Funions

Yesterday's technicolor dreamcoat is tomorrow's agonizing defeat in lemonade-stand style excretions.

Embrace the jingle of the dog's collar. Engage in the cat's tinkling bell.

Embark.


Feel free to leave me some beautiful drug-induced poetry of your own. Rasta.

Old News

I know this is old news, but I was blog surfing and found these pictures of Taylor Hicks from high school. There are more down below if you scroll.

Anyway, so how's it going? I haven't blogged in a minute. Primarily because I've been busy combing the african jungle for wild purple tarantulas to bring back to my italian mob boss. I was due back two weeks from now, but returned early to go on a press junket for my recently published guide to female prostitution (for dummies).

P.S. - I hate big fly-eye-looking sunglasses. Especially on spindly little twig bitches.