-designing heating elements for coffee machines in the sunbelt,
Marion B. Ashleford
-Beegle M. Hooflarouex
-slicing skin off pig abdomens to separate bacon from pork rinds in a greasy ohio factory,
Fladdus Sen Perchery
-Speulunking my own natural mountainside garage,
Birmingham Fudgeknuckles
-Cordially, within the cavernous dwellings sequestered within my inner-being,
Chavez Vindigo
-Eat it,
The Cob
-in holy macaroni,
Juarma
-Peace,
Apollo
-Scabby Milkerton
-Virginia Roundanob
-Uranus
-dime lo que pasa!!
Luis San Chicharon!
-Hasta que los pedos me abandonen,
Josue el Gigante
-Un raton voleando,
Luis de la playa
-I will possess your heart,
Baskin Robbins
-Curious,
George
-percolating questions,
a carnal mind
-Lemmit vanSanscrit
-picklewicks
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Peacil Mints/z: The Man Behind the Socially Inept Mask of Creepiness
Loobis, why does Peacil Mintz have a z instead of an s now? It sounds like he's trying to be hardcore.
Peacil Mints/z is a humble unassuming man who has come across some sexual proclivities in the privacy of his own home, that he doesn't know how to deal with. This makes him insecure and a little manic. He doesn't wear socks.
Peacil never wears socks? Like outside the confines of his home? Is he socially maladjusted because of his hypomania? Is he old? What does he think of children? And what is his natural body odor?
no never. he has old ratty slippers that he wears in his home. yes. he is middle aged but not near retirement. he is very uncomfortable around children because their oblivious jubilation makes him so aware of his own overcooked self-deprication. carrots.
poor guy. sounds like he struggles a bit. what's his love life like?
he is the only person involved in his love life.
Peacil Mints/z is a humble unassuming man who has come across some sexual proclivities in the privacy of his own home, that he doesn't know how to deal with. This makes him insecure and a little manic. He doesn't wear socks.
Peacil never wears socks? Like outside the confines of his home? Is he socially maladjusted because of his hypomania? Is he old? What does he think of children? And what is his natural body odor?
no never. he has old ratty slippers that he wears in his home. yes. he is middle aged but not near retirement. he is very uncomfortable around children because their oblivious jubilation makes him so aware of his own overcooked self-deprication. carrots.
poor guy. sounds like he struggles a bit. what's his love life like?
he is the only person involved in his love life.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Birthday-O's
Leslie, trying to enforce an aritificial, individual award ceremony for your birthday o clock is pointless bureaucracy. i could understand if you silently acknowledged it in your head, but when you profess it, i feel like i'm obligated to buy you a birthday o present. actually, i have no idea how i should feel. should i congratulate you? should i laugh? should i cheer and clap my hands with delight? what does it even mean? what does it mean to have a birthday o clock?
that's what i'm saying. i don't know what it means when you say "it's my birthday o clock." so if i plan to let you know when it's my birthday o clock, meaning it has intentions, does it mean the same thing as it just being a coincidence? it's like a horoscope. should i believe that i will laugh today? of course! if i were to put myself in that situation. but what does that even mean? and why should i acknowledge it?
________________________________________
From: Manboy [mailto:Xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:42 PM
To: Leslie Hammerwhacker
Cc: Peacil Mints
Subject: RE: batman
You’re saying that our counter to “birthday o’clock” is “pointless bureaucracy?”
Manboy
________________________________________
From: Leslie Hammerwhacker [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:40 PM
To: Manboy
Cc: Peacil Mints
Subject: Re: batman
You're muddling it all up with pointless bureaucracy. What is this 'count' you're talking about? will it count for what?
On Wed, Jul 16, 2008 at 3:26 PM, Manboy wrote:
Peacil,
You make good points… I think it's more of a point of having your "birthday o'anything" aka what your numbers are, on the top of your head, and of course you will notice them.
It's like driving down the street when you're looking for the address 1004… you're looking for it, so when you see it, you recognize it.
Congrats on being the stinky kid… I'm sure it'll come with a newfound respect from your co-workers…. Or something like that…
Manboy
________________________________________
From: Peacil Mints [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:24 PM
To: Manboy; Leslie Hammerwhacker
Subject: RE: batman
so does this have to be by chance or should i try to integrate my birthday o's? like what if i set my alarm tomorrow to send you an email at 9:17 am? that's an intentional birthday-o. does that count? or what if i decide to blow you away with a double whammy. . . by sending out an email at 9:17 am on 9/17? is that a double birthday-o? and have you ever taken into consideration army time? chances are, you haven't, because i've heard you profess your birthday o clock at 22:04. And technically, that's not your birthday-o. how does one account for that?
Manboy, i meant i'm the stinky kid for once because this time, i know that people know. there's no way they couldn't know. would i hold the title of stinky kid if nobody besides myself knew that i stunk? i mean, i left my cube with a trail of gas that smelled way worse than poop. . . and this woman walked up and tried to come into my cube to give me a card. i just snatched it out of her hand and bolted down the aisle. everyone proceeded to fill the aisle thereafter. busted. i am now the stinky kid.
________________________________________
From: Manboy [mailto:Xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:17 PM
To: Leslie Hammerwhacker; Peacil Mints
Subject: RE: batman
Hahahahahasld;k fj2r98 jd;slajkg tqg5jrz;xlc k90283 tfwedsxl;j
Manboy
________________________________________
From: Leslie Hammerwhacker [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:15 PM
To: Peacil Mints
Cc: Manboy
Subject: Re: batman
Manboy, that's fate! God wants you to know your birthday-o's!!!
On Wed, Jul 16, 2008 at 3:13 PM, Leslie Hammerwhacker wrote:
that's unfortunate that you have such an awkward birthday. But through the wonders of the hexadecimal system we all have a birthday-o'clock. The Cabooze is on 917 Cedar Ave. That's a pretty cool birthday-o'address. In essence Peacil, don't be insecure about your birthday-o's, you've just got to be creative and be aware. Sometimes I wait for my birthday o'clock now because it makes me happy to see it, but most of the time, i'm just going about my day and 1004 jumps out of nowhere and delights me like a little ejaculation you didn't know was coming (literally! HA!).
On Wed, Jul 16, 2008 at 3:06 PM, Peacil Mints wrote:
how would 0917 play out in the real world, aside from time? Rarely is a baseball game ever in the 17's scorewise. That means my chances are slim to none that I will ever get to see my birthday o score. I don't live on 917 munchalunch lane either. So i don't have a birthday o address. I can't shape my area into 0917. Therefore I don't have a birthday o dong. I think this birthday o club is merely a scheme for you to form an extremely exclusive club so you can pretend you're better than the rest of the world.
Manboy, remember when I had those fart bags that would inflate and explode, leaving an eggy, sulfuric smell everywhere? i'm literally farting that stuff. it's hot and it spreads like wildfire. i just cropdusted the aisle here, and i heard some women joke about how stinky it smells in here. hahqa43yj24^@$^@!!!!! for once, i'm the stinky kid!!!
________________________________________
From: Leslie Hammerwhacker [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 12:04 PM
To: Manboy
Cc: Peacil Mints
Subject: Re: batman
I didn't say they are essential, but they are not trivial. They are a self declamation of being. And yes, they existed before digital clocks. But birthdays can be found in almost any series of numbers. if you're at a baseball game and the score is 10-4. Well that's my birthday-o'score. do you live on 1004 munchalunch lane? that's my birthday-o'address. did you twist your genitals to shape 1004? that's my birthday-o'dong. It's about claiming an identity and being comfortable enough to declare that wherever you are. and while that is not essential for being alive, it is important for living!
________________________________________
From: Peacil Mints [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 11:01 AM
To: Manboy; Leslie Hammerwhacker
Subject: RE: batman
that brings me to the question that has been burning in all of our minds Leslie. before digital clocks, did birthday o clocks even exist? with something of such short history, how can we say that birthday o clocks are an integral part of life? almost all things that are paramount to our lifestyles have extensive histories. and those that do not, like cell phones for example, are slightly more valuable than birthday o clocks. if a day went by where you didn't see your birthday o clock, would it honestly hamper your lifestyle?
______________________________________
From: Peacil Mints [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 10:46 AM
To: Leslie Hammerwhacker; Manboy
Subject: RE: batman
Leslie, i think, aside from this past weekend, i have never hung out with you where you have not mentioned your birthday o clock. i'm going to think of something trivial of the sort and say it everytime around you.
that's what i'm saying. i don't know what it means when you say "it's my birthday o clock." so if i plan to let you know when it's my birthday o clock, meaning it has intentions, does it mean the same thing as it just being a coincidence? it's like a horoscope. should i believe that i will laugh today? of course! if i were to put myself in that situation. but what does that even mean? and why should i acknowledge it?
________________________________________
From: Manboy [mailto:Xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:42 PM
To: Leslie Hammerwhacker
Cc: Peacil Mints
Subject: RE: batman
You’re saying that our counter to “birthday o’clock” is “pointless bureaucracy?”
Manboy
________________________________________
From: Leslie Hammerwhacker [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:40 PM
To: Manboy
Cc: Peacil Mints
Subject: Re: batman
You're muddling it all up with pointless bureaucracy. What is this 'count' you're talking about? will it count for what?
On Wed, Jul 16, 2008 at 3:26 PM, Manboy
Peacil,
You make good points… I think it's more of a point of having your "birthday o'anything" aka what your numbers are, on the top of your head, and of course you will notice them.
It's like driving down the street when you're looking for the address 1004… you're looking for it, so when you see it, you recognize it.
Congrats on being the stinky kid… I'm sure it'll come with a newfound respect from your co-workers…. Or something like that…
Manboy
________________________________________
From: Peacil Mints [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:24 PM
To: Manboy; Leslie Hammerwhacker
Subject: RE: batman
so does this have to be by chance or should i try to integrate my birthday o's? like what if i set my alarm tomorrow to send you an email at 9:17 am? that's an intentional birthday-o. does that count? or what if i decide to blow you away with a double whammy. . . by sending out an email at 9:17 am on 9/17? is that a double birthday-o? and have you ever taken into consideration army time? chances are, you haven't, because i've heard you profess your birthday o clock at 22:04. And technically, that's not your birthday-o. how does one account for that?
Manboy, i meant i'm the stinky kid for once because this time, i know that people know. there's no way they couldn't know. would i hold the title of stinky kid if nobody besides myself knew that i stunk? i mean, i left my cube with a trail of gas that smelled way worse than poop. . . and this woman walked up and tried to come into my cube to give me a card. i just snatched it out of her hand and bolted down the aisle. everyone proceeded to fill the aisle thereafter. busted. i am now the stinky kid.
________________________________________
From: Manboy [mailto:Xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:17 PM
To: Leslie Hammerwhacker; Peacil Mints
Subject: RE: batman
Hahahahahasld;k fj2r98 jd;slajkg tqg5jrz;xlc k90283 tfwedsxl;j
Manboy
________________________________________
From: Leslie Hammerwhacker [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:15 PM
To: Peacil Mints
Cc: Manboy
Subject: Re: batman
Manboy, that's fate! God wants you to know your birthday-o's!!!
On Wed, Jul 16, 2008 at 3:13 PM, Leslie Hammerwhacker
that's unfortunate that you have such an awkward birthday. But through the wonders of the hexadecimal system we all have a birthday-o'clock. The Cabooze is on 917 Cedar Ave. That's a pretty cool birthday-o'address. In essence Peacil, don't be insecure about your birthday-o's, you've just got to be creative and be aware. Sometimes I wait for my birthday o'clock now because it makes me happy to see it, but most of the time, i'm just going about my day and 1004 jumps out of nowhere and delights me like a little ejaculation you didn't know was coming (literally! HA!).
On Wed, Jul 16, 2008 at 3:06 PM, Peacil Mints
how would 0917 play out in the real world, aside from time? Rarely is a baseball game ever in the 17's scorewise. That means my chances are slim to none that I will ever get to see my birthday o score. I don't live on 917 munchalunch lane either. So i don't have a birthday o address. I can't shape my area into 0917. Therefore I don't have a birthday o dong. I think this birthday o club is merely a scheme for you to form an extremely exclusive club so you can pretend you're better than the rest of the world.
