I'm a comedy genius! A-booyah! So Dooley was pretending to play golf - I know, right? - and then I said he was jerking off. Mark burped and it sounded like he puked a bit, in his mouth. And we all laughed, and Dooley's pants were suggesting something un rigourous, blogosphere
Fuck you,
love Mark
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Hoooo!
I've had a motherfucking BRAIN explosion, boys, and turns out I've got a few things to get the damn off my chest. You all better pay attention, cos this is a NEW forum, a NEW format, right ready to take over the 'airing of grievances' BULLSHIT.
Oh, DAMN yes!
Here it is, for all of y'all, my 'confessions of a chieflympian'
1. I'm crap. Totally, ball-crunchingly crap. Umm, don't know what else to say on this point, really...umm, my manner of speech is crap, the way I tie my shoelaces, that's crap, um, the way I whistlse, all pursed lips and shit. Totally crap. Ever seen me pour a glass of milk? If you have, you'll know what i'm thinking...Crap! Don't even get me started on how crap my knowledge of emergency bomb procedures and the like is. Cos it's crap. I may return to this point later, see how I go.
2. All the things I told you all about sleeping with matron etc. is a LIE! Or, alternatively, it's all HORRIBLY TRUE! Whichever one is more incriminating. Take your pick.
3. The following are NOT words: sonify, sonification, sonorific.
The following ARE words: turgid, turbid, turbidity, turgidness, franken-sonify, franken-sonification-gate.
4. I did NOT invent the following things:
Chieflypmic cheers, pdf files, Oz, Minkowski space, the will to live.
5. I'm actually a fucking lightweight when it comes to booze. So called 'myhtical drinking abitility' is all mith, no pith. Because that rhymes, it must be true. This '35-40 standard drinks a day' conceals (poorly) a Freudian Oedipul complex, an anal stage regression and also a love of, i dunno, ducks. Is ducks lame enough? No, scratch ducks. I have a deep, throbbing, glistening love of...bathroom pot pourri products. Which makes me, miraculously, both a fag and a girl.
6. I wear a suit, poorly. I've only come to accept this now, as hitherto I've conned myself into thinking I look dapper and all go-get-em-tiger. Because I am a fag and a girl (see above) I don't know even why I wear suits.
7. I have NEVER passed out on someone's floor. Although, because this alternates between being a point of pride and a point of shame, at some moments it will inexplicably become a fact that I have NEVER NOT passed out on someone's floor (this paradox is rather like 2, above).
8. My diary, 'weasel words' is not funny. Never has been, never will be. Same goes almost for Al Fraenken, althought slightly less so.
9. My X-box is really my only friend. This is why I have to hurt it so fucking much, because of my deep self-loathing (see points 1-8 above, 10-15 below), and cos also I only have the cajones to attack innocent things which can't fight back. Also, x-boxes have the word 'box' in them, and are therefore kinda effeminate so it's like I'm beating on women.I'm a fucking sicko!
10. I've never attended a university in my life.
11. "University" of Wollongong certainly doesn't qualify. Believe me.
12. Although I claim to despise learning and academia, turns out I loves the shits. Oh, yes. You heard right - I LOVE IT! All my life I've LONGED to shout that from rooftops. Instead, I just piss off them. Whenever I feel as though society has turned its head for a moment, I take that opportunity to consult my academic betters, devoid of irony, and I throw myself at their feet, begging them for book reccomendations, tutoring, largesse, anything to make me approach their lofty heights. Of course I never will - cos I'm crap and shit.
13. Although I claim to have musical ability, the little trick with the pedestrian beeping at traffic lights? Yeah, that's shit.
14. My abilities at bowling are none to speak of. In fact, turns out, bowling's totally boring, shit, lame and reserved only for old bigots and very, very fat people. 'Thinking bowlers' my arse, more like 'obese nazi fucks' or some shit like that. Also, whatever fun others may ever have had bowling in my presence, I'm aware they're faking it.
15. There is a particular other member of the ICM who is totally great awesome and mad. I won't tell you which one, but here's a clue: I'M SECRETLY SO IN LOVE WITH THIS STAND-UP GUY THAT I WANT TO MOVE IN WITH HIM. I have now accepted that this love is not mutual, and thus RETRACT my request for permanent living arrangements entirely. In fact, I plan from now on to live outdoors, on milkcrate-beds, so that passers-by may gawk, point, snigger and in general subject me at any moment, any time to the horrors of the 'airing of greivances' panel inquisition, and so that daily, hourly, minutely, I may SHOUT this list of confessions and others so that all the public may hear.
That is all for now.
love,
Mark
Post a Comment