Today I find myself in a bit of a dilemma. It all started last week during Thanksgiving. Lilly, the woman I have been dating, invited me to spend the week with her family up in Cawker, Kansas. I’m sure most of you have heard of that town because it the home of the world’s largest ball of sisal twine. That’s right; their claim to fame is an 18,000 pound ball of twine.
Against my better judgment, I decided to make the trip with her because I am hooked on her hooch. She has some of the best poon my meat-baton has ever beaten, and she is a freak. When I say freak, I don’t mean that she likes to do it with the lights on or likes being on top, I mean the girl is Manson crazy in the sack. Example: I was taking her to my parent’s church to show her off and she buffed her muffin for me on the ride there. I almost hit a big homeless dog while watching her. Another example: I have a great deal of stamina when it comes to saucing the clam, but this girl even has me beat. One night after we had a sex marathon, she wanted more and I was played out, so she pulled out this dildo that could pass for one of those big holiday sausage logs. This thing was at least 14 inches long and as big around as a tube of Black Jack. I thought she may be able to take about a 1/3 of it but she ended up taking just about the entire thing and loved it. Honestly, I had mixed emotions about that because I didnt know if that should scare me or really turn me on. For the record, it did both. Overall, she is my kind of girl, so I didn’t mind spending a week in hell for her.
For the most part, it was a good trip. Her father is pretty cool. He has blood circulation problems in his legs and he isn’t able to walk long distances. He loves fishing but with his leg problems he really can’t get out, so they bought a home that had an in-ground swimming pool and he turned it into his own personal fishing hole. It is filled with creek and rain water and he has stocked it with bass, cat fish and carp. He has even put their old Christmas trees out there to give the fish several places to live. I’m not much of a fisherman, but I even caught a pretty big bass (I’d say it weighed about 5 pounds) and fought another one for about 5 minutes before it broke my line.
The food was good. Lilly’s mom doesn’t cook dressing in a pan; she makes dressing balls which was a first for me. I didn’t think they were as good as my NaNa’s dressing, but they were still pretty decent. During the entire time we were there they played old Christmas music: The Time Life Christmas Collection, The Ventures, Merle Haggard, G.F. Handel, John Rutter and a host of others. I know this because I had to play DJ for most of the week. Also, her mom likes to have awkward conversations. One time she asked me if I knew if my mom had hemorrhoids. I told her I didnt know and she proceeded to tell me that her hemorrhoid cream had stopped working and she was now "backed up".
The best part about the trip was getting to nail Lilly in her parent’s home. It was almost as if I was back in high school sneaking around and drilling girls while their parents were asleep. I popped Lilly in her old room, on the kitchen table at 2 in the morning, on the living room couch and even got some head from Lilly in the bathroom while her mom was in the next room singing with Bing Crosby and popping up some kettle corn.
Anyway, on our way home, Lilly was telling me how much fun she had and we were having one of those deep conversations. She was telling me how when she was in college her dad had lost his job and she had to start working as a waitress in some fancy restaurant/hotel to help for her college tuition. She said she was always complaining to some of the women in there about not making enough money and one of them told her she should start “light hooking” with some of the restaurant clientele because she could earn more money with one regular customer than she could in a month of waitressing.
She told me that for the rest of her time in college (about 2.5 years) she “light hooked” and was able to pay for college, buy a car and had plenty of spending money. She explained to me that “light hooking” isnt outright whoring, but rather it was having a few regular guys pay her to have sex with them. She said she never had over 4 guys and that 2 of the guys were her “constants” over her time of light hooking. Once she graduated college she moved away and claims to have retired from her days as a light hooker, but I really don’t know that I believe her.
So today I am torn. On one had I want to keep dating her because the sex is out of this world and I really think I could marry her, but on the other hand she is a whore, but not really because she claims to have only been with 7 guys in her life (8 counting me) and I really don’t consider that a whore.
