'Cause he's the antichrist.

I type shit when I drink. So the fuck what. Who are you to fucking judge me. Don't judge me monkey.

We don't need no water, let the waffles in the toaster on the countertop burn. Burn mother-ego's, burn. I have no topics of which I desire to speak about. Yeah, I just tried to think of one. Here's a topic, my air conditioning just turned on. Let's talk about our good ol' fellah A/C. He's a pretty cool guy. Comes over to your house and is all like, "Is it hot as fuck here?". And you're like, astute observation A/C Slater, how would you like to remedy the situation? And he says "I'll make your house cold, but you have to pay a metric butload of money every month for me." And I say, well, that sounds like a pretty good deal, minus the assload of cash. And he says, "Just do it you fucking pussy". So you have A/C cooling your house, but you also have an assload less of money every month. And since I get paid only two assloads a month, it's like he's taking a quarter of my assloads. I'm pretty much done addressing my pay in assloads. Once upon a time, someone told me an assload was 250 dollars, and that he checked. I took his word for it. So if anyone ever offers you an assload of money, and you have to make a decision whether or not whatever you were going to do was worth an assload of money, simply reason it against 250 dollars. Because I'm pretty sure that's how much it is.

Phase 2.

Phase 2 consists of me figuring out what's wrong with the split-tails in our society. If you ever wanted the be all, end all description of what's wrong with them... this is not your camel. And by camel, I mean animal. And by animal I mean, did you ever play drums for the muppet babies. Hey, it happens.

Phase 4.

This phase is about how to skip Phase 3. Mission Complete.

Phase 5.

This is the phase where I lose all motivation to type in this forgotten piece of shit fucking blog. And then post a youtube video.

Fucking success dot com. Over.