Busta Rhymes appears in the movie "Narc" starring Ray Liotta and Jason Patrick, who, by the
way, if I was a woman, which I'm not, I would lay the the hell out of.
Do you remember asking questions like that to your friends before going to sleep? You don't? Yeah? Well, neither do I smarmy, why don't you go butter some bread.
I remember a sleep-over party I have when I was 12 or something. I actually can't remember my exact age, which conjures images of me five years later, only I'm Nell, that half-animal-half mentally handicapped thing as played by Jodie Foster in the feature film "Nell." Anyways, we get rowdy as shit, the 13 or 14 of us, and we play that sweet game "the blob" where one person dons a sleeping bag, therefore transforming into "The Blob." If the Blob grabs you and tackles you, you also became a blob and don your own sleeping bag. This goes on until only two friends remain, trying to hide and weave between 10 or 11 Blobs. The game is usually quick, unless the Blob is too slow, which Steve Hart is wearing a sleeping bag.
He simply cannot catch anyone, and people push him over and get in cheap shots while they can. This enrages young Steve, and he launches himself at his attackers. His aim is slightly off, due to his absolute blindness from said sleeping bag, and he dives headfirst into a thick metal pipe in our basement. An amazing sound rang out, and everyone became still, staring intently at the motionless body. The silence is punctured suddenly, as Casey Becker reaches over and punches Steve in the balls. Pandemonium ensues, blobs are created, balls are pummeled.
That life is not too far away. My urethra hurts (but only when I think of you).
way, if I was a woman, which I'm not, I would lay the the hell out of.
Do you remember asking questions like that to your friends before going to sleep? You don't? Yeah? Well, neither do I smarmy, why don't you go butter some bread.
I remember a sleep-over party I have when I was 12 or something. I actually can't remember my exact age, which conjures images of me five years later, only I'm Nell, that half-animal-half mentally handicapped thing as played by Jodie Foster in the feature film "Nell." Anyways, we get rowdy as shit, the 13 or 14 of us, and we play that sweet game "the blob" where one person dons a sleeping bag, therefore transforming into "The Blob." If the Blob grabs you and tackles you, you also became a blob and don your own sleeping bag. This goes on until only two friends remain, trying to hide and weave between 10 or 11 Blobs. The game is usually quick, unless the Blob is too slow, which Steve Hart is wearing a sleeping bag.
He simply cannot catch anyone, and people push him over and get in cheap shots while they can. This enrages young Steve, and he launches himself at his attackers. His aim is slightly off, due to his absolute blindness from said sleeping bag, and he dives headfirst into a thick metal pipe in our basement. An amazing sound rang out, and everyone became still, staring intently at the motionless body. The silence is punctured suddenly, as Casey Becker reaches over and punches Steve in the balls. Pandemonium ensues, blobs are created, balls are pummeled.
That life is not too far away. My urethra hurts (but only when I think of you).
posted by Doug at 5:06 AM
2 Comments:
I marvel at Meat Wallet and its development. It's fast becoming the kind of internet publication I might want to read on the loo every morning (or early afternoon, as it goes) if I didn't have a desktop.
I'm awfully sorry about Twinsburg or whatever. As natural as natural clones may be, they're still fucking scary and really shouldn't be *celebrated* in any way.
Did you take a gander at the gentleman who also left a post on my latest entry? Did you create a fake blog? If you didn't, I'm going to have to weep at the fact that such a man exists. "Horse of Course?!?!?!"
Hotlenabanginlanta awaits my Sept. 24th arrival, but they are most certainly not ready. Not ready for the hours of weeping and smallpox lesions and solo beer tosses. Nope!
A few things:
I'd like a fresh post, please!
Also, it might interesting to note that young girls also played "the blob game." I had a special blanket that was white and, when hudled in the appropriate position, would JUST cover me with a little bit extra to drag around. We didn't call it "the blob game" though, we called it "the clot." This is most likely because my best friend at the time, Danielle Riguera, suffered from horrendous nose bleeds and we'd often have to stop what we were doing so that her nose could "clot up" and we could keep pretending we were squirrels or whatever. Later on, we even created "The Clot: The Musical" where one of us would make up stupid lyrics until The Clot would attack and envelope the star.
Additionally, yake it to the yimit....
...yone yore yime.
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