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4/30/2004

Morning, dork nipples.
First off, look at my links to your right. Your right, dorknuts! That's your foot! Up, up, that's a bird! Why are you outside with a computer! Cave dork!
There you go. That political cartoon there is exactly like the joke I made at the begining of the week! Dorks Don't Rock is so cutting edge I just cut my fucking finger off! In fact, we're so razor sharp, suicide paitients aren't allowed to be near me without suppervision.
(It's now time for Brent Has a REALLY Good Idea and Then Runs It Into the Ground So Only He Finds It Amusing.)
In fact, I'm so razorrific sharp edge shittful that I'm changing my name to Mach Brent 3 or even better, just call me Quatro.
Yep, Quatro, that's my new name.
"Hey, hey, Quatro, new Adidas, eh?"
"Quatro is so hot I want to buy him chocolate milk!"
"If Quatro was a dinosaur he'd have been a StegoQuatro Rex and he'd get all the dinosaur chicks and all the dinosaur gold."
Join us next time when Brent thinks of a good idea for a Halloween costume.
"A Lazer Ape!"
This weekend R. Butt and I are going to house sit for this lady with a lot of cats.
The house is very Old Lonely Lady and therefore not much fun, unless maybe she has painkillers or those nitro pills ....
Focus, don't reveal your desire for old people pills, you just did, shit, think of cover up, go with something like
So, R. Franklin and I had a great idea. When we get home from work this afternoon (that's get home respectively, dorks, I don't do office romance ayight?) we are directly changing into pajamas! I'm taking one t-shirt and one pair of boxers and that's it for the entire weekend. I might even skip out on brushing, but that would not be good for my junks life so I will.
And don't forget to score old lady pills.
But not the estrogen ones again, O.K.? Last time I cried for a week.
But your skin was softer and you did appreciate pink a lot more.
And I finally understood "Dirty Dancing".
Nobody
Puts
Brent
In
A
Corner
I'm typing to myself.

Now they won't even say the dead troops names on some news stations?
Who do you think is dying in this war, dorkneck dick lickers? Last time I checked it's almost 800 dead PEOPLE, not dolls. Girls play with dolls, people die in battles.
"We Support Our What's-Their-Names."

Last night I had a horrible nightmare. It started out with me watching the nightly news (Source:the position I'm up for, watching "The Daily Show" before bed).
"That hummingbird in your backyard might not be a hummingbird after all..."
"Shit."
"It could actually be a flying snake-like creature that is nature's most deadly weapon."
"Double Shit"
So, I look outside and I notice an old woman sunbathing (an old home video from my childhood).
Back on the T.V. ...
"This unsuspecting woman thought the thousands of hummingbirds that had gathered in her backyard were awesome, until they attacked her."
The flying snake birds (from yesterday's news story about the snakefish on the East Coast) attack the woman.
"One bite from the birds is lethal. Victims first show signs of the flu and then die within days. (zombie movies)"
"I can't let them kill that woman! (Boy Scouts)"
So I run outside and start attacking the snake-birds. But once you attack one you attack them all (Playing Halo on XBox). I was fighting off a thousand of them (Kill Bill), but they wouldn't die easily. I had to crush then with objects lying around my yard AND avoid their jaws of venom (Wig Wolf)! It was hard (porn).
I had them down to the last two who I trapped in my dojo. That's right, I had a dojo (Enter the Dragon).
I was flipping and swinging and they were snapping and biting and I trapped one under a pillow. I stepped on him and his venom sac exploded on my face.
"I've been infected. (28 Days Later)"
The last snake-bird was laughing at me.
"A fool you were to risk your life for the old lady's."
"A fool you were to be born." (Splinter in "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles": Death comes for us all, Oroku Saki, but something much worse comes for you. For when you die, it will be
[Shredder falls from the building and lands in the back of a garbage truck]
... Without honor. )
Then I crushed him.
I started to get sick and then ....
woke up and peed (water, PBR). That's it.
Weekend, dorks.

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4/28/2004

Wednesday to you, dorks.
It's quiet in the halls of the place that gives me money for porn. Maybe the soccer moms are planning an attack.
Battlestations!
A lady stopped me in the hall today, "Just so you know, my 22-year-old daughter fell off my scooter."
"Oh yeah? I once rode a bike off of a cliff and smacked my nuts on the handle bar when I landed. So, who wins the stupid story contest, lady?"
Actually, I just filed her babble-dabble under "Useless Stranger/Daughter Scooter Related Injuries" in my brain and went on my way.
Not much of words back from place me want work. Send e-smokesignals today as requested by chief, short word back thanking for pow-wow. Not respond again, young brave not want seem pushy.

Brent, did you yell at a foreign person or a retarded person last night?
Both.
I went to buy some beers at a gas station. This chick in front of me accidently dropped a bottle of girly smirnoff drink.
"I will pay for it," she said.
"What happens, man?" said the unruly store clerk.
Mumble, grumble, bumble (stopped paying attention for a few seconds because I noticed even NEWER flavors of Doritos!)
Then...
"You don't have to call me stupid!" said the girl.
"What happens, man?"said clerk ass again.
"Your boyfriend got the gas, outside the pump, go him," said retard.
Girl walks out followed by clerk and jerk. They seem to all have a little talk in the parking lot.
When they come back in I decide that the place is too weird and put the beer back.
"Sir, I help you!"
"You guys are weird, I'm leaving."
So, I get to the car and R. Waiting asks me "What the hell was going on in there?"
I explain, she tells me that the guys were yelling at the girl in the parking lot while her boyfriend just sat there.
"Hmmm," I thought, "I must really have been into those Doritos, because I missed all of that."
Then I said, "Not while Batman is around!"
"What?" said R. Huh.
So, I marched back into the store and looked the clerk right in the eyes.
"It's rude to yell at women," I let him know.
Then I looked at old redneck retard.
"Rude!"
Then I left. I am America's Boyfriend.
Later, dorks, it's time for naps!
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4/27/2004

... we will be back in Fallujah. It will be at the time and place of our choosing. We will hunt down the criminals.
-Brig. Gen. Mark Kimmitt

I don't think sealing off the roads and refusing to let families go home for weeks, advising "bad guys" to get out of town, have silly negotiations to get the enemies' weapons and then carpet bombing the shit out of an entire city is really hunting "down the criminals.
"Hey, Mark, where are you going this weekend?"
"Well, Neil, I'm going hunting."
"Have you sealed off all the entrances to the forest yet?"
"Yep, I figure anything left in there come Saturday will be deer and not turtles or Iraqi children. Plus, I've been in negotiations to get all of the deer to turn over their horns."
"Are they complying?"
"Doesn't really matter, does it, Neil? Come Saturday morning I'm dropping bombs on Bambi! Hahahahahahaha!"
"Hahahahahaha! Stupid deer! Great white men!"
"Fuel up my F-16! We got Iraqi venison to kill!"