I have a decision to make.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Friday, November 9, 2007
Lilly
The Tuesday night date was fairly typical. We met at a little Italian place, had a bite to eat, had some drinks, had some laughs and just enjoyed ourselves. She told me some ER stories that I pretended to think were hilarious, but in reality, the only thing on my mind was shagging her. She was wearing a pink sweater due to the cold snap we are having which meant she wasn’t showing much skin, but her nipples were bulging out; I wondered if she was wearing a bra. This, of course, led me to wonder if she was wearing any panties.
We ended up in my car making out. I was able to determine that she was not wearing a bra, but she was wearing panties. She caressed my clam hammer. Eventually, she was able to put a halt to our heavy petting and said she needed to get home……cock tease. I was left with a throbbing case of the navy balls. You guys know exactly what I’m talking about: The type that feels like a dwarf is between your legs holding your marbles and squeezing them just enough to make you feel like you need to puke.
Once I was home, and after I finished the job Lilly had started, I listened to my phone messages. There was one from Lilly: Hey, Stump. Please don’t hate me. I had a great time tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow.
Around 11 am Wednesday, Lilly called:
Lilly: Hey. How are you doing?
Me: I’m fine, just working.
Lilly: You want to do anything tonight?
Me: Sure. What did you have in mind?
Lilly: I’m working today, so I am going to be tired.
Me: You want to just hang out at my house and drink some beer?
Lilly: laughing Sounds like fun. I’ll be over there around 8.
To be honest, I wasn’t looking for much out of her. Once a girl teases me like she did, I normally just ignore them, but since she was making the effort and I had nothing better to do, I didn’t see the harm in letting her come over.
Considering that I had already spent a good deal of money on her the night before, I damn sure wasn’t going to spend much money for this date, so I bought a case of Rolling Rock, some hamburger meat and a bag of Golden Flake potato chips (Thin & Crispy).
When Lilly got to my house, we grabbed a couple of beers and walked out onto my deck to grill-up the burgers. After a little bit of chit-chat, Lilly comes over to me and starts kissing on my neck and whispering into my ear: I promise I’m not gonna run off tonight.
With that, it was on. We started kissing and soon I had her up against my french doors with her shirt pulled up around her neck and sucking on her nipples.
Not long thereafter, we were in my room and I was pounding her smackey like a champ. I had her legs over my shoulders wailing away on her. It didn’t last long, but it didn’t have to.
Afterwards, we were laying there talking, she was telling me how much she enjoyed it and I was half listening to her while trying to watch the football game that was on. Suddenly, out on my deck I see a huge fire. It was my grill and it was flaming. In my lust, I had forgotten to turn my grill down and the hamburger grease had leaked down onto the cooking element which caused a huge fire. I ran out there, still naked, and got the grill turned off. Lilly was out there, wrapped in a sheet and laughing her ass off. I told her I didn’t think it was funny and she asked me if I thought she needed a spanking. She then dropped the sheet and bent over the railing of my deck – she didn’t get a spanking.
As I was behind her churning butter, I glanced over to my backdoor neighbor’s house and see my elderly neighbor staring at us through his kitchen window. He’s just standing there staring. I thought about stopping, but Lilly seemed to really be enjoying herself and I’m not one to leave a job half finished, so I just picked up my pace and concentrated on the task at hand. I finished her off and we went back inside.
Thursday morning I was rolling my trash can out to the curb and, as usual, “Tom” came by. He did like he always does; he stopped, rolled down his window and asked me my thoughts on the game this weekend. I told him I thought Bama would win by at least 17 and he said: I think it will be at least 24 points.
After he said that, he says: You didn’t ruin your grill last night did you?
I informed him that I thought my grill was fine and he just kinda half-laughed and drove off.
We ended up in my car making out. I was able to determine that she was not wearing a bra, but she was wearing panties. She caressed my clam hammer. Eventually, she was able to put a halt to our heavy petting and said she needed to get home……cock tease. I was left with a throbbing case of the navy balls. You guys know exactly what I’m talking about: The type that feels like a dwarf is between your legs holding your marbles and squeezing them just enough to make you feel like you need to puke.
