Monday, December 28, 2009

internal combustion device

Over the river and through the woods, to Jimmy Jamison's house we go. Tantrums are the pinnacle of my obsoleteness. What does the Yellow River Game Ranch have to do with my gloves? I think it pertains to the handyman repairing the overhead console. Taper down to the gangrene removal machine, says my pancreas. Fourty snake babies are protruding from the cavern at the back of the overture. I believe the Sega tapes are being used as frisbees in the cosmic game of smoothie making. Do you underestimate the bankrolling of matador neutering?

Monday, October 26, 2009

don't turn the clam

Down the hatch. So says the grapefruit, as he barrels up the interstate on his moped. Underlining the hamburger seems like an illustrious grope at reality. Float by yourself out of the grotto, but not as slowly as horse hair soup. Idlely taking the heat out of namecalling is a gigantic sneak. Oh for the sake of petulence goes the rastafarian moose. Don't grab the lavatory taco.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

onto the bleating parsnips

My goodness, what a purty step-grandfather clock. I mean, it couldn't be that the snarling owl babies have returned from their sojourn into gamestop. No of course not. More likely that hardened egg crates have been infused into the world of tarts and cookies. Although mostly unfurled, the pandemonium surrounding the Armenian marching band has been blown out of prepositions. All the gravy won't be accused of robbing a banded goat. Flapping out of the hardwood forest, we should yelp with discouragement at the frozen rolling pin. Enter the jalopy eating cakes.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Squatting on a protracted needle

Gloating paper clips are not for the squeamish. I cannot stress the importance of baby lotion bottles enough, as they pertain to the plotting of a course to Zimbabwe. In response to my crepe panning, you must entertain. Does this make enough to flake a tootsie roll pop? The world may never know. Overcooked though it may be, I must prescribe a can of bloated flea dookie. Do not seek the treasure, says the gandering filler neck.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Be afraid you egotistical flange.

A few things come to mind. Being egotistical is not an appropriate quality. For example, look at the flange in the illustration above. When having a big ego the flange became overloaded and somewhat "faulty" if you will. I wonder when big milt will conduct some new scientific experiment in which he makes alavert grow from a pleading granulated sugar frothating machine.

Wheat and catapults

Thursday, March 5, 2009



There were 12,000,063 snarling owl babies seen invading airspace over Uzbekistan early next week, in clear violation of the Inability Pact of 473 B.C., according to German authorities. What this means in relation to the flaking of egg shells has yet to be determined. Farming equipment was instrumental to the compartmentalization of gourds. The engorgement will proceed to become a malapropism of sorts.

In other news, the narcissistic embolism cannot be undermined by bloviated Peruvian sloth toenails. There will be no implications of garishness to the harem procession. Any assistance can be directed to the National Rifle Association's office of foreign affairs.

This has been a news flash. Now back to your regularly scheduled fish feeding.

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

gloated loins

Dough rollers and plaque inscriptions are similar to my ankle. Or pastry oven. Here is the conversation between the digits.

roller: Hey you, I have a pinecone shaped interphalangeal joint.

oven: Perhaps you should have a dermatologist pee on your nose hairs.

roller: I have acted rashly.

ankle: Goat cheese is said to have phlebotomic value.

inscriptions: No, you feline intentional foul.

oven: Blasted fools and their wee little handlebars.

roller: You should've consulted Mr. Galapagos for the password to the garden gnomes.

And so goes the dialogue betwixt all the genomes and particles.
Please refrain from describing this interaction to any and all antelopes.

Toke Q

Ordinary plucking devices are like a time machine. Oh, for the sake of placation devices, says the torpid jackalope. Can you hear all the ringers from Doug Flutie's cell phone? They are telling me to pretend I am Hugh Jackman. You know, the guy that has big chops in that movie about the mutant superheros. What's the name of it? Oh yeah, Clerks. Or was that the movie about the snakes on an airplane? Maybe the one with Denzel Washington's nephew's dog. Or perhaps I am meandering around the 9mm blanks.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Gobs of fortuitudes

I can't pretend to fragment my ornate games anymore. Frankincense is not to be taken lightly with gravy boat replacement therapy. Man, all this talk of gravy makes me peckish. Could you interrogate the protractor angles for a pence or fifteen?

Monday, January 26, 2009

/// stanks ///


Wednesday, January 14, 2009


Wativulus Sentera here to report about antibodies. Why are they called antibodies? If that were the case then would they not be AGAINST our bodies since they are anti? Well what would happen if they were considered robobiotics instead of antibiotics. We would have to be robots to ingest such a group conglomerate species. If we were robots we would need no kind of biotics because we could be doctors like such...
What about prebiotic like cheese crackers.

Keeping up with the scientific culture including antibodily fluids takes a lot of research. I hope these statistics have served you well.

From the lab of Reticulated Munichs

Thursday, January 8, 2009

The Clones of Waynesboro

I was able to attempt the premeditated granulated smooches which is derived from the Russian name Schlotzkeys deli. Groping consists of mutual Alan Mulally autographs. I have not figured out why tree pruning cant be distinguished as the "gentle giant" of garrisonated caryatidic. The carillon will be set to operate last Moonday. Much to my dismay, the altered mound of guano has been identified as a malnourished clove. Here is an insert of the outcome of my journey to see the Waynesboro clone.