"Hi, my name's Dick and for the 9/11 Commission Talent Show I'm going to have my puppet George here sing 'Toxic' by Britnney Spears while I drink this glass of cover-up ... I mean water. Right, George?"
"I'm a fire hazard."

LET'S DORK!

Today I had an interview at Dream Job World.
"Brent," Kyle asked me, "what is your dream job?"
"Cigarette-smoker Porn Watcher!"
This place is almost that cool. I find out soon if I got it.
I'm whorish with anticipation.

Had a good-then-drunk-then-depressed-then-nappy weekend.
Saturday night R. Throaty (who supposedly "had a rushed tonsil removal surgery" today, A.K.A. "Brent rules at excuses to sneak out for interviews" "Brent, can you please lift this box to save the world?" "I would, but my arms are full of worms." "What?" "And I fell asleep." Back to ...) and I had people over to drink. I met lots of cool new people. I talked with tall and short people that I new (know), I drank lots of beer and vodka and touched R. booty.
Then came Sunday.
"Brent, we're a thrash metal band that is going to move into your body."
"I say, what?"
(Thrashing metalically in my head, stomach and soul) "YOU CAN'T RUN FROM THE DEVIL, HE PUTS HIS EVIL IN YOUR EYES AND BLEEDS OUT YOUR NOSE!"
"Prozac take me away!"
"THE DEVIL ATE YOUR PROZAC NEXT HE'LL EAT YOUR SOUL AND THEN YOUR FRIES FROM THE BOTTOM OF YOUR BURGER KING BAG!"
"What? He ate my bag fries? What kind of Devil is this?"
"HE'S A CONTRACT DEVIL WE HIRED HIM ON A TEMPORARY BASIS REALLY HE'S NOT THAT GOOD BUT WE'RE STILL GIVING HIM A CHANCE."
"That's nice of you."
"NO, IT'S EVIL!"
"Oh, right, that's "evil" of you."
"THANK YOU! THRASH METAL RULES!"
"Yes, it does Body Snatcher Band."

Hi, this is the part of Brent's brain that is not affected by cafeine and cable T.V. We have taken over because Brent has slipped into a creative coma, He has again lost track of where he was going with one of his silly conversations, we will return him shortly when ...

I Lead Pipe you, Mother fuckers!

Ok, dorks, so I had a goodish weekend and last night I bought Aqua Teen Hunger Force on DVDish. I can't wait to watch more of it! Body Snatcher Band, play me out! Later, dorks!
"WELL, THE DEVIL DON'T LIKE YOUR GRANDMA AND HE DON'T LIKE SHOPPING NEITHER BECAUSE HE'S THE KING DARK DEVIL AND THE LORD OF THE NETHER ... WORLD!"
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4/23/2004

The Ranger Creed

RECOGNIZING that I volunteered as a Ranger, disregarding video games, television, political propoganda, movies, the education system, the economy, my father, sports, chicks, beer and advertisments as influences on my naturally influencable human mind.

ACKNOWLEDGING that a Ranger is a more elite soldier who honorably gets to shoot twice as many dark skinned people in hot parts of the world.

NEVER shall I fail my comrades or ask my Ranger buddy, Pippytits, things like "Hey, Pippytits, why did we just shoot that unarmed man?" or "Pippytits, do dark skinned people from this hot part of the world have a Heaven."

GALLANTLY I will show the world that I am a specially selected and well-trained soldier by wearing lots of tight t-shirts and Croakies on my Oakleys.

ENERGETICALLY I will meet the enemies of my country. I will then invite them to my tent for soda and chips. After a close game of Monopoly I will kill them. I will always be the Scotty Dog piece, I will never be the Wheelbarrow.

READILY I will display the intestinal fortitude to say "intestinal fortitude" without laughing about poopy.

Laugh it out!
Listen to me dorks! Listen to the hype!
Pat Tillman will become a rallying point for the war hawks. They will say things like "Be like Pat" and "Pat was a good American". They will make Pat speak from the grave! Pat will be the 2004 electoral zombie! He is the wet dream for a war marketer.
When you see Pat's face, dorks, and when you hear people talk about him remember this ...
Pat Tillman died in Afghanistan so you could drive to the beach at lower gas prices, oil companies could punish their enemies and tycoons could have a hand in the world's biggest money maker called the U.S. Government.
Anybody who uses the dead as a puppet is an evil ventriloquist.

It's supposed to be nice this weekend in Seattle. I hope it's nice where you are, dork reader.
Weekend.



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4/22/2004

Productivity and desire to not work here fuel today.
I may be up for a wicked new job. It's another contract job, 6 months for sure, maybe 9 or a year. Much more money, lots of experience and potential for something wicked afterwards. No insurance though. But, fuck it.
When I was 10 years old I preformed surgery on my foot because some gross thing kept growing underneath it. It was like yellow and bubbly.
"Don't pick at it, Brent"
"Eat it, Mom, I'm digging the fucker out!"
Yep, I sure as a fatty likes vegetables said that. Then as sure as a fatty likes fresh pie I got a pair of scissors and a big piece of chewing gum. If you bite down on Bazooka hard enough you don't need morphine.
So, I dug out whatever was bubbly and sticky and I was fine.
My point? I don't need insurance like a fatty needs ranch dressing. I have some scissors and bubble gum. Cancer? Fuck it. You can only root deep in your body with scissors until you pass out or dig the fucker out. Either way works for me.
So, me and Wig Wolf and Man Face and Crumble Cheeks and Jersey Hair and Stupid Mustache and Smile Guy and Mole Teeth might be parting ways here soon. Or maybe not, who knows, it's a crazy world out there, dorks.
I got my truck registered in Washington on my lunch break. I wish I had put some thought into a kick ass vanity plate like ...
BLLKIKER
STPDHIPY
ILUVMACE
GOFATTY
URAFATS
DRKSDTRK
MMMCAKE
or
KITNKLR
Those would all be good.
So, thanks to a Pentagon mandate the media are not allowed to put out pictures of dead soldier's coffins coming home?
What the fuck do you think goes on in war, dickfaces?
"I say, I've been shot, Timothy."
"My, Pippytits, call a time out and I'll go get Mom."

