As of today I am on the gummint teat and it is sweet! That's right, allayouyoung whippersnappers, I turned 62 at 5:sumpin,sumpin this morning. I want all of you to have a piece of birthday cake, tell old fart jokes and GET THE HELL OFFA MY LAWN!
Gosh, Mr. Serrh8rd, thinking of me on my birthday! I'm sorry that the rest of you will just have to take my word for it, but he's such a kidder!
Dear Serr8rd:
Thank you so much for thinking of me, honey.
I wondered, for a while, why you used that photo of Val Kilmer and while reading this, it just clicked. He's a real man pretending to be someone else and you're someone else, pretending to be a real man.
I hope you wiped all of the body fluids off of your screen after sending that little mash note. Now that I think of it, you prolly have a winsdhield wiper mounted on the top of it, the need to wipe off body fluids being somewhat contstant. Ta.
Congrats for getting on the teat while the sweet government cheese is still flowing. Mrs. Bukko did that from all the way where we were living Down Under, as soon as she was eligibobble. (She's a touch older than me. Not sure if I'll ever get my SS, eh?) We know it's a lesser payment, but our thinking was that it's better to get 80% of something than 100% of nothing.
Same reason we took her entire University of Clownifornia retirement benefits as a lumpy sum payout, instead of the "guaranteed cheques for the rest of your life" (or until the pension system says "Oops, we ain't got no more money. Please eat catfood and die.") Paid more than $100,000 of it in taxes, but had enough left over to allow us to spend a month in Europe each year.
Matter of fact, we've been there twice in 2011. Both times was with the secondary purpose of making a slow-mo run on the bank. It's gotten to the point where I don't even have full faith and confidence in the freaking Swiss banking system, so we're quietly sneaking shiny stuff out to where we can bury it in the dirt. Not sayin' which country, though, so don't ask.
You'd be more interested in the food we ate over there ennyway. Spent five days in a hotel that occupies a converted minor nobleman's palace in a hilltop town in Tuscany. Fark was the food ever fantastic! We did not have a bad meal at any time in Italia, and we ate at everyplace from classy wineries to the only place in town that stayed open after everyone else had gone to bed. Plus it's truffle time, so we got to eat the black AND (more expensive) white varieties. Those things are like eating sex.
Eye-ties can make mundane ingredients taste marvelous. I hope up where you live the Italians are authentic enough to have their hometown zest show through in the kitchen. I don't know what it is -- maybe something in the water? -- but once they get to North America, they lose the magic they show on their own soil.
P.S. Yer ol' pal Frstr88d certainly has a hard-on for ya, eh? He wants to have hatemansex with yez, I can just feel it. You KNOW he feels himself when he thinks of you.
No, the Italian's in my little, insular, parochial, inbred, lowbrow town don't got that "zest" thing down.
The best place to eat is called "La Parilla" (spanish for "howmuch money you got, anyway?") which is run by a youngish (he's somewhere around 40, I think) guy with some serious private catering chops (Jerry Seinfeld and some ultrarichfucks down WS way) and did everything from peelin' spuds to being the chef de cuisine in some ladida jernt. Ray Jacque is not full of himself, he's a big fan of Mario Batalli and he fucking LOVES food. Eat, drink, cook, talk, fuck a cantaloupe (well, not Ray, but maybe Patriot Boy!) he's down wid it.
He's doing a Thanksgiving feed for anybody who has no place to go and shows up. Last year he fed 25, the same way he feeds all of the swells.
I'm blogging part-time over at "Mikeb302000" an anti-assholez wit teh gunz blog. I was asked to come aboard 'cuz they needed someone with my particular way of diplomatically telling fucking assholes to go fucking fuck their fucking selves, the fuckers. Shit8r goes over there, along with a few other complete fuckwads. I haven't seen his ugly fizz since I started posting, it's only a matter of time. Come by and hoist a pint with us, then lift your leg and piss in the ear of the gunreich dysintelligentsia while you tell them it's raining*.
* Truth to tell, I think some of them might like to KNOW that you're pissing in their ear, it heightens the thrill for them.
7 comments:
Gosh, Mr. Serrh8rd, thinking of me on my birthday! I'm sorry that the rest of you will just have to take my word for it, but he's such a kidder!
Dear Serr8rd:
Thank you so much for thinking of me, honey.
I wondered, for a while, why you used that photo of Val Kilmer and while reading this, it just clicked. He's a real man pretending to be someone else and you're someone else, pretending to be a real man.
I hope you wiped all of the body fluids off of your screen after sending that little mash note. Now that I think of it, you prolly have a winsdhield wiper mounted on the top of it, the need to wipe off body fluids being somewhat contstant. Ta.
Congrats for getting on the teat while the sweet government cheese is still flowing. Mrs. Bukko did that from all the way where we were living Down Under, as soon as she was eligibobble. (She's a touch older than me. Not sure if I'll ever get my SS, eh?) We know it's a lesser payment, but our thinking was that it's better to get 80% of something than 100% of nothing.
Same reason we took her entire University of Clownifornia retirement benefits as a lumpy sum payout, instead of the "guaranteed cheques for the rest of your life" (or until the pension system says "Oops, we ain't got no more money. Please eat catfood and die.") Paid more than $100,000 of it in taxes, but had enough left over to allow us to spend a month in Europe each year.
Matter of fact, we've been there twice in 2011. Both times was with the secondary purpose of making a slow-mo run on the bank. It's gotten to the point where I don't even have full faith and confidence in the freaking Swiss banking system, so we're quietly sneaking shiny stuff out to where we can bury it in the dirt. Not sayin' which country, though, so don't ask.
You'd be more interested in the food we ate over there ennyway. Spent five days in a hotel that occupies a converted minor nobleman's palace in a hilltop town in Tuscany. Fark was the food ever fantastic! We did not have a bad meal at any time in Italia, and we ate at everyplace from classy wineries to the only place in town that stayed open after everyone else had gone to bed. Plus it's truffle time, so we got to eat the black AND (more expensive) white varieties. Those things are like eating sex.
Eye-ties can make mundane ingredients taste marvelous. I hope up where you live the Italians are authentic enough to have their hometown zest show through in the kitchen. I don't know what it is -- maybe something in the water? -- but once they get to North America, they lose the magic they show on their own soil.
P.S. Yer ol' pal Frstr88d certainly has a hard-on for ya, eh? He wants to have hatemansex with yez, I can just feel it. You KNOW he feels himself when he thinks of you.
Brother Bukko Canukko:
No, the Italian's in my little, insular, parochial, inbred, lowbrow town don't got that "zest" thing down.
The best place to eat is called "La Parilla" (spanish for "howmuch money you got, anyway?") which is run by a youngish (he's somewhere around 40, I think) guy with some serious private catering chops (Jerry Seinfeld and some ultrarichfucks down WS way) and did everything from peelin' spuds to being the chef de cuisine in some ladida jernt. Ray Jacque is not full of himself, he's a big fan of Mario Batalli and he fucking LOVES food. Eat, drink, cook, talk, fuck a cantaloupe (well, not Ray, but maybe Patriot Boy!) he's down wid it.
He's doing a Thanksgiving feed for anybody who has no place to go and shows up. Last year he fed 25, the same way he feeds all of the swells.
I'm blogging part-time over at "Mikeb302000" an anti-assholez wit teh gunz blog. I was asked to come aboard 'cuz they needed someone with my particular way of diplomatically telling fucking assholes to go fucking fuck their fucking selves, the fuckers. Shit8r goes over there, along with a few other complete fuckwads. I haven't seen his ugly fizz since I started posting, it's only a matter of time. Come by and hoist a pint with us, then lift your leg and piss in the ear of the gunreich dysintelligentsia while you tell them it's raining*.
* Truth to tell, I think some of them might like to KNOW that you're pissing in their ear, it heightens the thrill for them.
Happy birthday Terry!
Thank you, thank you. I love having my b'day last a long, long time:-)
jim:
I've been a member of the OFC since I was 27!
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