Once I was home, and after I finished the job Lilly had started, I listened to my phone messages. There was one from Lilly: Hey, Stump. Please don’t hate me. I had a great time tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow.
Around 11 am Wednesday, Lilly called:
Lilly: Hey. How are you doing?
Me: I’m fine, just working.
Lilly: You want to do anything tonight?
Me: Sure. What did you have in mind?
Lilly: I’m working today, so I am going to be tired.
Me: You want to just hang out at my house and drink some beer?
Lilly: laughing Sounds like fun. I’ll be over there around 8.
To be honest, I wasn’t looking for much out of her. Once a girl teases me like she did, I normally just ignore them, but since she was making the effort and I had nothing better to do, I didn’t see the harm in letting her come over.
Considering that I had already spent a good deal of money on her the night before, I damn sure wasn’t going to spend much money for this date, so I bought a case of Rolling Rock, some hamburger meat and a bag of Golden Flake potato chips (Thin & Crispy).
When Lilly got to my house, we grabbed a couple of beers and walked out onto my deck to grill-up the burgers. After a little bit of chit-chat, Lilly comes over to me and starts kissing on my neck and whispering into my ear: I promise I’m not gonna run off tonight.
With that, it was on. We started kissing and soon I had her up against my french doors with her shirt pulled up around her neck and sucking on her nipples.
Not long thereafter, we were in my room and I was pounding her smackey like a champ. I had her legs over my shoulders wailing away on her. It didn’t last long, but it didn’t have to.
Afterwards, we were laying there talking, she was telling me how much she enjoyed it and I was half listening to her while trying to watch the football game that was on. Suddenly, out on my deck I see a huge fire. It was my grill and it was flaming. In my lust, I had forgotten to turn my grill down and the hamburger grease had leaked down onto the cooking element which caused a huge fire. I ran out there, still naked, and got the grill turned off. Lilly was out there, wrapped in a sheet and laughing her ass off. I told her I didn’t think it was funny and she asked me if I thought she needed a spanking. She then dropped the sheet and bent over the railing of my deck – she didn’t get a spanking.
As I was behind her churning butter, I glanced over to my backdoor neighbor’s house and see my elderly neighbor staring at us through his kitchen window. He’s just standing there staring. I thought about stopping, but Lilly seemed to really be enjoying herself and I’m not one to leave a job half finished, so I just picked up my pace and concentrated on the task at hand. I finished her off and we went back inside.
Thursday morning I was rolling my trash can out to the curb and, as usual, “Tom” came by. He did like he always does; he stopped, rolled down his window and asked me my thoughts on the game this weekend. I told him I thought Bama would win by at least 17 and he said: I think it will be at least 24 points.
After he said that, he says: You didn’t ruin your grill last night did you?
I informed him that I thought my grill was fine and he just kinda half-laughed and drove off.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
The ER
I had plans to go to the Alabama/LSU game. The only problem I had was that it was my weekend with Luke (my son). I called Jana on Thursday and explained the situation, and to my surprise, she recommended that I come and get him Thursday afternoon, keep him that night, hang out with him on Friday, bring him home Friday night and then get him again this weekend. Damn I thought. What’s gotten into her other than large amounts of dick?
Not wanting to risk her turning into the Incredible Bitch, I ran on over and picked up my boy.
When you are a single dad with a 9 month old, there’s really not a whole lot for you to do. Normally, after I pick him up, I will go by McDonalds, get him a chicken nugget happy meal and take him to my house. Then the standards are him watching one or two Baby Einstein videos (those things are amazing, btw. You parents with young children should invest in them if you haven’t already), an hours worth of Peek-A-Boo and his favorite; Superfly.
Superfly is really quite simple. It involves me sitting Luke on the couch, he then jumps off onto my chest/stomach and I act like he has absolutely destroyed me. He could play this game all day and night, but eventually my chest starts hurting so I will drag out an air mattress and let him jump off onto that. Its name, of course, derives from the great Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka.