In the war young Johnny did die
then he came home so Mommy could cry.
He died from a headshot near Kabul.
They showed his headshot from high school,
but not the coffin where he rests.
'Cause we don't want voters to get upset.

And poets die sooner than water skiiers? Good thing I'm a bad poet.
Later, dorks.
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4/21/2004

Morning, dorks. Gotta a lot to say, so let's go!
Went to the baseball game last night. Mariners won it 2-1 in the ninth. Made for a fun little date with R. Third Base.
Dorks, are there times in YOUR lives when you go "Hey, what the hell?" or "What the hell, hey?" or "Was that the Maytag Repairman that I just met?", because in my "cartoonish" reviewed life I say that often. Well, with the Maytag Repairman it was just last night that I said that.
Yep, I met the Maytag Repairman. Isn't that a random, random person to meet at a baseball game. I know I felt up Mrs. Butterworth at a coke party once and played Tekken 3 against the Pillsbury Doughboy at a local arcade, but the Maytag Repairman? He's like the living god of the unliving corporate mascots! His ability to actually use paper towels makes him far more dietiesh than the Bounty man!
So, after shaking his amazingly silky soft hand ('cause he don't work, dorkitches!) I told him that I did as little work as him all day (and I do! I get paid to do this!).
So he signed my glossy picture of him and his young assistant:
"To Brent, I know how you feel! Depend on me! From Ol' Trusty, FARdlkjBarthly (Can't read his signature)"
His strikingly handsome counterpart (hey, I can admit it when a dude is Greekesque in his handsomeness. I won't say guys like Harrison Ford are handsome, that's a little much. But guys like the younger Maytag Repairman? You have to respect their handsomeness ... or you're gay.) signed it:
"To Brent, Come join our team and do nothing. STAY CLEAN! Franck;jj OUUUllllw3 (again with the signature)"

"STAY CLEAN!" it's like he knows about how I have to clean my feet and wear deodorant and wipe up spaghetti stains to maintain impress over R. Girly! He feels my pain! He really knows me for who I am. I'm messy, I like teams, he knows the real me! Maybe I should call him. No, too soon. Maybe ...
SNAP out of it!
So the picture hangs in my office. Read it, rubberheads and not understand. To not understand is a rubberheads greatest natural resource.
A treat from the creative writing vaults!
For this exercise we had to take a horrible play called "The Open Window" and write a screenplay for it. Fun! A screenplay! Awesome! For "The Open Window"? Lead pipes! Lead pipes!
Here's the premise of the play. This nervousa guy goes to visit this family. This little bitch tells him about her dead dad and brother and how her mom keeps the window open so their souls can come in and out and drink coacoa. Then the "ghosts" walk through the door and it turns out the little brat was lying that they were dead and the guy becomes a Highlander.
Get it? Good. Here's my screenplay for it.

THE OPEN WINDOW
Screenplay by Brent Kinkade (1998)
Adapted from A. Dumwriter (from Hell)

Cast
Mr. Nutel-Crazy guy with a sleep disorder
Vera(young lady)- Niece w/ an attitude
Mrs. Sappleton - Not crazy, but thought to be
Mr. Sappleton - Not dead
Dog- Does his thing doggy style (I actually wrote that in high school and got a 20/20 for it! Gold star!)

(Victorian townhouse living room with a large open window (!) that reaches the ground on the wall. There are about 5 or 6 trophy heads decorating the walls and the seats are large and leather)

(Camera pan out of Vera's face while she's speaking)
Vera- My aunt will be down presently, Mr. Nuttel, in the meantime you must try and put up w/ me.

(Camera continues to pan out until you see her entire body, she is thin and frail)

Vera- (Motioning for Mr. Nuttel to sit) Do you know many people round here?

Frampton- (sitting cautiously after wiping at the seat) Hardly a soul, my sister was staying ...

Vera- Yeah, yeah then you practically know nothing about my aunt.

Frampton- (shifting in his seat, perturbed by being interupted) only her ...

Vera- (interupting again) Her great tragedy happened three years ago.

Frampton- (Opens mouth to ask question, but...)

Vera- You may wonder why we keep that window wide open on an October afternoon

Frampton- It is ... (any of you dorks notice if the high school writer is getting bored with his material yet? You will!)

Vera- (interupting) Three years ago boys leave. Bog suck them down. Many moons my aunt has kept window wide until the great fireball has set. Oh, her ailment can be cured by no mediceman. She believe boys come home soon. Crazy white woman. I'll scalp her.

Frampton-(looking confused) Why are you talking like an Indian?

(Enter Mrs. Sappleton)
Mrs. Sappleton-I hope Vera has been amusing you.

Frampton-She has been...

Mrs. S. (Interupting- I hope you don't mind the open window but we are playing a cruel joke on you because we think you're ugly and smell bad.

Frampton-(looking up) Excuse me? I didn't hear you.

Mrs. S.- Nevermind let me rattle on cheerfully (Camera pans in on Mrs. S. until only her mouth is seen, switch over to Frampton. Again pan in but to his eyes. Suddenly he looks shocked, becaus there are the dead men at the window. He runs away)

Mr. S.-What was his problem?

Mrs. S.-Drugs.

Mr. S.- Oh. Look little doggy-kins has learned a new trick!

(Dog dances around while balancing a ball on his nose. Everyone laughs and the camera pans out .... the open window).


