January 2010
13 posts
No time for screwing around, Doug. Kyle’s record is coming out! (available for preorder now at www.aspecialthing.com/store/)
The smell? Funny story, Doug. I put a bunch of old batteries in the fridge to give ‘em a little oomph, right? Then I figured I’d speed up the process by putting them in the freezer. Well, I forgot about them until today so I tried thawing them out in the oven. Would’ve been fine but I got caught up in this TJ Hooker marathon and then dozed off. I’m sure it’s okay....
These kidnapper types usually only want one thing. You’re gonna have to blow one of them. Because I can’t, Doug. I have that jaw thing where my mouth only opens so much. It would make them mad if it was all teeth. We can’t make them mad.
I’m telling you, Doug, these satan ritual things are the best places to get laid. There’s the whole “virgin sacrifice” feeling in the air so you just hang out in the field and look for the girls trying disqualify themselves beforehand. Wear the robe, don’t wear the robe—I don’t give a shit. Pass me that cologne.
All killer bees are honey bees, but not all honey bees are killer bees, Doug. Mathematically, it doesn’t make sense to be a pussy about it. Well, I already bought the kit and the jumpsuit. Then eat your biscuits plain, Negator.
Why would I open the garage door if I’m trying to warm up the car, Doug? If I open the door, then the cold air gets in. If the cold air gets in, the car isn’t going to get warm, is it? Might as well blow your nose in that college degree of yours.
Well, Nikki Sixx came back from it and he was only a bass player. I’m a lead guitarist so spike it up. Then sell your fucking drums, Doug, because you’re no longer a member of The Dusk Pirates.
Anyone can tame a grizzly bear, Doug. Shit’s hack. But a polar bear? I hope you’re not too uncomfortable sleeping on that bed of money I just made for us.
Red wine and night swimming, Doug. It’s like the baptism I never had. Amen!
Special Forces? Christ, more like Special Olympics. I haven’t seen eyes that close together since I went trout fishing. See, Doug, I told you he was retarded. Look how he’s trying to hug me now. Whoa, hold on a second there, big fella. That’s starting to hurt.
Gastric bypass is for the lazy and the undetermined, Doug. I just keep this old belt tight under my ribs.
Doug, I’m scared. I bit down and broke a thermometer. I didn’t mean to, but my jaw just clenched up when I applied the other one rectally. Because I always get a second opinion when it comes to my health, Doug. You know that! Get me some bread, see if we can’t soak up some of this mercury.
“Yakuza?” I don’t care what kind of motorcycle he drives, Doug. I’m starving and Wong Foo over here can probably whip up a wicked orange chicken if he decides to get off his ass. Of course it’s a restaurant. Because, Doug, it’s run by a chinaman and it’s not a dry cleaners. Process of elimination.