Friday, October 07, 2005

injunuity....


Fuck you, Cleveland Indians.









Jerks. Jerky dumb dummy heads. Thanks a lot fuckers. Not only did I waste a bunch of money on tickets, booze and whores last weekend, but because of those ass hats I ended up in the clink. Now, I've done hard time before and a little trip up river is normally no big deal. It was just really inconvienent. Although, I met a young man who just might make one hell of linebacker if he can beat that murder rap he was brought in on. I got some ink, kept my exit an exit and stabbed a puerto rican pimp in his spleen with a shiv that I made out of a toothbrush. Jim Tressel will NOT be any man's bitch. I kind of miss the constant wamth and security of little stevie's hand always in my back pocket, though. Sweet, sweet little angel faced stevie, i called him sugar beacause he gave it up so sweet (I sold him the day i got out for two cartons of cigs and a candy bar). Have you ever been wasted on prison hootch? Its fucking amazing. I was so fucked up, I think that I hallucinated that I was the jolly green giant right before I choked that cop with his swiny belt. You can learn a lot of new things in the old push push. A young man named Cockroach taught me how to make a grilled cheese sandwich with an iron, a paper bag and a llittle patience. He aslso taught me how to kill a man with a spoon.
How did I end up in such a pickle, you might ask? Legally i'm not supposed to say anything about the circumstances leading up to the four county car chase, the "big" explosion at that stupid "power plant" or the mexican stand off that I held at that jehova's witness temple (what a bunch of uptight, self rightious assholes) but long story-short. When you are really really pissed off like I was this past weekend (fuck you Wedge) it's generally a bad idea to put a professional athlete in a choke hold on national television. Catch ya on the flip-flop bitches!

5 Comments:

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12:03 PM  
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12:03 PM  
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2:01 PM  
Anonymous Trojan Condoms said...

Pete Carroll here. Coach Pete Carroll. No man's bitch? I seem to remember someone having more than a little trouble holding on to the soap in the shower. No matter how hard you tried, no man wanted to go near a moon with that many red craters on it. And they still don't.

This includes me.

Stop calling. Stop sending me pictures of your pimply ass. Stop dressing up like a British school girl and trying to get into the LA Coliseum. I'm sorry if Bubba from the joint doesn't call you any more, but don't come after me. Carroll doesn't swing that way. Even if I did, I'm burried too deep in uber-hot cooch to do anything about it. The ho's love it when you're #1.

Enjoy being #15, bitch.

12:28 PM  
Blogger Best Vest said...

Pete, Petey, Little confused Peter. It was a cruel joke that your parents named you "peter" and you barely even have one. That would be like me knocking some broad up, then she craps out a kid with no legs and I chose to name him "legs" or speedy. You can go ahead and call me bitch all day you wife allway calls me #1 (and often). and fuck you too, Paterno I'd fuck your wife but I'd need to invent a time machine and set it back 97 years to make it woth it, you old WOP.

2:07 PM  

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