There you go, dorks. I need to go not work now.
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4/20/2004

Happy week to you, dorks. Did you all have a pretty little weekend? I did. I saw me Kill Bill Vol. 2 on Friday. I was supposed to go with the L.C. to see it later in the weekend, but I couldn't sit still knowing that Darryl Hannah was kicking ass.
After that I stayed up late and drank beer.
The next day was Date Day with R. Tanktop. We went shoe shopping(yes shoe shopping and BARGAIN shoe shop at that, dork princesses), bought a new ottoman, got a kickass margarita set and of course some tequila. But Date Night was cut short when R. Sicky got a little upset stomach from eating too much mayonaise on her club sandwich ("And I ain't even a member").
There is nothing less sexy than mayonaise, dorks. If I wanted to punish terrorists I would replace their blood with mayonaise via slow transfusion. Oh, it makes me sick!
Miracle Whip is the money-shot-in-a-jar stuff.
I've always had a problem with trusting other people's mayonaise (and still do!). After my parents divorced I would go visit my Dad in Virginia and try to make sandwiches with his mayonaise but I just couldn't.
I have to be present at the purchasing of the mayonaise for it to be O.K. by me.
What? Enough about mayonaise? You know I'm babbling to cover my Saturday emasculation? What's emasculation?
So, yes R. Woods beat me at mini-golf on Saturday and as a consequence I have to make dinner and do the dishes every night this week.
We were tied going into the 18th hole and then I choked harder than a clown on cock.
So, last night I made spaghetti. (clowns---cock---spaghetti, If this entry had one of the heavily-elipsed pull quotes it might say "I .... choked ... a clown ... cock ... last night ... spaghetti" hehe)
Tonight! I go baseballing. Mariners v.s. Oakland! Me v.s. free hat giveway mob! First 21,000? Fuck that I want the first one period! (actually "I want the first one exclimation point?" Dammit.)
It seems like there is something else.
Work sucks and apparently I am Dumbo. No one will hire me away from here! When they read my resume they must go "Ah, yes, you have the solid background we are looking for, but you are also a cartoon elephant, we hate you, die, die, die."
In the distance I hear a soccer mom laughing. I know she watches "Touched by an Angel".
I want to run away and grow a helicopter propeller out of my head and fly to a little island full of asian girls .... a little island full of my girlfriend and sip bourbon out of coconut shells and watch sunsets while I set of fireworks and chop with a machete, occasionally using my helicopter head to fly to the mainland for bologna, Miracle Whip, Anal Eaze, booze and funny pictures of monkeys doing man-like things. I'll make up my own language and put out my own newspaper and then they'd have to hire me as at least an editor, because I'm the only one who knows the style guide of "The Larpy Toontit" like the back of my "winkle".
And I could do it, dorks, I just need to put the one foot in front of the other. Run out the doors and through the parking lot, long jump over I-405 and the traffic, run Adidas run!
But, I can't, I carpooled with the Hippie today and responsibility makes me sane.
Later, dorks.

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4/16/2004

I'm sorry, dorks. I get into my rappin' moods and I forget to tell you about what else I'm up to.
So, today I started carpooling with this chick who works at the Department of Ecology. She is definitely not the kind of person who would like being called "this chick who works at the Department of too much typing".
She was talking about carpooling and some van and her foster kids and trees and buildings and I wasn't listening and driving and not listening and trying to avoid bringing up lesbians, which I don't think I normally would have except I realized about halfway to work "OH, she's a lesbian" (maybe it was because she was going on about saving the "bushes" Ha, fuck).
So, that was good and I like getting to work in 25 minutes and not an hour and 15 apples ... minutes, not apples, Brent. You eat apples. Anyways, my car smells like hippies.
Man, I used to hate hippies in high school. I think it was because they sat on the ground. To this day I refuse to sit on the ground if I can avoid it.
Man did not evolve millions of apples (dammit, years) to grow legs and hands and invent screws and wood to build chairs for hippies to sit on the ground! "It's a sit-in!" "Dammit, no it's a sit-on!"
I should do a remake of that movie "Hair" and instead call it "Chair". That's a really dumb idea. In it I will teach hippies about chairs and show them how to use them.
"This is the dawning of the age of the Lay-Z-Boy ... the age of the Lay-Z-Boy ... THE LAY-Z-BOY!"
Yep.
Just a few minutes ago I was getting on the elevator to go up ('cause it ain't time to get down yet, a-huh!) and this lady who I haven't told you dorks about did something stupid. I haven't told you about her mainly because I don't want her soul fouling up my precious dorksite. It's like the Amish and their fear of cameras; I feel if I utter her existence here she will capture my soul! Her name is Wig Wolf! She is the darkness of Hell! I hate Wig Wolf! Sometimes I have nightmares that she is at my apartment very late at night to bother me. I wake up in a cold sweat screaming, "No Wig Wolf! Rainbows on your shirt don't cover the Hell in your belly! Your belly!"
And then R. Sleepy rubs my back.
Witness the fire!
(This time the e-mails are in order. I love you.)

[this is kyle, brent fell in a hole. he asked me to type this ("kyle, i'm in a hole. go update my site"). These email correspondence are REAL. like Fo' REAL. okay. i'm done]

From: Wig Wolf
To: Kinkade, Brent
Subject: Sorter
Importance: High

Brent,
The sorter you dropped off, is made out of pressed cardboard. Can you please return this one and get me a plastic one.

This one is not cost efficient because it is going to fall apart, especially the lettering. The lettering is taped on to the ends.

I got approval for a sorter and I would prefer to get the sorter that I know will last me a long time, compared to one that is going to fall apart in no time.

Please order me a plastic sorter.

Please let me know if you need me to look at the Boise catalog or if you need to see (a woman)'s sorter again.
Thank you,
Wig Wolf

----------
From: Kinkade, Brent
To: Wig Wolf
Subject: RE: Sorter

Wig Wolf,
I called around for you. (Girl #2) has a plastic sorter that she says you can use when you need one. She doesn't use it often.
If you want to hold on to the one you have for future use you may or I will return it.
In the future, please ask the different sales supports if they have supplies they can share or let you have. This is more cost and time efficient.
Thank you,
Brent
----------

From: Wig Wolf
To: Kinkade, Brent
Subject: RE: Sorter

Brent,
(Woman #1) checked with (man) and he didn't have any. (Man) said that (Girl #2) had borrowed his sorter. We need more than one sorter flooding around. If (Man) should need it, I would not have one to use. If (Girl #2) should need it, again I would not have one to use.

When I need to sort, I need to sort, it is not something that I can put off for very long and that is why I felt the need to ask you to order one for me.

You can check with (a woman), as to how many times we need the sorter at the same time. There are times that (women) and I need the sorter at the same time.

It is not unreasonable to ask for a tool that we need to do our job and it is not unreasonable to get the quality that we ask for.

Brent, don't get me wrong, I believe that you checked, but I know that there are better qualities of sorter and I would like for you to order me one. Please check for me, and please let me know if I need to escalate this request.
Thank you,
Wig Wolf

-------

Wig Wolf,
I don't believe this issue warrants this much time or communication. The problem is easily resolved. Bring the old sorter down and I will return it, the new sorter will be here tomorrow.
I was looking for the most "cost effective" way to solve the problem as that seemed to be your original concern.
Thanks,
Brent


This is Wig Wolf! This is a taste of her viciousness. She is vile, all hate Wig Wolf!
Back to my original story.

