It’s about that time … MJM
Where we blow the blog snot and brains out of the lethargic and languid chumps and sitting ducks in tights …
Where we hail the misunderstood, who never leave the piss-soaked sofa …
Where we make the superficial less trivial … Tedious …nauseous...such as idiots on Tv (If you thought I’m ass-wiping about TopTv, you prejudiced bastard! I would but then no-one would care, and neither is the index finger straight out of the asshole pointing to DStv).
Besides …
Who needs repellent potty Tv when you can write better scripts than monotonous 7de Laan, …
Whether in droning English, tiresome Afrikaans or all the other anonymous and mind-numbing 9 official languages which we’ll never get to speak or care less about …
Furthermore …Blogs …Blogs …Blogs …
How did this fixation like a broody female whom writes repetitive jazz about her 5th kid which makes her tinkle, come into existence?
The idea probably, afterwards most certainly without even having to do a tinkle or baseline assessment to test the loyalties of already sour gr-apes, where you undecidedly droned with constipation regarding fight/flight …
Subsequently with no pardons, the idea was to counter the pony romanticism journalism in the A[rg]n-us.
Enough said about redundant things. Alas …A new escapade has coiled to the surface to make the barefaced bunion acceptable, like Muse, more significantly Matt Bellamy.
Here’s to a rotten-fruitful escapade, where blogging puts into action a conception to speak sensible doo-doo thankfully to a tarnished theoretical scheme such as the buffed constitution.
But please …This doesn’t mea that you should whine about Jesus or gossip like a perished-rotten-toothed jabber jaw, as this is not your orthodox masquerade Sabbath recital nor a Tupperware party …
Cheers, although no beers, but laughter to last a thousand years. Feel free to mail your obnoxiously-opinionated-potty-bolt from the blue-lames less (unlike cool-aid Roberts) articles to she0and0him@gmail.com, as you are free to potty on this lawn.
Mi casa es su casa, Adíos conocido/as
Lastly, don’t bother trying to sniff our vasectomy panties on Facebook or Twitter as the writer chooses to remain anonymous, for reasons of having Jesus’ abs and Brad Shits face
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