You Make Kitty Scared!

Annual Post

High & dried, tire rubber starts burning
Fill her up now before the table starts turning
Souped up, jacked up, cracked up, stacked up
Louie's got the gear
And Charlie's got his back up
And don't it make you feel good?


As most of you know, I stay pretty busy. On the recommendation of someone near and dear to the most nether-regions of my recently fabricated heart-valve, I took another position. One which requires 40-hours of drooling. Someday, I'll get my comeuppance. Someday my prince will come. Somwhere, over the rainbow, yes I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

Days turn into nights turn into weeks turn into months another year has gone by and I haven't posted. Its not that I don sincerely love each and every one of you individually (and yes, given half the chance I would "love" you know, some of you, individually...just keep that in mind) but motsly I don't give you fuckers half a thought. I'm a busy man after all.

Says she's a dirt box
You're like a cannibal
Somebody feeds her, sure ain't the State Farm
Who buys the tickets and who buys the clothes
Puts the liquor in her stomach and the powder up her nose
Move. That's right
And don't it make you feel good?


So I've decided to post here annually, and here's why: Nothing I've said or done is different that anything I said or did last year. Why bore you, my FL, with these details? And I'm not meteroligist, but I think we've got a 100% chance of nothing significant happening in the next 12-months either. I may just change the date on this post next year and resubmit.

At least I haven't been ass-raped this year.

Don't mind me honey
I'm just looking
Smelt your chicken
And I watched you cooking
Souped up, jacked up, cracked up, stacked up
You're a bad stain
And you need to be cleaned up...

And don't it make you feel good?


So go back to your bars, your temples, your massage parlours...
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You Make Kitty Scared!

(no subject)

I'm just getting sick and tired of pathetic motherfuckers bitching day in and day out about their lives. GO DO SOMETHING! Lord knows I try. I try to be sensitive to others and open-minded to things that would normally make me retch because, well, we all need to get along.
  • Current Music
    Danzig
You Make Kitty Scared!

(no subject)

When the moon is in the Seventh House
I surround myself with chocolate bars
Then as I begin to eat them
I stare at my nakedness and marvel
I am a god of olympic proportions
Cut of stone I am
A god
A god

As soon as my belly starts to swell
And all my chocolate is gone
I lay myself in a circle
spread-eagled in the wrappers
And roll around on the floor
I am master of all I survey
Survey
Survey

When I drink the firewater
It burns my throat
I cannot be beaten
I will survive
Survive
Survive
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    Danzig
You Make Kitty Scared!

(no subject)

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You Make Kitty Scared!

(no subject)

I live on the back of a pick-up truck. The Old Man tied me here with a 3 ft. rope. Am I happy?

Sometimes he uses his fists-a. He's filled with anger and filled with rage, and tells me I smell like piss-a. His drink, Jimmy Beam. His chaser, a beer. After that, various alchohols. That's when the beatings get so severe, I sleep, I pray he falls.

He drank a pint of Old Grandad, and beat me like a side of beef.

Sometimes the neighborhood children stop by, but it's always rocks and beer bottles that they throw. They gather 'round to hear what I have to say. But I guess sometimes my stories go on too long, so they leave and giggle, I need a bidet.

But you know there was a night that I did get off the truck, when the Old Man was passed out drunk. Three neighborhood kids took me to a rock and roll concert. The kind of music? Old school funk.

It was the first time I'd been off the truck, the music made me lose control. The lead singer asked if we were having fun, I said, "fucking crank that rock and roll-a!" The women at the show were beautiful, as they danced sexily on the soft grass. Then some long-haired guys grabbed me and threw me in the mosh pit-a. They passed me around and treated me nice til I nervously sprayed them with shit-a. Then the music stopped. And everything was quiet. And all the rock and rollers started a fucking goat riot.

They chased me under the bleachers. They chased me onto the street-a. They chased me into an alley and said I was dead fucking goat meat-a. But the Old Man came and saved me. "I'm not your friend." he said, "I don't even like you. I'm just not drunk," he said. To prove his point, he drank a bottle of grain alchohol, and beat the fucking shit out of my head.
  • Current Music
    Milli Vanilli