Me: (getting on the elevator, which Wig Wolf is on by herself) Hey, hold the elevator.

Wig Wolf: I'm going down.

Me: (noticing that the up light is lit, door closing) But, the light says your going ... (door closed)

I hear the elevator go UP! UP NOT DOWN! WIG WOLF!

I wait for the elevator again and go up. While I'm upstairs I see Wig Wolf!
"Have a nice weekend, Brent," she snarled.
"I will have nightmares about you for life," I responded.
"My soul is pure fire," said Wig Wolf
"Yes, and God shuns ye," I said.
"That's me!"

I think I had something else to say, but ah well it's time to go pick up Janis Joplin and drink Wig Wolf away.
Real weekend this time, dorks.
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I got ladies fight-ing over me,
Got the girls delight-ing under me.
The Kung-Fu way don't enlight-en me,
but, punk, you do not fright-en me.

'Cause I pull out my shotty. "Barrel, please meet Face."
KRA-KOW too loud, I'll just stick with the Mase.
Beause with Mase you only get a scream.
And in space don't no-one hear you scream.
Welcome to the void; call me Buzz Lightyear.
Fuck kiddy shit, make it Doctor Fear.
Sinister, like I'm Spiderman's foe
And Spiderman won't be 'round no mo'.

I said Spiderman won't be 'round no mo'.

'Cause I got M.J. and Lois fight-ing over me.
And Supergirl be delight-ing under me.
That Kung-Fu shit don't enlight-en me,
but, punk you still ain't shit to me.


Damn, dorks. I AM the best rapper alive! I rock, I rap, I'm not Kid Rock and Fred Durst is for super skinhead dorks!
"I did it all for the nookie!"
"You've actually had sex, Fred Durst?"
Check out my album in stores June 6 "DJ, get a Clue".
Throw the sign, dorks!
Weekend!



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4/15/2004

Hahahahahaha.
I was just laughing to myself and I thought I'd share the laugh with you, dorks.
Here's a non-authentic transcript of a prank call I made my juniorish year in high school.

Operator: Thanks for calling Super Speed Readers, would you like me to set you up with our program?

Me: No, actually I've used it already. I bought it about a month ago. I can read a lot faster now.

Operator: Well, I'm glad you like it.

Me: Well, I like it, but I don't like what it's done to me.

Operator: What do you mean?

Me: I read really fast now, but maybe almost too fast. I read so fast that some times I start puking. Like motion sickness kind of.

Operator: You vomit?

Me: Yeah, is there like a customer service person I can talk to? I don't really want a refund, I just want to know if this is normal or if I need to go see someone.

Operator: You're saying you throw up because you read too fast?

Me: Yep, I just start reading and my eyes are moving so fast and I think it's faster than my brain can move so I think it pukes, like to maybe cover up the book so I can't read the words.

Operator: Please hold on while I get my supervisor.

Me: Nope.
-Click-

Turned away from it all
Like a blind man ...
Bowie rules so hard! Opens with "Rebel, Rebel" and 2 and half hours later closes with "Ziggy".
Me tired today, sore from sitting, didn't take dancing cues from limber balding gay men in front of me. Full head hair straight boy stiff, bald gay men limber.
And the world turns on towards eternity.
Outside they were selling t-shirts with a picture of 70s Bowie. The shirt said "I Fucked Mick Jagger".
I wanted one, but my stiff shoulders and full head of hair held me back.
DORKWAD PLAYED GUIIIIIIIIIITAAAAAAAARRRRR!


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4/14/2004

WASHINGTON (Reuters) -- Heavy social drinkers show the same pattern of brain damage as hospitalized alcoholics -- enough to impair day-to-day functioning, U.S. researchers said Wednesday ...

This is why I do most of my drinking under a blanket in a dark closet instead of socially.

Speaking of society ... is President Bush getting more darling looking every day? The picture of him and Ariel Sharon on cnn.com makes him look so precious. Kind of like a lost puppy/boy. And his press conference? Forget about it! He is by far the most progressively-boyish-by-the-day president ever.
"Sir, I knew Jack Kennedy, he was a boyish-faced president, you sir are no Jack Kennedy... you're a pumpkin prince with chubby cheeks of gold and a tightlipped smile of pudding!"
Almost makes you forget he's killing kids in other countries and dumbing up kids at home.
BOWIE! SPREE!
(A fratboy infiltrates!)
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4/13/2004

Busy life for me a busy life indeed when I move so fast no commas come and all day long the work is done and periods are nay nay nay all I feel I have to say is busy dorks with bad grammar and happy days can't be too far

