Thursday, March 31, 2011

The Choices That Define Us

Fuck. I guess that always a good way to start a conversation. Especially if that conversation takes place between yourself and the keys of your computer. Ok ass if you have to call me out on the fact it technically isn't a conversation but a quiet form of mind masturbation as your phalanges vigorously strike down from one letter to the next as you try to piece together some coherent thoughts creating a brain spluge of an idea. Now thats what I call a "conversation". At least the kind I am currently having so as to keep myself (and whatever blogulation out there reading this) entertained.

So what can I discuss.... hmmmmmmm. I could always play the what's on my mind game....... Ya lets do that for a quick moment. QUE RANDOM PICTURES TO HELP DESCRIBE MY THOUGHTS!!!!!


Tiny Umbrellas.............. My thoughts exactly. Why and how did someone come up with this? Who was the first person to sit around and think, "Wow how much more refreshing would this drink be if there was a miniature portable sheltering tool placed delicately to the side of my straw?" your guess is as good as mine. Or maybe some real thirsty motherfucker was getting a drink, it started to rain and he only wanted his drink to be protected from the unnecessary watering down nature was taking the liberty to do for him. Or just maybe leprechauns are real and the only thing we have found to prove it was a very small umbrella...... that could be taking it a little too far but who cares.



While trying to find this lovely picture of a leprechaun with an umbrella i also found this....



Yes that is in fact a leprechaun riding an irish wolf hound. I know what will people think of next? Speaking of which back to my thoughts.





Clown shoes. I get it they are funny because they are too big for a normal foot. Does that mean clowns are suppose to have huge members? That wouldn't be very funny, that would be depressing in a way. Think about it some fricken clown all painted up and hoppen around, as happy as a child molester at the neighborhood sleep over, with a Goddamn dork in his pants (thats a term for a whale's penis if you didn't know). The really sad part is this pitiful excuse for a man most likely hates life and every miserable thing crawling in it. I prefer to think its just a gag and the man behind the paint is as misfortunately hung as the majority of males are.


Wow, these two thoughts do not sit well with me. No idea why they popped into my head and now I have no idea how to get them out.