Jackie Stallone's Rumpology, submitted by Satan. Jackie Stallone is sort of weird in the same way that Aquaman sort of likes aqua. I knew she had some sort of collagen overdose in her lips and claimed to be psychic, but what I didn't know is that she studied photos of buttcheeks to glean the pocked expanses of the future.
Just as a print of your fingerprints, palms, soles, and ears tell a story, so does your rump. The lines, crevaces, and folds of your fanny, rear end for those of you in the UK, can, to the trained eye, reveal your personality, fate, and future in luck and love.
Someone call Guinness, I think the record has just been set for the most commas in one psychotic sentence. Apparently Jackie has been practicing rumpology for a while now, so forgive me if I'm behind the times on this particular incarnation of stupid.
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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