What a country!
-I found a disc golf park 1.5 miles from our new apartment! It is so beautiful that I want to deflower it. I could walk there if I wasn't a recovering BigMac junkie or if I liked to walk!
I decided the other day when I was on a ride out to R. Pickles parent's (the cucumbers) for a bbq that I really don't like walks. I'd rather stay in a relatively smaller area and jump around preferably with a ball. I have to have a purpose to my leg motion.
"Let's go for a walk."
"Nope, let's do something useful."
-I beat MaxPayne 2 last night. I like running my proper nouns together. BrentKinkade, MaxPayne, BigMac. Very trendy looking.
-For the last 2 and a half months I have taken part in a study to treat people with major depression.
"When a lack of headaches is making your sex life grand and you hate it , call MajorDepression. When you've been laid off and that pizza dough tosser boy job offer is looking good, call MajorDepression. MajorDepression, he makes you say 'Maybe I won't have a burger'."
So, there's a 50% chance that I've been taking a new drug that they are trying out, a 25% chance that I was taking, um, I can't remember it's name ... Luftextarasmiles and a 25% (50+25+25=100) chance that I was taking sugar or not sugar. I won't know for a couple of years until the study is over.
But anyways I feel much better and yes I will have that burger.
Tomorrow I start Prozac.
Also, tomorrow I go see David Bowie and Polyphonic Spree. Personally.
"So, David Bowie, let's see you do Ziggy."
"I'm so hipper than you even though I'm so older. I will smile at you, but after 5 words I speak gibberish. Flick flock puddy spoo."
"What?"
"Tipple crackers."
What was that about? So ... the girl person of the lovely couple (who really needs a much shorter name so now she's Jill, which she really isn't) Jill's dad got sick and she had to go visit him in Atlanta. So, I get to go to see Bowie in her place with Jack (who played frisbee golf with me on Sunday and who I actually outdrove and, i said it (or am about to (parantheses)), outplayed on a few holes).
So, Bowie tomorrow night.
Tonight?
Kill Bill Vol. 1, dorks.
And Costco hot dogs, dorks.
And redheaded kisses, dorks.
And leftover girly Smirnoff drinks, dorks.
But now?
It's time for "More Shit Brent Found".
Here is one more of my writing examples that I found when I moved. This is from creative writing and a bit more structured and punctured.
It's a "Finish the story after Big Teacher Worked at Pizza Place finishes prompt".
The set up was this:
It's Halloween (this was written in the same year, and more than likely on the same day, of the Career Math Halloween entry ... "shovel in head") and this girl is driving home from a party. She is all alone and she stops on a bridge. The bridge is supposed to be haunted. She does not like this situation. She starts to strip. She is super super stacked. She whispers, "Brent, show me the triumph." I whisper, "Does that mean .... Back to reality. The night is dark and the bridge is dark and she reaches in her back seat for her flashlight when all of a sudden she feels a man's head. He he.
(my story starts now)
THE TRAGIC ODYSSEY OF A HEAD ON HALLOWEEN
"Hmmm there shouldn't be a head (he he) in my back seat (he he)." Carolyn thought.
She was right. Her car did come with many options; air conditioning, AM/FM radio, cruise control, but most deffinitely not leathery, bald heads.
"Gasp," she gasped. ("Brent, good writers don't do this." "Yeah, well, good writers don't pee on your face.")
Suddenly the head spoke. Its voice was a raspy voice one that sounded like sandpaper against concrete.
"Gack dat ackgah," said the head.
"Here use some of this," said Carolyn pulling some throat spray from her bag.
"Dack mak ugk," gagged the head. (I should have written "dackmakugked the head").
"Oh yeah, no arms, just a head," observed Carolyn.
"Here let me bring you up front so I can spray it in your throat."
So Carolyn picked the head up and plopped it on the passenger's side seat.
"Say 'ahhh'," said Carolyn.
"Aggkahk," said the head.
She sprayed the head's throat. He smiled. Carolyn liked his smile. "Mature," she thought.
"Hey thanks, babe," said the head.
"Did you call me babe?" asked Carolyn, astonished.
"Sure enough, sweet thing," replied the head.
Carolyn was shocked, she couldn't believe it. She couldn't get a man even if he was just a balding decapitated head. So she leaned over and opened the passenger side door and pushed the head out.
"All men are scum, even dead ones," she said.
Now the head had been through a lot in his day but it doesn't matter if you were made part of the undead yesterday or last century, it still hurts to be shoved out of a Rambler going 60 miles per hour (which was stopped before, Brent).
However, my future self is a picky ass, and as the head hit the pavement it bounced 15 ft. in the air! This caused the head to fall over the bridge and land safely in the river below.
"Thank goodness all that gel I use solidified into a hard rubbery substance on my scalping," said the head, "I may be bald, but I still know that gel is important."
Well, it doesn't take the decapitated head of a rocket scientist to realize that heads sink in the water. The head had to think fast. Suddenly he remembered.
(Here's a good question/lesson for aspiring young writers: when you realize that you have created an impossible situation for your character that doesn't even allow for much of a story do you
a.)rethink your entire piece
b.) brain storm with fellow writers. Your peers are your best resource.
c.) come up with this ridiculous idea)
"I'll use my outboard motor," he exclaimed.
He'd almost forgotten about his signing bonus from the Dark Lord from when he joined the ranks of the undead. So he yanked on the cord (how) with his teeth and the engine started instantly.
"Purring like a kitten," said the head.
Well, the head had a grand time skimming across the surface of that lake. He only wished he had some skis he could strap on (he he) to his chin.
But once again there was trouble. How does a decapitated head reach the choke button and thus cut off the engine? (?) He doesn't (well played, past me).
So the head had no choice but to try and jump the shore and land in some leaves. Well, he cleared the shore all right, but he didn't land in leaves. He landed in a bag of Halloween candy of a tot passing by.
"Hey, Ma, somethin' done landed in my bag," said the little inbred.
"Well, what it be?" asked the mother.
Gazing in the bag the child replied "A head."
"Well, I be ... is it one of them heads of the undead that have been going around?" asked the mother.
"Yes," the child replied, "and he has an outboard motor attached to him."
"Hooey," hooed the mother. "Mug him and take the motor."
"Sure, Ma," said the boy.
So the little child proceded to beat the head with a stick.
"Hey, I'm just a head," said the head. "You could just take the motor."
"Shut up, devil head," said the boy, delivering a rather vicious blow.
The last thing the head thought before he passed out was ...
H A P P Y H A L L O W E E N

Well, dorks, it's time to go do things and stuff. Remember when things aren't working out as planned have someone get beaten with a stick. It will draw attention from your problems and quite possibly land you a motor.


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4/09/2004

Dorks, dorks, dizzydorkles.
How've ya been? I hope that you all didn't blow up or get mono. I did neither. I be busy with my new apartment ... and my new XBox.
The apartment thing is going smoother than a fatty's trip to the store for some Twinkies. And you know fatties make it easy because of the fat.
The apartment is a perfect blend of Glade Plug-Ins and my Adidas, Pink and Knives, Utensils and B.B. Guns, Stuffed animals and Porn. Many nights I stay up late to play my XBox and drink beer long after R. Slumber's has gone to rest and I think, "I live with a girl and I haven't died yet. Wicked."
Plus, I've convinced her to call me "Best Rapper Alive" (the new Jay-Z album is good), so that makes it awesomererererrr.
I cook and I clean dorks. I'm getting matureereerrrer. Every morning I:
-brush AND rinse.
-put foot cream on feet
-take calcium pills for weakening bones (especially my knees).
-take antidepressant so I don't scream "Lead pipes! Head blow!" while at work.
-take a Claritin b/c my body now hates grass, pollen, bees, peanut butter, milk, cheap beer, whores, Montana and cats.
-make a lunch, which I actually do at night.
-return my towels to where they belong, not in R. Bumpers car!
-put things in "hampers"
I like it dorks, I'm getting it down!
Hahahahahahahaha, fuck, Brent you are so funny. It's easy to do what you do. I bet one day you woke up and could write so goddamned good.
NO!
To play like the playa I be you gots to play lots like me.
I found some of my old writings the other night while unpacking, dorktittyers. The paper is fading and they might soon be lost, so I'm going to post them here. And they will live for enternity in your hearts.
Then you will realize the path of the genius.
The following are journal entries I wrote during "Career Math" my senior year in high school (6 years ago now). I had elected to take Career Math instead of Triangle Math because I wanted to slack and daydream about ninjas and Pringles (which will be evident here very, very soon, Dorklock Holmeseesssesss).
I fit in about as much as an eskimo fits in at a Subway.
"Mighty Quin like seal on sandwich."
"That's a very racist impersonation of an eskimo ordering lunch. GET OUT! Lead pipes!"
"Mighty Quin alone with hunger."

