There’s not much that can be done about it.

Hey, when mistress Natty Lite comes a knocking, baby I answer the door!



However, I want you all to know that my drunkedness will NOT affect the quality (HAHAHAHAHAHA) of my posting, no, not even a teeny tiny monkey pube’s worth.

So how was everyone’s weekend? Did you get laid? Watch a movie? Do lots of good dope?

Mine wasn’t too bad. We got our first big storm of the year including a tornado. I wish it had happened during the day, as I have a buddy who is a storm chaser, and sometimes I ride along. It's cool. It’s just like going riding around with a cop, except instead of chasing drug dealers, burglars, and big tittied hos, we chase big crazy tornados which can create suction and wind forces well in excess of the one hundred mile per hour range.



Hmmm. Now that I think about it, I know a few big tittied hos who can do the same thing, so maybe it’s not THAT different than riding around with the cops after all.

Anyway, the storms were out and about Saturday and Sunday. The storm prediction guys had a super cell tracked and heading my way, but I wasn’t worried. My little piss-ant po-dunk town was though. They blew the civil defense sirens and you should have seen the people get the fuck out of dodge. They fucking split! You’d have thought Rosie O’Donnell was dancing through the neighborhood naked, globs of fat bouncing and shimmering hypnotically in the strobe like effect of the lightning strikes, while fat Britney and greasy Kevin follow closely behind, happily licking the shit-stains out of her rancid fart hole.




I have to tell you, if all that was going on, I'd have left too. But that wasn’t the case. All we had was a tornado on the way, and although I do have recurring dreams about them, I am not afraid. You see, when I was a young zombie I was taught by an old medicine man how to handle the storms. He told me that if I found a stump, and drove an axe into it, the storm would split and go around. Unfortunately, I don’t have a stump anywhere handy or an axe, so that plan was definitely out.

I do have a kickass plan b though, and this is what I do. I go outside and look in the general direction the storm is coming from. Then I glare at it really mean. I shake my fist. Then I point my pointy finger of doom (I learned this trick from a special friend) at the storm and yell things like, “You call yourself a storm? I’ve seen queefs that were louder and windier than you! Is that all you got storm? Is that all? I hope it’s not, because I am going to fist you right in that big fat funnel cloud cunt. I’m going to smack you around for bringing that weak shit in here, because I’m the Juggernaut Bitch!”



This works every time, and I have yet to have any tornados take me up on my challenge. They always veer off like the craven pig nipples that they are. It’s just as well really, as I’d rather save up my energy for more productive tasks, like binge drinking, giving people the herp, and digging up shocking secrets about Flange Simpson.

We got some hail though. It was about the size of the big marbles. I think they are called shooters. I’m not positive on this, as I wasn’t born in 1935. Sorry. I picked up a handful and took a picture that I was going to post, because the hail was cool, but my stupid camera is the suck and the picture turned out looking like baboon ass.

So no picture of the hail for you, do not piss go, do not fuck for two hundred dollars.

And that was pretty much my weekend.

Burppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp!