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Alch and his Amazing Flying Machine
fuckinalch
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I guess Jon and Blaid won.

At least until November. THEN WE'LL SEE

This morning my daughter told me mommy doesn't like when I say bad words on the Internet.

Well, shit.

As a father of two, I often struggle for shortcuts.

Like, does it count as a bunny if it's just a teddy bear with longer ears?

Can melted ice cream feasibly pass for yogurt?

Why does my wife not believe me when I insist that we need to keep a surplus of stamps on hand?

And what's the time stamp on the boob scene in Doom Generation?

That last one doesn't really have anything to do with parenting. It'd just be a lot easier to fast forward to if I knew.

Current Mood: Total
Current Music: Umbrellas

Boy babies do not poop as much as girl babies.

But their poop is much larger, and more powerful in texture and presence.

Current Music: More Poop

"Daddy," she inquired, "why does gammy smell like the dentist?"

"Grandma went to the dentist before she got here," I answered. "She had to have a checkup because last week she had her teeth drilled."

She giggled.

"Yeah," she answered, "I bet the dentist drilled gammy hard."

Little miss Nickling...
We were in familial company at the time. I could not at that moment express just how proud I was of you. It would have added more awkwardness to an already awkward situation... Awkwardness to which you were enviably naive. I can only hope you understand why I could not display that pride. Moreover, I can only hope you understand, and will always understand, that you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. You are wonderful, amazing, sagely, talented, and most importantly, you are mine. I love you, and I will love you forever. Moments like these only serve to remind me why... And to reassure me that you are, indeed, mine. Never change. Never, ever change.

Current Mood: A Father

No, I don't have spambots. It was just a very well-written article.

Current Mood: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Yesterday evening, a Mormon missionary appeared on my porch while I was holding my daughter. He handed me a Book of Mormon. I took it and tried to rush him away with "yes yes thank you", as one does, but he was very persistent about staying and preaching.

That is, until my daughter took the book from me and laid a deuce upon it.

No, really. She took the book from me, then shoved it down the back of her diaper, then said "UH OH DADDY". Somewhere between then and the moments that followed, there came to be poop on that Book of Mormon.

And then as a follow-up, when the missionary reached for her to retrieve the book for Joseph Smith knows what reason, she bit him.

I'm never potty-training this girl.

Who said that?

Was it you, LiveJournal audience?

What, you think you're too good for me now?

Well, FUCK YOU, humble reader.

You think you're SO cool.

Sitting there.

In front of a computer.

Reading words.

On a screen.

Well guess what?

You're not so cool.

At ALL.

Here's a picture of a penis.

Print it out.

Then suck on it.

Ready?

Here it is.

Fire up the printer.

Get those ink jets warmed up.

We're gonna combine some cyan, magenta, yellow, and black up in this bitch.

I had to ask my friend for some printer terminology to use in this one.

But he didn't answer so I got on Wikipedia instead.

Alright.

Ready?

Here comes a dick.

And you are going to put it in your mouth.

For your insolence.

Oh.

Oh god.

I didn't have any pictures of penises handy.

So I got on Google Image Search.

There's just...

Some really horrible penises on there.

I couldn't bear to hotlink any of them.

Alright.

Suck on this guy instead.

I found him on page four of the results.

Somehow.

Go ahead and look for yourself.

Been working on the nursery this afternoon. Or at least half of it. Needs more toddler crap. The infant crap can go on the other side.

It's a really fucking arid day, though. I mean, they all are here, but today, phoofph.

And these paint fumes, man. My whole house is like a Jamaican barbeque.

Sure hope this doesn't have any adverse effects on my brainminds.

If I were a caveman, I would NOT want to be the one in charge of skinning the raptors.

Could you even imagine how hard that would be?

Yesterday I sold three books ranging from $6 to $18, eighteen iPads at $500 apiece, and one Magic: The Gathering card priced at $2,900.

And yet "book" is still in the name of my store?

