I was thinking more along the lines of Morton's salt. It kills snails after all. Maybe some Tabasco too, it couldn't hurt.
Oh sweet Jesus fuck me running....it just got worse. A roving band of wild penises just came out of the woods. This will not end well...
I suppose we can be assured the vaginas don't have teeth, on account of their window climbing suction power and inability to hold onto their flashlights. What would make a vagina turn tail and run away? I don't know. Hopefully you can find something that'll make them cry... if they have any feelings at all. And now I see that there are giant dicks on the scene. Hm. Get the vaginas crying and hysterical and they won't approach.
*Peering between my blinds* Oh shit, oh fuck, oh my God! It's like a Roman slaughter. There's penises and vagina's all over my yard. The penises are bouncing on their balls and penetrating anything they can (One even tried to defile my pick up before I ran outside and beat it with a broom.) The 'giners are putting up one hell of a fight though. They're grouping together and mumbling amongst themselves and when one of the weaker penises comes over to investigate they devour it. It's truly frightening to watch. I'm not going back out there again, my yard has become a slippery, slimy, place I would rather not be. I know it didn't snow that much down here and I'm scared as to what that white stuff might be.
This is truly a frightening look into the mind of someone who needs to get laid. Edit: Time for some rum!
Jesus fucking Christ. I just got back from D.J.'ing a wedding in St. Thomas "where the girls get pregnant just by standing down wind from guys". I don't recall meeting so many stupid people in one place at the same time. "Mambo Number 5??! Are you kidding me?!!? 1999 called, it wants its virgin back!!" Thank God it's good money. Tonight really tested my resolve. I was starting to re-think my stance on handguns. EDIT: Are all of the white people that dance "like that" going to do the world a favour and die soon? It is amsuing at first (especially while high) but after 4 HOURS or so it begins to feel like Chinese water torture. Speaking of God, if you ever get invited to a Reformed Christian wedding, fake sick. Stab yourself in the hand. That ceremony was stultifying. My wedding ceremony lasted 11 minutes. This one was seventy-two. "O Lordy Lordy God Lord, You are holy, holy holy. Whoah, you are ONE holy God there, Lord!" What an evil place church is.
Why is it my girlfriend and I fight whenever we drink? I blame it on her low self-esteem, but there must be something else I can blame it on. Also, my grandpa is getting remarried in June. How can I tell my family that I really really really don't care because goddamn it she isn't my real grandma and I have obligations on the other side of the country.
Hey there, EinSTEEN - it was pretty QEEN of you to notice this. Quite frankly, I've got no truck with ya'll FAGnadians. Down here in USA-land we drink our drinks, snort our blow, and pop whatever pills come our way - and at the end of the night, sure, maybe one or two whores have been raped, some faggot got his asshole sodomized by us uber-str8 friends - but we all had good fun. Go hide in your igloo and vote for Obama, you socialist slag.
Tasting notes on Sergeant Major India Pale Ale: Hm. I'm not sure if this stuff counts as real IPA. It's good and all. Good bitter flavour, dark amber in colour, nice hoppy smell, and it's even high in alcohol for good measure... but the bitterness subsides; the aftertaste is pleasantly bitter, not scrape off the back of your tongue bitter. Not as bitter as Dogfish Head 60 minute IPA. Maybe the name sets it up for false expectations: most sergeant majors put the fear of god into you. I am currently not worried about having done something wrong. Tasting notes on Peroni Nastro Azzuro: Tastes considerably like the inside of the can it came from. In my defense, I didn't actually buy this. In other news, I have run out of space over my cabinets to display my beer bottles. I think I'll have to start on the windowsill now. I have 35 or so on display, and over 100 surplus tucked away in the corners of my apartment. Also, I have 6.5 litres of beer in my fridge. Uh huh.
Guess who's roommate rolled a fatty and smoked it with me? Mine. I'm pretty damn stoned. Music is fun.
FUCK. I hate this bitter, cold, filthy, salty hard-as-rock snow January winter thant only Canada can provide. It looks like the surface of the asteroid from Armageddon outside. It's football day, I still have beer, the daughter is still at her grandparents and somebody is bringin my food to ME. Thank GOD for weed, because after last night it's the only medicine that exists.
Woke up less than an hour ago, and have had 3 shots and over half a box of Cracklin Oat Bran. I am going to be taking a huge shit.
And a side of heart attack, jesus. I got up at 11:30. Holy shit am I hungover. Double fisting doubles of Jack last night may not have been the best idea. Wow. On a good note, drunk me is very caring and prepared sober/hungover me a giant feast to eat throughout the day. I've never made that big of a batch of stir fry in my life. The Ravens-Patriots game is putting me to sleep.
Gave into the temptation, eh? Imperial stouts seem to impart long-lasting headaches. Water, caffeine, Alleve, all have done nothing to help. So I've turned to Red Bull and Vodka. I'm feeling better already.