As we were playing, my phone rang, so I jumped up to answer it and left Luke sitting on the floor. It was a friend and he was going over our plans for Saturday:
A. Leave around 9
B. Buy beer
C. Drink beer
That was pretty much our plan.
We were talking about some other things to do once we got there and then I hear CRASH!!!! and then very loud scream-crying. In all my time with Luke, not once has he ever been able to climb up on the couch by himself, but apparently, he has now learned how to do just that. While I was having my phone conversation, he had climbed up on the couch and decided to do a nose dive onto the floor.
He was lying on the floor screaming his head off. Holy shit! What do I do?
I picked him up and tried to console him but his crying just got worse and it wasn’t some little cry, he was screaming like he was being slowly tortured by the Vietkong. I walked him outside and was able to get him somewhat calmed down by calling up my dog, but his crying never really stopped and I noticed he was favoring his left arm. I tried to feel it to see if I could feel any broken bones, but that just made his crying worse.
What am I going to do? I thought, so I did what any single-dumb-father would do, I called my mom. She told me that I needed to take him to the ER and that I probably needed to call Jana. What the hell do you know? I’m not calling that crazy bitch and telling her I just broke our sons arm. She is always telling me that I play too rough with him, and I damn sure don’t want that lecture. With that, I decided that I would take Luke to the ER on my own.
I fumbled around, managed to get a bag ready, got him loaded into the car and off we went.
We got to the ER in record time. Thankfully, it wasn’t all that crowded and Luke had stopped crying for the most part, so I thought this would be a quick visit…..boy was I wrong.
I got him signed in and then we sat down. About 3 minutes later, some piece of white-trash wearing a Confederate flag shirt that said Its not a redneck thang it’s the right thang, a pair of tattered blue jeans and a dumb look on his face comes staggering over to me telling me his sob story.
Me and my wife were in a car wreck……sumbitch my knee is killing me…..and she is over at that other hospital…..is my head bleeding?.......and I am at this hospital. It’s not but three…..I think I bit half my tongue off…..its not but three blocks that way and they won’t let me leave. Do you think you could give me a ride over there?
There was a hard liquor fog following him around which was mixed hippie stink. I told the guy that I was waiting to see a Dr. and that I couldn’t leave the ER. He started to get a little belligerent towards me. The only weapons I had was a Diego sippy cup, my car keys and an old Cosmo that I had rolled up. Thankfully, a police officer, one of the many I would see this night, came around the corner and Otis decided he would go beg for a ride somewhere else.
Shortly after that, I was called back to the area where you see a doctor. I’m sure it’s like most ER’s around the country: Several rooms closed off by sheets with a bed in each room.
Immediately, a really hot nurse caught my attention. She was wearing Alabama scrubs and even though she wasn’t wearing any makeup and her hair was in a ponytail, she was still very, very hot. The great thing about nurse scrubs is that you can always tell if a female nurse is a freak or if she is an Aunt Bea because the panty line is always visible. If you can see the granny-panty line, she is an Aunt Bea, but if you see a freak-line, or no line at all, it normally means she has a wild side to her. This nurse, Lilly, had no visible panty line and she had an ass that should of come with its own song; Salt Shaker by the Ying Yang Twins would by my choice. Damn! She was fine.
Despite the fact that I wanted to focus my energy on scoring with Lilly, I had to give all my attention to Luke. He wanted to play with everything in the room and over the last couple of months, I have heard some horror stories about staph infections and I didn't want to take him back to Jana with a broken arm plus an infection that could possibly kill him, so I was trying to keep him from touching anything. Thankfully, being the great father that I am, I came prepared; Plain M&M’s. Not one of those little pussy small packs, but one of those big bags that cost, like, $7. I whipped out the pack and in no time he was in my lap focusing all of his attention on downing a handful of the M&M’s.
