Happy trails to you, until we meet again

Ya know what gets me? South asks me to update because he’s sooooo busy whoring it up in Tampa, and yet two seconds after I put that Hottcops banner up yesterday, he was re-routing the link to his Southern Bukkake site. Somebody has control issues. But I knew he had to leave that damn hotel room sooner or later…

Wow. Wouldn’t this stick in your craw? A man gets a giant tattoo of his wife’s face on his back, only to find out she’s having an affair. He should have gotten that tat placed a little lower, perhaps across both cheeks.

A Pittsburgh woman is suing K Mart because they charged her tax on toilet paper. They overcharged her twice, for a total of 56 cents. She is suing for $100 and court costs. How do you figure that 56 cents = $100? Frankly, I’m surprised she didn’t sue for an extra $1000 for “pain and suffering”. What a crappy deal. Take this up with the K Mart Corporation, don’t clog up the legal system even more.

It’s bad enough the costs of gas and food are outrageous, now the price of cocaine is on the rise! The average price of a gram rose 24%. Good grief. What’s an addict to do? We need some sort of gub’ment assistance program for this. Cocaine stamps, perhaps?

I read in the paper that a woman in New Yawk tried to sell her baby for $25k. I had no idea kids were going for that much these days. With 16 offspring, I am sitting on a veritable gold mine! Course that was a newborn. I guess ya get more for them because they don’t have any bad habits yet. On the downside, though, they’re not housebroken.

And did you read about the man in Boston who won the wife carrying contest? They competed against 40 couples on a 278 yard course. He wins his wife’s weight in beer–a cruel irony, huh?–and five times her weight in cash. Mr. G and I entered a wife carrying contest once. We made it about three inches before he collapsed. Personally I blame him. Him and his damn skinny, underdeveloped leg muscles.

Well, I’ve really enjoyed my stay here at Casa de So—oh, that’s right, I’m not in Georgia, am I? I’m still in my dumpy little trailer living my dumpy little life. I should have recognized the stench of despair. On second though, that’s not despair I smell. Male Offspring #8 just pooped his pants. I’m outtie.

10940cookie-checkHappy trails to you, until we meet again

Happy trails to you, until we meet again

Share This

Leave a Reply