Strange, the things we think 'pon. Here I was jes' wonderin' why it was that I had not yet attained my rightful status as King of the Universe. I have taken all of the proper steps:
Yet, despite my imminent qualifications, I flounder endlessly, bein' swallowed up by the massive population of the planet until, it seems, my voice cannot be heard any longer. I wallow into the deep murkiness within my head in a feeble attempt to finally find the key to indicate the necessary step for me to ascend to my proper level in life. I slave endlessly to create somethin' so humorous and bizarre that the popular furor surroundin' the novel phenomenon will cause a humongous virtual entourage to encircle me, carry me upon their shoulders, and to applaud my ever' future effort in briefin' the world 'bout the current conditions existin' on the inside of my head. I willingly sacrifice my mundane existence in the real world so as to psychically immerse myself deeply within my consciousness and subconscious soul in the creativity process I find continually necessary to produce high quality content with the intention of pleasin' ever'one in the world. I strive only to fulfill my vision of makin' sweet sensual love to Renee Zellweger, Ashley Judd, Cameron Diaz and Ashley Scott, all together, or one at a time. Oh, wait . . . that is my big death scene, and it doesn't come 'round at this point in the story. I 'spect when it does, the names of the other participants will likely have changed.
Now, havin' wearily worked your way through the foregoin' preposterous prose, would it be fair of me to ask ya a favor? Could ya possibly leave word in some way whether ya enjoyed it or not? It'd be 'preciated. I got a whole book of jes' this sort of crap, though not done continuously in dialect (which I know will be appreciated by some of ya'll), which should be comin' out purty soon now, and gettin' some idea whether people even like my creative prose presentation would assist me at this point in time.
P.S. If some of ya'll want to send a few of your own visitors over this way, such would definitely be very assistful, as well.
Accordin' to this little thingie I found readin' that tittie tweaker, Cheese Mistress, well you can see for yourself:
It is quite possibly a purty accurate estimate of my stamina level. I'll likely only stay awake for the first fifteen minutes, however. Posted by Tiger at November 20, 2004 11:39 AM | TrackBack
Does this mean you have given up on your local politics? And that I can go back to linking you openly on the front page (when, of course, you make a post I approve of...)? As opposed to stealthily advising various personages of your new address.
P.S. That quiz, and your comment thereon, makes you and I quite compatible. Do it in your sleep, baby...
Posted by: Kathy K at November 20, 2004 08:12 PMI can be bribed with a 2005 Mustang. I can be bought with a 1968 Shelby Cobra in mint condition - like Pattie *grin*
Posted by: Cowtown Pattie at November 21, 2004 10:03 PMHmmmm. My birthday is also in April - almost two weeks before yours.
Posted by: Ozguru at November 22, 2004 02:54 AM