Manboy, remember when I had those fart bags that would inflate and explode, leaving an eggy, sulfuric smell everywhere? i'm literally farting that stuff. it's hot and it spreads like wildfire. i just cropdusted the aisle here, and i heard some women joke about how stinky it smells in here. hahqa43yj24^@$^@!!!!! for once, i'm the stinky kid!!!
________________________________________
From: Leslie Hammerwhacker [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 12:04 PM
To: Manboy
Cc: Peacil Mints
Subject: Re: batman
I didn't say they are essential, but they are not trivial. They are a self declamation of being. And yes, they existed before digital clocks. But birthdays can be found in almost any series of numbers. if you're at a baseball game and the score is 10-4. Well that's my birthday-o'score. do you live on 1004 munchalunch lane? that's my birthday-o'address. did you twist your genitals to shape 1004? that's my birthday-o'dong. It's about claiming an identity and being comfortable enough to declare that wherever you are. and while that is not essential for being alive, it is important for living!
________________________________________
From: Peacil Mints [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 11:01 AM
To: Manboy; Leslie Hammerwhacker
Subject: RE: batman
that brings me to the question that has been burning in all of our minds Leslie. before digital clocks, did birthday o clocks even exist? with something of such short history, how can we say that birthday o clocks are an integral part of life? almost all things that are paramount to our lifestyles have extensive histories. and those that do not, like cell phones for example, are slightly more valuable than birthday o clocks. if a day went by where you didn't see your birthday o clock, would it honestly hamper your lifestyle?
______________________________________
From: Peacil Mints [mailto:xxx]
Sent: Wednesday, July 16, 2008 10:46 AM
To: Leslie Hammerwhacker; Manboy
Subject: RE: batman
Leslie, i think, aside from this past weekend, i have never hung out with you where you have not mentioned your birthday o clock. i'm going to think of something trivial of the sort and say it everytime around you.
Friday, July 11, 2008
A Test of Your Pleabological Righteousness
Grandpa Pleab says:
who likes chicken beaks?
-peeble deaks
Grandpa Pleab says:
who likes fried onions?
- punyons and funyons eating at runyons
Grandpa Pleab says:
why do they fry them?
-weed stem
Grandpa Pleab says:
what's that blue thing in your water?
-Harry Potter looking hotter
Grandpa Pleab says:
what's under your pillow?
-willow. that silly dwarf
Grandpa Pleab says:
who likes candy?
-randy pandy, all sandy boning mandy
Grandpa Pleab says:
why is there Pluto?
-pooh-doe
Coworker says:
why are you so weird
-chicken beard
Grandpa Pleab says:
Who likes physicals?
-mystical twisticals
Grandpa Pleab says:
Why do doctors operate?
-masterbate
who likes chicken beaks?
-peeble deaks
Grandpa Pleab says:
who likes fried onions?
- punyons and funyons eating at runyons
Grandpa Pleab says:
why do they fry them?
-weed stem
Grandpa Pleab says:
what's that blue thing in your water?
-Harry Potter looking hotter
Grandpa Pleab says:
what's under your pillow?
-willow. that silly dwarf
Grandpa Pleab says:
who likes candy?
-randy pandy, all sandy boning mandy
Grandpa Pleab says:
why is there Pluto?
-pooh-doe
Coworker says:
why are you so weird
-chicken beard
Grandpa Pleab says:
Who likes physicals?
-mystical twisticals
Grandpa Pleab says:
Why do doctors operate?
-masterbate
Hypothesis on the Origins of Chicken Mots: An Analytical Perspective of the Corollaries of Space Bots
Chicken Mots: I picture these half-mutilated soggy Nuggets from McDonald's with the skin off, of course. And they'd be coated in Motts Applesauce in those little lunch pack containers? They'd all have little smiles and speak with chipmunk voices, but if you tread within their vicinity, they wouldn't hesitate to bite the bajeezus out of you.
