Thursday, August 9, 2007

there's always nothing much to say

thanks j dot mascis. thanks for everything. like puppies and spring time, and that annoying little kid across the street who says only the letter d. but he owns that letter.

since i haven't posted in a bit, here's the news in brief.

chapter one.

i still hate everyone. everyone.

chapter two.

after not hearing from my fabulous family in nearly two [blissful] months, dear old drunken mom checked in yesterday. only now, with the aid of my little orphan annie decoder ring, a box of cracker jacks, and some mind-expanding nail polish remover fumes, am i beginning to suss out what the hell she was mumbling and drooling about in an oddly high-pitched voice.

the first few letters spelled out genius dad's most-recent brilliant idea: painting their house. for those who don't know, the genius is not in the best of shape or health, and shouldn't be anywhere near activities more strenuous than having a poo. and for those who don't know of my parents' incredible sense of style, their house is a study in bland. every wall, inside and out, is the same shade of beige. no, mum, there aren't any hints of green or blue or yellow in them there walls, they's all beige, kind of like your personality. yeah, so, the genius picked the hottest day of the year (so far), rented himself a cherry picker, and bought all the battleship gray paint in the state of new hampshire. in the immortal words of the gap band, the genius got down on it, and painted the house the loveliest shade of gray. interesting note: dad hates gray. apparently, in the heat, he lost 20 lbs and 13 of his remaining 42 brain cells. go dad!

the next couple of letters are debatable, but i'm leaning toward the suggestion that mum is less than thrilled about her 50-somethingth birthday (i'm such a great son that i can't remember which anniversary of her luminous birth it will be), which will occur on friday. hey, if you're in the area, pop your head into that bbq place in bitchin slummerville, i'm sure you'll witness a real hootenanny. we'll be that group who's staring at the walls, the ceiling, the floor, hell, at anything but each other, and we won't be speaking. fun, fun, fun. ugh.

chapter three.

the end.

7 comments:

sidemouse said...

do you hate your wife?

Lord Fondleberries said...

le bruce bruce: i see your point. let me answer by saying that i didn't type this post. in fact, i never typed any of the posts on this site. i don't know who did. if you have any clues, please go fuck yourself.

have a nice day,

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Shi'quolonda said...

My labia are swollen and leaking a rude, grey pus.

Anonymous said...

J Mascis does not use a "dot" in his name.

Lord Fondleberries said...

shi'quolonda: that's a lovely irish name you have. as for your labia, i am sorry. well, no, i'm not.

anonymous: get me a bucket.

Taco Mel said...

I hope your nuts swell with gangrenous pus and then pop in your mother's curious face.

sidemouse said...

fag