This, of course, allowed me to focus some attention on Lilly. She was sitting out at the nurse’s station and she kept looking back in my direction, so I knew she wanted me. Unfortunately, there was a bipolar woman next door to me that was crying over the fact that they had apparently stuffed a muffler up her nose and it was hurting. She had this cough that sounded like a cat trying to pass a hairball and she was saying that she was about to puke. Please! Somebody help me! It hurts! I’m gonna puke!. And with that, she puked and she puked and she puked and then she puked some more. There’s blood in it! Oh, God. There’s blood in it! I'm dying.
While Puke Woman was over there spilling her guts in the floor, a stab victim was wheeled in. I came to learn that he had been stabbed in the neck by his girlfriend and his mom thought she had hit his “jigular vein” because he was “bleeding a lot” and it was “really dark”.
Of course, with all of this ongoing, Luke was not a high priority on the emergency list, and honestly, he wasn’t even acting like he was hurting anymore. He still wasn’t using his arm, but he wasn’t crying.
The next 4 hours were probably the longest 4 hours of my life. Chaos was all around me, Luke had long periods of crying and I was really worried that someone was going to come in and shoot the place up. The only thing that helped me was the fact that Lilly kept coming into the room flirting with me. She brought me some Sprite for Luke, some Ruby Tuesday’s that she had ordered, some Tylenol for the excruciating headache that I developed and some much needed conversation.
I learned that she’s recently divorced, no kids, lives in an apartment, drives a Toyota Forerunner, likes to play racquetball and is fluent in Spanish.
At 1:30 am, after I had witnessed a fight between the girl that stabbed her boyfriend and his mother, got to hear Otis tear into a doctor over his jacket and saw a group of Mexicans throw a birthday party; I learned that Luke had no broken bones. They gave him some Motrin for the pain and told me that I should take him to his pediatrician if he kept acting like his arm was hurting. I did, however, walk out with Lilly’s phone # and plans for a date with her on Tuesday night.
to be continued
Not wanting to risk her turning into the Incredible Bitch, I ran on over and picked up my boy.
When you are a single dad with a 9 month old, there’s really not a whole lot for you to do. Normally, after I pick him up, I will go by McDonalds, get him a chicken nugget happy meal and take him to my house. Then the standards are him watching one or two Baby Einstein videos (those things are amazing, btw. You parents with young children should invest in them if you haven’t already), an hours worth of Peek-A-Boo and his favorite; Superfly.
Superfly is really quite simple. It involves me sitting Luke on the couch, he then jumps off onto my chest/stomach and I act like he has absolutely destroyed me. He could play this game all day and night, but eventually my chest starts hurting so I will drag out an air mattress and let him jump off onto that. Its name, of course, derives from the great Jimmy “Superfly” Snuka.
As we were playing, my phone rang, so I jumped up to answer it and left Luke sitting on the floor. It was a friend and he was going over our plans for Saturday:
A. Leave around 9
B. Buy beer
C. Drink beer
That was pretty much our plan.
We were talking about some other things to do once we got there and then I hear CRASH!!!! and then very loud scream-crying. In all my time with Luke, not once has he ever been able to climb up on the couch by himself, but apparently, he has now learned how to do just that. While I was having my phone conversation, he had climbed up on the couch and decided to do a nose dive onto the floor.
He was lying on the floor screaming his head off. Holy shit! What do I do?
I picked him up and tried to console him but his crying just got worse and it wasn’t some little cry, he was screaming like he was being slowly tortured by the Vietkong. I walked him outside and was able to get him somewhat calmed down by calling up my dog, but his crying never really stopped and I noticed he was favoring his left arm. I tried to feel it to see if I could feel any broken bones, but that just made his crying worse.
What am I going to do? I thought, so I did what any single-dumb-father would do, I called my mom. She told me that I needed to take him to the ER and that I probably needed to call Jana. What the hell do you know? I’m not calling that crazy bitch and telling her I just broke our sons arm. She is always telling me that I play too rough with him, and I damn sure don’t want that lecture. With that, I decided that I would take Luke to the ER on my own.