Somehow, it makes sense that they exist within outer space, along with Space Bots. I picture Space Bots as being these little industrial robots that explore the vast regions of our mighty universe. Chicken Mots would be their little sidekicks, but would somehow dually serve as their antagonist. . .Kind of like a Tom and Jerry thing. Eventually the Space Bots would get so annoyed from having to sift through the plethara of chirping, gravitionless Chicken Mots, they'd just eat 'em as little snacks. Little packets of protein, carbohydrates, and animal gonads.
Somewhere, somehow, regardless of their opposing personalities, the Chicken Mots and Space Bots are attempting to accomplish that goal; what that goal is, however, we cannot say for sure, as we are merely humans. We cannot fully comprehend the true beastial nature of Chicken Mots and Space Bots. They are in a league of their own. . .kind of like those chicks who played baseball during the war and Tom Hanks was their coach?
The point is, we may think that the Chicken Mots and Space Bots are on a mission to travel to the vast ends of the universe, but we can only perceive this from our earthly location. While we become so fixated upon this seemingly fascinated observation, we fail to realize the obvious:
Perhaps there are Chicken Mots in the cardboard container on our lap. Perhaps we just ate some Chicken Mots at a company picnic. Perhaps the Chicken Mots have already be absorbed by the tissues of our bodies, and now we are, in fact, representatives of Chicken Mots ourselves. Perhaps one must ingest the nourishing qualities of Chicken Mots for him to realize that he has Chicken Mots qualities.
You, Deeny, are a Chicken Mot.
AK, you, my friend, are also a Chicken Mot.
But one cannot ignore the existence of Space Bots as well. Whatever happened to them? Well, let me tell you this: Perhaps the car you got into this morning is a remnant of that Space Bot. You would never know.
And let's say you had some Chicken Mots in your car. What would this make you? A Chicken Mot with a Space Bot.
Therefore, you must be on a universal journey yourself. Whatever that journey may be, whether it be to find the ends of the universe, or simply to enjoy a full half hour of Family Matters, you are on a journey. And that makes you a Chicken Mot with a Space Bot.
QED.
As in Quod Erat Demonstrandum
Somehow, it makes sense that they exist within outer space, along with Space Bots. I picture Space Bots as being these little industrial robots that explore the vast regions of our mighty universe. Chicken Mots would be their little sidekicks, but would somehow dually serve as their antagonist. . .Kind of like a Tom and Jerry thing. Eventually the Space Bots would get so annoyed from having to sift through the plethara of chirping, gravitionless Chicken Mots, they'd just eat 'em as little snacks. Little packets of protein, carbohydrates, and animal gonads.
Somewhere, somehow, regardless of their opposing personalities, the Chicken Mots and Space Bots are attempting to accomplish that goal; what that goal is, however, we cannot say for sure, as we are merely humans. We cannot fully comprehend the true beastial nature of Chicken Mots and Space Bots. They are in a league of their own. . .kind of like those chicks who played baseball during the war and Tom Hanks was their coach?
The point is, we may think that the Chicken Mots and Space Bots are on a mission to travel to the vast ends of the universe, but we can only perceive this from our earthly location. While we become so fixated upon this seemingly fascinated observation, we fail to realize the obvious:
Perhaps there are Chicken Mots in the cardboard container on our lap. Perhaps we just ate some Chicken Mots at a company picnic. Perhaps the Chicken Mots have already be absorbed by the tissues of our bodies, and now we are, in fact, representatives of Chicken Mots ourselves. Perhaps one must ingest the nourishing qualities of Chicken Mots for him to realize that he has Chicken Mots qualities.
You, Deeny, are a Chicken Mot.
AK, you, my friend, are also a Chicken Mot.
But one cannot ignore the existence of Space Bots as well. Whatever happened to them? Well, let me tell you this: Perhaps the car you got into this morning is a remnant of that Space Bot. You would never know.
And let's say you had some Chicken Mots in your car. What would this make you? A Chicken Mot with a Space Bot.
Therefore, you must be on a universal journey yourself. Whatever that journey may be, whether it be to find the ends of the universe, or simply to enjoy a full half hour of Family Matters, you are on a journey. And that makes you a Chicken Mot with a Space Bot.
QED.
As in Quod Erat Demonstrandum
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