On the second week we learned to do addition. What did we do the first two weeks? Regression of horror keeps me from telling you.

I wrote most of these in 2 minutes (like my blog!). I won't change my typos, just for you. Let's do it, dorks.

(Name three people you'd like to meet and why.)
Kirby Puckett - He's, in my opinion, one of the greatest baseball players ever. But he's more than that he's a great human being, always nice to his fans and he held on to playing the game until he couldn't go any further.
Teddy Roosevelt- He's the guy who said walk softly and carry a big stick, the way I think every man should live his life. I'd like to go on safari with him and shoot lions and Rhinoceroses and giraffes and bears.
Beastie Boys (all of them) - It'd be cool. We'd break stuff and yell at people and other stuff. I think they are great musicians I like that Sabotage son. Bum-bum-bum-bum-It's a SABOTAGE!

(Philosophy on life)
My philosophy on life is simple it comes in three easy statements
#1 = never worry about anything that will not matter a week from now.
#2=God is real
#3= Do what you gotta do.
It's that simple. It's like one of them No Fear shirts. They're pretty comfortable and they got some pretty witty statements like "Beat Death Up when he comes for you." I agree. It's like that poem "Don't go gently ..." It goes "Blah, Blah, Blah, RAGE, RAGE against that thing Blah, Blah" It's a good poem, you gotta fight for your right. You know 'cause life's just like a big spinning wheel you gotta stay ahead of it or else it would crush you and you'd go "Ahhhh." Life is good.

(Something you wanted but couldn't have)
I wanted a bear, a real live grizzly bear. But my mom was like "yah, yah, yah, it will eat you yah, yah, yah, blod and guts, yah, yah, yah, shut up" so I felt bad and I went to the zoo and hopped in the bear pit. Sure enough the bear was mad. He tried to eat me. So I ripped out his throat and showed it to him. I was like "Hi-Ya" and his body went thunk. The zoo people were like "you killed him, we kill you" But my mom showed up and they wussed out. Boy she was mad. But I was like "It was scary." So she gave me some Jello Pudding Pops. I like them Jello Pudding pops. I eat them up. "Slurp!" That's what it's like. I like bears a lot though they're pretty cool. I wouldn't like to just fight with them.

(How to save electricity)

*Turn off lights
*Be Amish
*Live in the woods
*Bonfires
*Be homeless
*Unplug dryer and shake dry
*Take cold showers
*Don't do anything
*Blow up the electricity company
*Rip out your neighbors electrical lines
*Shoot out your lights
*Get rid of your TV and hide in your neighbors bushes and watch thier TV Just don't knock on their window and say "Hey, turn it up." They'll know you're there then.

(A good investment and a bad investment)
I bought a tattoo that was cool. The needle didn't feel nice and I think the guy who did it was into drugs. But it was a good investment it was worth it. I think I'll get lots of chicks b/c of it. A bad investment was when I got the salad bar and some cheez stix at a restaurant. I was REALLY hungry and I had plenty of $ so I thought, "Hey" and I ordered lots but after like 3 bites I was Ll "Uhh, I'm stuffed." That was stupid of me it cost a lot and I felt sick. My tattoo is better than a salad. Although, you can't eat my tattoo, unless you're a freak like on that movie "Alive" when they ate that ladies flesh. They were just supposed to play soccer, not eat flesh!

(Something about the middle east and what you want to do with laws. Not really sure, they start to get whackier. And please remember that I wasn't this dumb, just this bored.)
I think we should blow up all of the Middle East, even the countries we like. Those sand people always get you in the end. Sadam Hussein would have been a really bad leader if he was VOTED in. I think our guns are pretty good now-a-days. WE can shoot pretty far and do LOTS of damage. Iraq is supposed to be really big on American TV shows like "Mama's Family" or so they say. Those big ships we keep sending over there are pretty big. I bet they'd be pretty scary to see coming across the water. If I were the president I would make it illegal to NOT turn right on red. I always get stuck behind some doofus. I think it would be nice if it were legal to knock down people on bikes.

(People that bother you)
My brother
Mrs. (teacher in high school)
Communists
Chipmunks, especially when they make that noise.
My boss
Freakin Santa always wantin' me to be nice.
Drunk girls at parties
Mexicans who stand in the road.
Big mecanics who think you should pay $95 for new brakes like it's their car and then they say that they can't let you go.
Drunk girls at McDonalds
People who ring bells and ask for $
Old women who think you're cute
Drunk girls who go trick-or-treating at 3 in the morning.
Drunk girls that puke when you're trying to make a move.

(Opinion on prayer in school)
I was thinking about prayer and I decided it would be best if kids could say a little prayer, it's like Madonna when she said "poppa, don't preach, I'm in love again." It's more like "teacher don't preach, these kids can't handle it." God is everywhere and everyone can talk to him so why can't you be in Geometry and be like "God you're cool." Because sometimes we all need to talk to God. especially at school. Yep, God knows what we're going thru so I think the teachers need to get rectified (?). We need a new Crusades where we go thru the schools and chop people's heads off if they don't let you pray (Tell me, dorks. Was this written pre-Columbine? Today's kids would be put in sand people jail for writing that!) We'll be like "Pray" and if they say "No" We'll go "Arrr" and hit them with an axe.

