:: Out of Spite, Out of Mind ::

:: Friday, July 19, 2002 ::

It was as if the Gods of ballroom dance themselves had attached strings to their limbs, and then decided to pit the partners against each other in a bizarre cock fight. Cruel puppet masters that would act out their wildest, sickest fantasies vicariously through these marrionettes. The panel of judges were beyond appalled, a slew of new adjectives and nouns were coined that evening to describe what they witnessed: "FUBAR (fuckedupbeyondallrepair)" said Tinkles the clown. "Shittbutter!" screamed Pelca, his lover. "How do you say in Englais...eh Stewed-pea Motorfucker?" questioned a confused Jean-Ferdinantonio-DuranDuran-Wong-Torres-VanMandela (aka "Lou").
It was all a blur- but slowly things were spinning into focus...as he clutched his groin he remembered the first disaster... (there were 4) 1) He bit his lip when he got nervous, and this time he really chomped at the bit- blood spewed everywhere...spraying him and his partner as they attempted a dip. 2)His partner, Minka was a hemophobic and her nervous reaction was to shit violently at the sight of blood. Feces everywhere (the thong underwear she was wearing didn't help either). 3) A man in the crowd, (Chucky) was a Fecalphobic. The sight of shit made him bleed from the nose and foam at the mouth profusely. Manny, the male dancer tried to keep it together..."Fox Trot" he kept telling Minka, but her only reply was a fart and seemingly endless stream of logs upon seeing Chuck the Fecalphobic. 4) Manny remembered the rabid dog that bit him as a child- the foam from Chuck's mouth made him remember. That day the dog had eaten his cat "Mr. Neuticals"...Poor Mr.N- he'd be avenged! He was losing blood fast, and the world was careening around in a psychotic merry-go-round. Desperately, he remembered that he had a pistol in his sock holster and proceeded to fire at the rabid dog...

:: Ol Man Factory 7/19/2002 02:54:00 PM [+] ::
...

I was chatting with my friend SofBezak of the Lifetime (women's network) and mentioned that I have nothing to blog about, so she said "make some shit up". So I will.

Someone would pay! They had lost the dance contest, all the practicing, polishing and primping gone to hell! A streak of tears, sweat and mascara ran down her face like molten ice cream running down a cone as she kicked her dance partner squarely in the balls. A thousand muted screams flooded his head as the pain started to rise, creeping slowly up his groin like molasses...then eventually snowballed into a waterfall of debilitating pain. Gasping for air, he felt like he was drowning in the Sea of Pain... wishing that he could shrink into nothingness to escape being dashed against the rocks by the angry waves. She was livid all right, as he fell to the ground he caught a glimpse of her tiarra and rings around her eyes and imagined a deranged racoon on angel dust. He desperately clawed at her dress as the routine flashed before him...

:: Ol Man Factory 7/19/2002 12:37:00 AM [+] ::
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