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You didn't get that one? It's a double entendre. The joke is that that's what the British call a subway, and also you're stupid!

My daughter can sing and poop at the same time.

Can yours?

I'd go gay for a man named Barnabus in an instant. I decided this when I realized the phrase "Fuck me, Barnabus" is probably the most well-flowing sentence ever. It's just so smooth and easy to say.

I've always believed coitus should include a bit of iambic pentameter.

Did you know that if you mix ricearoni and mashed potatoes, you're fucking stupid?

My wife has been playing this game Rift lately. Maybe you have heard of it?

Anyway, she tells me you can beat things up in it.

Sounds cool!

Today I was making the rounds around the bookstore, and stopped by the coffeeshop. There was a small boy there, pressing his flabbergasted face against the glass of a pastry display.

"Those muffins are huge!" he said. I grinned and knelt down next to the child.

"Little boy," I inquired, "Do you know what else is huge?"

We were a bit understaffed at work today, at the bookstore I own and you don't because you aren't as cool as me. As a result, I was shirking my managerial duties to work a register for a couple hours today. And as it turns out, I get a colorful cadre of customers.

For example, today this shy, slightly awkward college freshman girl approached the register today, to purchase none other than the infamously long War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy. A classic hardcover edition, no less, which weighs a good eight to ten pounds; the girl wasn't exactly struggling to carry it, but she certainly seemed like she hadn't expected it to be as heavy as it was.

She placed it in front of the register and gave a slight sigh of relief to not carry it anymore. I smiled politely as I began to ring it up. "War and Peace, eh?" I said. "Napoleon buff, or are you reading it for a class?"

"Bit of both," she responded, smiling back sweetly. "I knew the book was famous for being big, but I wasn't expecting it to be so literally... huge."

I laughed. "Yeah, it is," I said as I bagged the book. I then looked up and met her glasses-adorned green eyes. "You know what else is huge?"

"What?" she asked, blinking. I grinned and leaned closer to her face.



"MY DIIIIIIIIIIIIICK", I yelled, silencing the entire store.

"MY DIIIIIIIIIIIIICK", I bellowed, as I leapt onto the counter, tearing off my pants to begin masturbating furiously.

"MY DIIIIIIIIIIIIICK", I shouted, tackling the girl to the ground and wrestling to keep her still.

"MY DIIIIIIIIIIIIICK", I screamed, lifting her plaid skirt to insert myself into herself; she screamed in what could only be joy, and began pounding and clawing at me; I was surprised to discover she was a lot kinkier than her shy demeanor led on.

"MY DIIIIIIIIIIIIICK", I hollered, as bystanders began cheering us on in a way that sounded oddly like screams of horror; a college custom of which I'm not aware, no doubt.

"MY DIIIIIIIIIIIIICK", I shrieked, as I fired my steaming jizzbomb straight onto her face, all over her glasses.

"MY DIIIIIIIIIIIIICK", I howled after her, as she struggled to her feet and ran out of the store, surely to sing the praises of the blessing she received this day.

"MY DIIIIIIIIIIIIICK", I roared at the crowd, who scattered and ran away, clearly unable to handle enjoying my splendor even a second longer.



Sadly, in the girl's haste she forgot the copy of War and Peace she'd bought. But I got to write down her credit card information when she paid; I'll be able to find her easily. And return her book. I'll make sure of that. I know where she lives, I know where she goes to school, and I know who her family is. I will return her book... Probably when she least expects it.

I'm a samaritan like that.

I was wandering the woods the other night, trekking toward the hole where I stash nubile bodies, when I came across an arrowhead, and a rather large one at that.

I cleaned it up real good and hung it up outside the door to the book store I own.

That week, I got 34 hippie customers. In the entirety of the time I've owned the store, that is 35 more hippies than I've ever gotten. They complimented the "natural-yet-new-age vibe" the place had, and they spent more money than anyone before them ever has in a single visit.

Arrowheads are awesome.

Too bad it was stolen this morning.







I will find you and rape your entire mouth.

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