Monday, June 30, 2008

For the ages

There's definitely not nothing I would rather do than say here now another word to you. But should you err before I wake, I pray our food the sky shall take. For should we slake our thirst today, this time o should we should we pay the remittance of our soul's delight; I wish I would, I should and might be of that breed who sees the past as nothing not more than that that's passed and wind of fire, waves of heat will meet again to char my meat.

By MK

Thursday, June 26, 2008

America'S got Talent

MEATY Reception... Guarntees a strong signal Whenever Nature Calls....


     

For he's a jolly good fellow

Wednesday, June 25, 2008

Monday, April 28, 2008

Wednesday, April 23, 2008

Quick thoughts

music, art, consciousness, grime, crunk, manicures, vh1, macs, tight jeans
parties, good books, newportbeach bitches who know how to live
hemmingway southerngothic seltzer boots sand bunnyfur running leather
workout tapes gold bumping bass nikes febreeze creamcicles featherbed
air horses clubbing congolese dance peace

Friday, April 18, 2008

Zdarlight REMIX


Aerobicise



Took me a bit longer to appreciate


Georgia born soul singer



libido driven liveliness



Escort: "All Through the Night"

Just Two Guys

Spanish pop and classic hip hop beats



1977


Tuna melt

Ingredients

• 8 oz Italian tuna packed in olive oil, drained, with 1 tbsp oil reserved
• Charred-rosemary mayonnaise (see below)
• 1/8 cup celery hearts, finely chopped
• 1/2 tsp celery seed
• Coarse salt and ground black pepper
• 4 slices multigrain bread
• 4 slices (about 4 oz) Gruyère cheese
• Unsalted butter

Method

Gently flake tuna and place in stainless-steel bowl. Fold in desired amount of mayo, chopped celery, and celery seed, adding salt and pepper to taste. Lay bread on work surface. Spread tuna on two slices and layer with Gruyère. Top with remaining bread slices and press lightly with the palm of your hand to bring tuna just to the edges of each sandwich. Melt a small amount of butter in a skillet over low heat and toast sandwiches until cheese melts and bread is golden brown, about 2 minutes on each side. Transfer to cutting board and cut in half on diagonal. Serve immediately.

Charred-Rosemary Mayonnaise

• 2 stalks fresh rosemary
• 4 cups water
• 1 tsp white vinegar
• 1 large egg, cracked
• 2 tbsp fresh lemon juice
• 1 tsp Dijon mustard
• 3/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• Reserved tuna oil

Lightly char rosemary (hold stems with tongs and rotate through burner flame for about 10 seconds), strip leaves, and finely chop (yields about 1 tbsp). Bring 4 cups water to boil, reduce to simmer, and add vinegar. Ease egg into water, cooking until whites set but yolk is still runny, about 2 minutes. Transfer egg (as dry as possible) to blender (or bowl of food processor) with lemon juice and Dijon mustard. Slowly add oils, processing until thick and creamy. Add rosemary. Makes about 1 cup.

La Pequena Prohiba- AAAAAAHHHHHH

Mookie getting weird at the tail gate

See more funny videos at CollegeHumor

Paxilback

I used to have a coke problem. Every time I did it I wanted to sing karaoke.

Gold chains and Chest hair

Berns transparent friend

Dr. Steve Brule

A few terms you wish you never knew.

Alabama Hot Pocket- The Alabama Hot Pocket is a special fetish maneuver that roughly involves taking a shit into a woman's vagina, typically followed up by a good ole fuckin'. The term "Alabama" originated from a lesser known, but crucial additional practice that involves "Porky Piggin'" the female who has recieved the Hot Pocket. In Alabama, you see, good old redneck boys, when bored, would fuck pig troughs or large, wet piles of mud. To properly perform the Porky Piggin' follow-up procedure, one must take a massive shit onto the vagina WITHOUT spreading the lips. This creates a core that enters the woman, and then dregs that explode out all over her. By randomly stabbing with the cock, one will successfully Porky Piggin' the girl... repeating, naturally, the action that would normally be associated with screwing a pile of mud or animal trough.

Rusty Trombone- The act of performing anal cunnilingus while reaching up above the testicles to manually administer quick up and down motions to the penile shaft; resulting in a violent yet pleasant explosion. It is then customary for the female to then give a quick blow into the anus for good luck, the lips blowing into the anus sounds very similar to a trombones sweet melody. This was introduced to the Americas in the late 50's.

Birmingham Booty Call- Put your woman's cell phone on vibrate, stick it up her ass, and as you are having sex, call her phone, have her shit it out, answer it, and talk dirty to you as you cum on her face.

Thursday, April 17, 2008

Boom Goes The Dynamite!

Panic attack on air...

Email addresses that are easy to remember.

Breakfast@Tiffany's.com

Weekend@Bernies.com

N@KingCole.com

F@Guyinalittlecoat.edu

Meetme@yourplaceataround6pmthursdaynightandwecantalkaboutyourlivingarrangements.org

Happy National High Five Day


For all your high five knowledge, stop by here: http://www.nationalhighfiveday.com/

First thing that comes to peoples' minds after they shit their pants...

The average individual: "Oh shit!"

The fisherman: "Oh shit!"

The professor: "Oh shit!"

The gritball: "Oh shit, I better do something about that soon."

Me: "Shit, shit, shit... Wait whose pants are these?"

The old gentleman at the nursing home: "Great... I'll finally get some human interaction."

The pants: "Yo asshole. Go sit on a toilet. That's the third time you've shit on me this week."

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Prof Klickberg-Tres Tard

I've done it--I left the house, after a long lunch, with my computer laptop briefcase in order to appear to my stepmom (and my dad when I come back in with it dutifully slung across my chest and right shoulder) that I actually have something of consequence to do. No, I've nothing to do except for waiting in my parked car at the Dana Point Harbor, writing this, "preparing" to listen to the rest of Disc Two of that Truman Capote-sounding faggot Dave Sedaris reading his stories, and possibly reading the Van Gogh Letters Vol. Three, all the time waiting for a phone call from the SC TIMES and from Jesse who needs me to do some stuff for our fledgling clothing line. Oy. I wonder if this is how Daniel Johnston ever felt. Although, he had a job at McDonald's, didn't he? That possibly kept his busy.

I am going to regret these days when I'm an old man. These days of no consequence, of no progress, or of no production. Day in and day out, I accomplish nothing, I see no one but the black-haired, doe-eyed barista at Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf round 4pm. I drive, I read, I watch a movie during my makeshift lunch. I wake up late, I take my time. This grows weary. I grow enervated with the Nothing of these tired, stilted days. Stale, stultified, and sickly. O, what am I doing with myself? This waiting for what? If only I had a friend, a confidant with whom to spend my endless hours... If only...

[I want this to go FASTER. This is not going fast enough. I want everyone to know who I am already; I want there to be NO QUESTION.]

Treehugger