So many memories. My first drunk driving wreck, my first pregnancy freakout, and my first time accidentally shooting a passing car.So then I got back home and I found out you can't leave a fish tank outside. I put all the heat rocks in there or whatever but I guess the cold fucked up the ph value because all my crabs and sharks and shit were dead. Which depressed the fuck out of me so I drove over to Brown Jug and fucking bought myself six bottles of rich & rare like old times.
Called up Tara and she came over which was cool although she is getting fat. I told her better put down the pizza Precious, but then we started making out and I fingered her and then we did it on my kitchen floor. I was tore up anyway so that was okay. Like Tucker always said every bottle of R&R comes with a free fat girl pass. It was all cool.
Until two days later when I had the herpes on my lip. Not dick herpes though trust me ladies. None of that BS. Just the lip ones from Taras cooter. When I get drunk I'll lick anything and I guess I was licking sores and shit but that's just the sort of fucking shithole world I am in right now.
Fuck I am getting dizzy on this shit.
I would cool off at eager beavers but basically I don't even have enough singles left to make it rain at the dollar store.Anyway that shit leads to the fact that my rare parrot got out. I don't know why I fucking bought the stupid thing, all it does is scream all night and pull its feathers out so I put it in the bathroom and turned the shower on ran up like 500 dollars making it tropical for that complaining fucker. I did teach him to make the sound of me punching a hole in drywall although that was just a bonus to him shitting everywhere.
I bought a litter box for him and he just eats the rocks out of it and flies up and shits down the front of my refrigerator. You should have seen the bathroom door after he spent a day in there. It looked like some ninjas covered a big old stack of throwing stars with yogurt and went crazy. And parrot shit stinks, which is how my parrot escaped. Crack a window and this is how I get paid back? Whatever dude. You fucking want to fly around Alaska when it's 30 below be my guest you tropical fucker. You are dead as shit.
I was bummed so tried to call this model girl I know in New York named Minka (she's communist or some shit) but my calls just went straight to her voice mail. Then fucking Bristol talking to the media about needing child support from me for tripp like I'm a dead beat dad. Ruining my reputation and shit. With this sort of shit going on I'll be lucky if I don't get maced at eager beavers for asking for a lap dance.
So basically I had some R&R left over from that night I got mouth herpes and I just drank both bottles and polished off some vicodin my mom wanted me to mule to Canada and sell to the French Canadians. Fuck that black lodge shit. Like I'm gonna go out in the woods and shit out balloons full of pills when it's 10 below and some fat guy named Jean is standing next to me with a paper bag talking about one eyed jacks.
Have you ever killed anyone? "Yeah but they were all bad" - True Lies. Bad like me.Yeah so like I said this is my final column. This is it. I am fucking through with this and I'm moving on to whatevers next. Been reading some Buddhist shit I read about on the internet. I guess since I was good I will come back as like a serenest fucking hoot owl or some shit. Just some lactonic fucking owl squinting at fuckers and flipping my head around cause my neck doesn't give a fuck.
Mrs. palin Im sorry I said mean shit about your titties to that guy from E News. They didn't run it but word got around that you got them big arolas like dinner plates from all them fucking crazy nasty babies you had. I am sorry. Forgive me my sins.
Goodbye to everybody. Goodbye mom. Congratulations to everyone who fucked with me. You win.
Goodbye cruel bullshit.
I feel so dizzy. I feel...cold...
Is this screen the last thing I will see?
Sir Mix-a-Lot's classic follow up to "Baby Got Back" has serious unintended consequences.
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
Levi "HOckey" Johnston is a pro writer now and hockey expert since forever. He comments regularly on family life, politics, Alaska, hockey, vag, babies, babes, 4x4s, hunting, and stuff like that. Oh, yeah, and he was engaged to Bristol Palin and had one (two) kids with her, so...I can put anything here? He also fights like a devil and pounds poon like a demon. He's pretty much unbelievable. His life is a raw adventure to the root.