Haaaay Maker…

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Days. Some people are not fans of certain ones. Monday gets a bad doing. Harsh enough. Basically you’ve cut that day loose. You and that day are now kind of goosed. Never going to get on. I’m actually a fan of Mondays. Recent ones anyways. Some spent on yachts. Others spent on jets. How bad. Thank you. Giddy up. Will do. So usually I am a fan. However, this week’s Monday, as in good old yesterday, maybe not so much. Maybe this week’s Monday woke up,  put on its wife beater vest, had a smoke, drank a case of Stella Artois and then tried to beat me down with as many dumb drunk punches as it possibly could. Oh Monday… Continue Reading »

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Monkey Free Crap Fun!

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Dancers. Islands. Yachts. Parts. Practice. Bathrooms. Some things are better private. Ehh… Numbers. Some things are not. One new addition to the better pile… Jets. Finally I can now confidently say: Private jets are the dancers of the air. Finally, says you. I know, says I. Giddy up! Assumption off. Jet on. Absolutely funking mighty. Planned on doing a blogaruu from up in the air. Unfortunately. Tad busy. Boozing. Dancing. On a plush private jet. On my way to Vegas. All on a Monday morning?!! Nay too shabby. Bloody Mary all the way! Literally. Go on the ape. Did manage to get a bit of mental bookaruu scribbling in, at least. Le sequel could start a bit like this… I’m on a jet. Private kind. En route to Vegas. Disneyland. Doused in acid. The land of whures. Heat. More whures. Monkeys. Mind wobbles. Crap fun. And depression. Wuu! Can’t wait. Vegas on… Continue Reading »