’ve been assistant principal of the local elementary school for the past sixteen years. The rulebooks say there’s no such thing as neematoads and that’s how they’re gonna stay! I’ve got a tight psychological grip on every preteen in Bluffington, and if this little nelly slips out it’ll only be a matter of time before they discover I’ve killed the principal.
I really don’t like beets very much.
I’m tired of being the only blue kid in this town. No one understands my people’s culture. My people’s music. I have to act like such a blueberry to fit in. You know, blue on the outside, purple on the inside. Last Beetvember was Blue History Month. Mrs. Wingo didn’t even mention it. I’m thinking about starting a local chapter of the Blue Barracudas.
Last week, Skunky Beaumont called me a caerulegger, so I put a cigarette out in his eye. Honk Honk, motherf**ker!
so i wuz walkin around friday nite waitin to appear at the perfect moment to put down funnie and his litle friends when I realize hey. i’m 19 yrs old and i spend all my time pickin on 6th graders?? so i drive over to this party on lucky duck lane and i have like 8 beet cidars and long story short i think i had sex with funnie’s sister. maybe. i flunked sex ed like seven times so cant be sure! hahaha!
i mis my father.
there is no mr. wingo. I AM MR. WINGO!
I hate beets. They’re gross.
I’ve never liked the name Porkchop.
You are the pickles in my coleslaw…
You are the sugar in my tea…
You are the relish on MY HOT DOG…
I think my wife’s cheating on me. We made love last night, as we do on every third Thursday, and she was more passive than usual. And I’d even brought out my velour and nylon Sexsuit 9000 with the vibrating gloves! (Very expensive)
Lately she’s been “going to visit her mother” more and more often. Now I may be crazy and inattentive, but I know she hasn’t spoken to her waspy parents since we were married! (Very anti-Semitic)
I tried hiring the neighbor boy to act as a private detective. But he’s just been running around the woods, wearing a cape and talking to himself. I know I should take matters into my own hands, but I’m very non-confrontational, unlike the IRS. I guess I’m just going to beat off to the Sharper Image catalogue and wait for Tippy to come home. (Very depressed)
Moonday slips into Truesday, but memories slip back into Fryday night…
Drank beer until belligerent
Drank vodka until violent
Drank absinthe until absent
Yellow matter custard, dripping from a dead dog’s eye.
I think I’m getting fat. I do not know why…
You are the icing on my cupcake…
You are the batteries in my camcorder…
You are the scratches on my arm…
You are the blood of my righteous angel of vengeance…
Also, I am Quailman.
When is Doug going to realize I’m a lesbian?
I fucking HATE beets!
Vote for me! Vote for me! If they don’t vote for me, I’m selling this whole town to Disney! Serious? You bet I am! Vote for me!
so on photo swap day i called that blue kid “skeet face!” i didnt realize what i’d sed til later… hahahahaha!
my cats pink cuz i dont feed it rite.