I fumbled around, managed to get a bag ready, got him loaded into the car and off we went.
We got to the ER in record time. Thankfully, it wasn’t all that crowded and Luke had stopped crying for the most part, so I thought this would be a quick visit…..boy was I wrong.
I got him signed in and then we sat down. About 3 minutes later, some piece of white-trash wearing a Confederate flag shirt that said Its not a redneck thang it’s the right thang, a pair of tattered blue jeans and a dumb look on his face comes staggering over to me telling me his sob story.
Me and my wife were in a car wreck……sumbitch my knee is killing me…..and she is over at that other hospital…..is my head bleeding?.......and I am at this hospital. It’s not but three…..I think I bit half my tongue off…..its not but three blocks that way and they won’t let me leave. Do you think you could give me a ride over there?
There was a hard liquor fog following him around which was mixed hippie stink. I told the guy that I was waiting to see a Dr. and that I couldn’t leave the ER. He started to get a little belligerent towards me. The only weapons I had was a Diego sippy cup, my car keys and an old Cosmo that I had rolled up. Thankfully, a police officer, one of the many I would see this night, came around the corner and Otis decided he would go beg for a ride somewhere else.
Shortly after that, I was called back to the area where you see a doctor. I’m sure it’s like most ER’s around the country: Several rooms closed off by sheets with a bed in each room.
Immediately, a really hot nurse caught my attention. She was wearing Alabama scrubs and even though she wasn’t wearing any makeup and her hair was in a ponytail, she was still very, very hot. The great thing about nurse scrubs is that you can always tell if a female nurse is a freak or if she is an Aunt Bea because the panty line is always visible. If you can see the granny-panty line, she is an Aunt Bea, but if you see a freak-line, or no line at all, it normally means she has a wild side to her. This nurse, Lilly, had no visible panty line and she had an ass that should of come with its own song; Salt Shaker by the Ying Yang Twins would by my choice. Damn! She was fine.
Despite the fact that I wanted to focus my energy on scoring with Lilly, I had to give all my attention to Luke. He wanted to play with everything in the room and over the last couple of months, I have heard some horror stories about staph infections and I didn't want to take him back to Jana with a broken arm plus an infection that could possibly kill him, so I was trying to keep him from touching anything. Thankfully, being the great father that I am, I came prepared; Plain M&M’s. Not one of those little pussy small packs, but one of those big bags that cost, like, $7. I whipped out the pack and in no time he was in my lap focusing all of his attention on downing a handful of the M&M’s.
This, of course, allowed me to focus some attention on Lilly. She was sitting out at the nurse’s station and she kept looking back in my direction, so I knew she wanted me. Unfortunately, there was a bipolar woman next door to me that was crying over the fact that they had apparently stuffed a muffler up her nose and it was hurting. She had this cough that sounded like a cat trying to pass a hairball and she was saying that she was about to puke. Please! Somebody help me! It hurts! I’m gonna puke!. And with that, she puked and she puked and she puked and then she puked some more. There’s blood in it! Oh, God. There’s blood in it! I'm dying.
While Puke Woman was over there spilling her guts in the floor, a stab victim was wheeled in. I came to learn that he had been stabbed in the neck by his girlfriend and his mom thought she had hit his “jigular vein” because he was “bleeding a lot” and it was “really dark”.
Of course, with all of this ongoing, Luke was not a high priority on the emergency list, and honestly, he wasn’t even acting like he was hurting anymore. He still wasn’t using his arm, but he wasn’t crying.
The next 4 hours were probably the longest 4 hours of my life. Chaos was all around me, Luke had long periods of crying and I was really worried that someone was going to come in and shoot the place up. The only thing that helped me was the fact that Lilly kept coming into the room flirting with me. She brought me some Sprite for Luke, some Ruby Tuesday’s that she had ordered, some Tylenol for the excruciating headache that I developed and some much needed conversation.
I learned that she’s recently divorced, no kids, lives in an apartment, drives a Toyota Forerunner, likes to play racquetball and is fluent in Spanish.
