When I launched this blog way back on that freezing cold night before heading out for drinks and drag reviews in late 2006, my intent was that it be the tin foil wrapping on the rabbit ear antennae that might just bring a bit of clarity to the snow-filled screen of the tv in the dingy, green shag-carpeted and plywood-paneled living room in my head. (Hey, I'm a run-on sentence. Yay me!) The idea was to make a happy little place for me to poop out tid bits of the insanity and inanity that comprise my life. Openly. Anonymously. And perhaps even somewhat truthfully.
But it would appear that now it's become, quite simply, a steaming pile of virtual poop. So, I'm taking this post to re-invent my blog.
That's right bitches, it's Buggery 2.0, and it's fucking on! Yeeeeaaaaawwwww! There'll be more buggery than Sean Connery's slurring cock has ever seen. There'll be more Fondling than Michael Jackson at a day care center. There's going to be more fucking Lord than Jesus fuck me right in the metal plate in my head Christ himself. Oh yeah! There's going to be so much superawesomefantasticawesomeness you'll think you got skull fucked and died, then fell into a bed of yummy tropical fruit-flavored skittles.
Actually, no, there won't be any of that. I'm not reinventing anything. Because I simply couldn't give a flying fat fuck. And to do so would cut clinically significantly into drinky drinky time, and there will certainly be none of that. So, fuck all that.
Hey, if a retard fell off the short bus, will I still like cake?