(Scariest movie? What do you think of Halloween?)
Scariest movie is the original "Night of the Living Dead". Oh boy, I almost wet my pants every time I see that one. They try to burn them zombies but they can't do it. They all die but these two people live but they get shot. This little girl eats HER OWN MOTHER. Ahhhh! My god, my mother would take my driving privelages away if I even thought about eating her (no snickers, you sick fuck dorks). But this girl did it (hehe). She went "Ahh-Chomp-Chomp". And then she got shot. I once saw this kid walking around on Haloween with a shovel sticking out of his head. I thought it was a pretty scary costume. I got scared. The kid kept saying, "For the love of God, it's real, call the paramedics." Sure enought it was for real and he died, but he was very scary.

(Current event or space bugs.)
Starship Troopers is a very current even. It's the biggest movie about killer bugs since "Schindler's List". I like it. It's making a lot of $ I hear they are going to take all the $ it's making and give it to the poor people for welfare. That will solve the problem. What if those space bugs were real. I bet I would hide if I saw one. But if there was a girl around I'd stop hiding and kill some space bugs. BOOM-BOOM that would be my gun. Those space bugs would be like "AHHHHH" and I'd go "Ha-ha-ha" or "Ho-ho-ho" if I felt like all Christmasey. I like Christmas. But I like Starship Troopers better. I've seen it twice. I want to see it again. I only saw Schindler's List once. It was good. It was about Nazis.

(Something you want to change about yourself)
I would like to change my height. I wish I was 20 ft. tall and all the people would say "Hey tall guy" and if I didn't like them I'd go "Arrrr" and step on their heads. So there. I want to keep my head though, it is good to have around. I once saw a guy get his head taken off and he wasn't happy. It was on a Popeye cartoon so he didn't die, but he was sad. Popey was cool. He like spinach. Have you ever tried spinach on your pizza (teacher response: nope) it is good.

(New Year's resolution)
My New Year's resolution can best be summed up in a poem by Shel Silverstein (a.k.a. Best Rapper Alive).

I came upon a box and opened it up wide and gasped to see a dead body dead inside.
There was a note attached that he'd decided to leave that only said... "I forgot to breathe".
That's all .. I resolve to remember too breathe.

(Million dollar house or million dollar car?)
I'd want a car I'd put all sorts of things on it like guns and wheels and paint. It'd be like r-r-r-r-r-Purring like a kitten. All the girls would be like "Hey, big Brent boy" and I'd be like "Hey, baby" than their boyfriends would be like "Hey you, go away" than I'd pull out my rocket launcher and be all KA-BOOM and they'd go "splat" so than I'd tell their woman to get in and she'd love me because my car is really cool. I'd be like Burt Reynolds on Smokey and the Bandit. "This is the Bandit," I'd say. "No, it's Brent," they'd say. Then I'd run them over with my car. I'd be mean, real mean and I could live in my car. I don't need a house my car is cool. Vroom-Vroom all aboard the fast car machine!

(Interesting?)
Something that I find interesting is Madonna. She's the material girl and she don't want her poppa to preach. I think she's cool. She's all like "If I want to wear cones on my breasts and get freaky then that's my business." She had that book named Sex. Taht's a good name for a book. If I were to write a book it not be about sex though it would be about grizzly bears. I bet Madonna wouldn't think twice about shooting a grizzly bear because she's a superstar and probably a jerk.

(Write about mean, median and mode)
(Nope.)

That's about it for my career math writing career. You see, dorks, it takes a lot of time and talk about grizzlies to be a world class writer like I am. dorksdontrock is what it is today thanks to my time in Coach Head Guy's class. I'll never forget you, Coach Head Guy With Glasses.
And I'll never forget you dorks. You are all so cute.
(Psssst, I found my creative writing stuff too..... shhhhhhh).
Weekend, dorks.




|

4/01/2004

It's now time for "Brent Explains the U.S. Foreign Theater by Pretending He's Iraq and Chicken Nuggets are Oil"

Me: (sititng around in my apartment, eating chicken nuggets and watching T.V.) Man, I fucking love chicken nuggets. No shit, these are awesome with honey or bbq sauce.

TV News Guy: Chicken nuggets make people fly. It's incredible but true.

Me: Shit, I better save some of these.

America: (busting down my door) Give us the chicken nuggets!

Me: No, I like them and they are mine.

America: (setting fire to my Adidas) There we burnt your shoes, now give us nuggets.

Me: What?!? No, now I want to give you nuggets even less.

America: You're insane! You kill babies! Give us the nuggets!

Me: Why are you here? This is my apartment.

America: Are you threatening us? Where do you hide your b.b. guns?!?! Nuggets! You are insane!

(Ten years later)

America: Can we have nuggets now?

Me: No. Use your Texas nuggets.

TV News Guy: Dr. Phil has been murdered by not Brent.

America: Dammit! You're insane and killed Dr. Phil. Always remember Dr. Phil! give us nuggets! You will pay for Dr. Phil's death. You own a flamethrower! A nuclear weapon is your pillow! (America breaks my plates and DVDs and sets fire to my couch ... and then shoots a puppy.)

Me: (Throwing an unbroken plate at America) Dammit! Get out of my apartment without nuggets.

America: You attacked us! You are insane! You killed us! Why did you not lay down and die? Why do you fight back? Why don't nuggets give us you? We nuggets, you have, we kill, you no curl up and let us burn your puppies! NUGGETS! DR. PHIL! HIGHER NUGGET PRICES! KILL YOU, DON'T KILL US!

... we will be back in Fallujah. It will be at the time and place of our choosing. We will hunt down the criminals.
-Brig. Gen. Mark Kimmitt

"Hey, how come you always step on my burnt flesh head after I kill your sister?"

Stupid, dorks. You're being lied to. Punch the world and the elephants fall off their towers.
In happier news R. Pillowcase and I are about done with unpacking, electrical sockets and "RARGRRRHH". After two long days of no sleep, Taco Time and up-down stairs we are ready to enjoy the fruits of our laboratory.
We (I'm speaking for R. Silent here when really I'm unsure of her feelings on this subject, but if I'm wrong we'll just call it fiction) had the idea that moving in would be a magical process. Much like Disney Land. Yes, dorks, exactly like Disney Land, no need to rethink that thought ... just run with it, Brent.
"Oh, look, Goofy and Donald have come by to help move the couch."
"Peter Pan did such a nice job setting up the shower curtain!"
"Wow, Bugs Bunny, not only are you a Looney Tunes character and therefore an anachronism in this move-in fantasy, but you are also great at setting up a washer and dryer."
And now I've lost my train of thought and I'm too wiped out to buy another ticket.
Dorks, dorks, dorks.





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