At 1:30 am, after I had witnessed a fight between the girl that stabbed her boyfriend and his mother, got to hear Otis tear into a doctor over his jacket and saw a group of Mexicans throw a birthday party; I learned that Luke had no broken bones. They gave him some Motrin for the pain and told me that I should take him to his pediatrician if he kept acting like his arm was hurting. I did, however, walk out with Lilly’s phone # and plans for a date with her on Tuesday night.
to be continued
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Dog
Dear Dog,
Yesterday, I caught wind of your little quandary. I read it on Drudge and after reading it, I thought to myself; So he dropped the 'N' word, big deal, and then I went back to admiring my balls because they are freakin' HUGE.
Then, last night, after I had polished off the latest slut that is worshipping me, by the way, she loves my balls, too, I caught your David Duke rant on that TMZ show. Damn, man! What were you thinking? I lost count after about the 39th N-missile.
I watched this program one night as I was moisturizing my balls. It was about this skinhead leader in Alabama. His name was Bill (Go Figure) Riccio.
As you can see from the picture, Riccio looks like a bucket of pig shit covered in skin with a Leonard Pratt haircut. Anyway, the show revolved around him and a group of young men wearing Iron Maiden t-shirts and Red Man hats. They talked about their "perfect America" and how we need to get rid of blacks, Jews and Mexicans. The show was about an hour in length, and in that hour, I heard the "N" word less times than I did in your 1 minute phone conversation.
You are worried about people comparing you to Don Imus? All he said was nappy headed ho. You will be damn lucky if people compare you to Imus. If I were you, I'd be worried about people comparing me to Bull Connor, Wolfgang Droege and Catfish Cole.
Granted, you were able to bounce back after participating in a murder, but you used the "N" word countless times, Dog. You would have been better off raping Barbra Bush in front of a live tv audience while choking a litter of puppies.
You managed to build an empire even though you look like a haggard Dallas Page and have a wife who looks like she should be slaughtering cows in Idaho. I know you have a soft spot of burnt-out Samoans and abused women, but that can only get you so far in life.
You had it all, Dog, and now you have thrown it down the shitter. I really hope you are happy with yourself.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go admire my huge balls.
Best Wishes,
Stump
Yesterday, I caught wind of your little quandary. I read it on Drudge and after reading it, I thought to myself; So he dropped the 'N' word, big deal, and then I went back to admiring my balls because they are freakin' HUGE.
Then, last night, after I had polished off the latest slut that is worshipping me, by the way, she loves my balls, too, I caught your David Duke rant on that TMZ show. Damn, man! What were you thinking? I lost count after about the 39th N-missile.
I watched this program one night as I was moisturizing my balls. It was about this skinhead leader in Alabama. His name was Bill (Go Figure) Riccio.
As you can see from the picture, Riccio looks like a bucket of pig shit covered in skin with a Leonard Pratt haircut. Anyway, the show revolved around him and a group of young men wearing Iron Maiden t-shirts and Red Man hats. They talked about their "perfect America" and how we need to get rid of blacks, Jews and Mexicans. The show was about an hour in length, and in that hour, I heard the "N" word less times than I did in your 1 minute phone conversation.
You are worried about people comparing you to Don Imus? All he said was nappy headed ho. You will be damn lucky if people compare you to Imus. If I were you, I'd be worried about people comparing me to Bull Connor, Wolfgang Droege and Catfish Cole.
Granted, you were able to bounce back after participating in a murder, but you used the "N" word countless times, Dog. You would have been better off raping Barbra Bush in front of a live tv audience while choking a litter of puppies.
You managed to build an empire even though you look like a haggard Dallas Page and have a wife who looks like she should be slaughtering cows in Idaho. I know you have a soft spot of burnt-out Samoans and abused women, but that can only get you so far in life.
You had it all, Dog, and now you have thrown it down the shitter. I really hope you are happy with yourself.
Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go admire my huge balls.
Best Wishes,
Stump
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