Sunday, January 13, 2008
Good Lord
So I decided if I'm going to blog, it may as well be interesting and uncensored. Ten minutes ago I got hit with a wave of the stealth shits. You think a fart will roll through gently like wind in a meadow on an early spring morning and then realise with micro-seconds to go that, like golf , sometimes the follow through is all. Now sitting writing letting immodium work its magic. Like advil, immodium does what it says on the tin. Most drugs are nearly helpful and possibly deadly. You can use our diet pill, but beware anal seepage?!! Give me another pie and chuck that crap in the bin (garbage). Can a drug dance to its own tune? If it can, immodium and advil are old hippies dancing around the lilac tree, whilst the diet pills stand embarrassed, pop tunes clanking, leaking into the canal.
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At approximately 2.27 am January the fourteenth, our home and suburb were hit by the unmistakable vibrations, sound and odor of a slow moving immodium led fart coming from a northerly direction. It headed southbound along Lockbourne road, sending traffic skittling into bar carparks, and killing crackhead pedestrians in it's wake.
"Dang" said our one toothed neighbour in his best hillbilly-esqe empathically altered tone. "That was a British fart".
The lively discussion that followed reminded fellow Americans that British arse had been kicked years ago, but perhaps now was not a good time to kick again.
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