Friday, April 17, 2009
Perhaps he should just make like its Randy Savage and unleashed a patented Atomic Leg Drop instead.
Hulk Hogan's twitter entry for June 3, 2009:
12:30 pm Well, I'm just out on the road with my “peeps” today. I like to call them my peeps. Normally, this would be a limo driver, a fatty ride, my personal assistant, maybe some arm candy on each side, for the long ride home – if you know what I mean, huh, huh? But my ex-wife took the limo and the limo driver and ran over both of my pieces of arm candy. And, my personal assistant quit after she claimed that I tried to put GBH in her drink. WTF? I don't even know how to SPELL THAT! So, now I'm cruisin' with my Filipino boy, Agapito. Yep. He's my cabby. And Trevor here, he's a guy that wanted to split the cab with me. We're going to cruise for some chicks and take this town HULKY STYLE!!!
2:30 Just got though having lunch at the Crazy Burrito, the finest, cheapest Mexican restraunt on this side of town. I got the bean enchillada with pickle and prune sauce and a side of hard boiled eggs. This is going to be a really bad night for Brooke and her sexy friends. Really bad night. Sometimes, when I'm drunk, I like to walk in a room and fart and then walk out and watch people walk into the room after me. It gives me a kick to look at people's faces while they're choking and gagging on my gas. I've farted in shopping malls, supermarkets, catholic churches during confessional, and even a daycare or two. Best of all, if anyone tries to escape before I've had my fill, I put 'em in a headlock and make 'em smell my pits until the lights turn out.
My wife still has my credit cards, so I couldn't exactly pay for the meal. I offered to hit someone or cut my arm and let it bleed on the table to pay for lunch. The owner shook his head and said it was on the house. Man, he didn't know what he's missing. Anything that my blood hits sells on Ebay next day for like a thousand bucks.
2:50 Stopped to get some orange juice. Man, I've just been going crazy for OJ lately. Breakfast, lunch, dinner – all I think about is OJ, OJ, OJ. Everything about it – the taste, the ruby red color, the smell of fear in the air – just make me want it more and more. Those stupid oranges. I could just RIP into them with a KNIFE and TEAR out the juicy inner flesh and FEAST on the inner GORE that runs out! That tangerine wants to run around with my big mandarin, I'LL SHOW HIM WHEN I RIP HIS SKIN OFF AND SUCK OUT HIS JUICY BLOOD!!! OJ RULES.
Yeah, so, um, oranges are really cool . . and stuff.
3:30 Stopped by the lingerie store to pick out a new bathing suit for Brooke. 27 tries and I still haven't found the perfect one yet. I'll have to have her model this one tonight to see if I like it or not. I bought her some sunblock and tanning lotion. You can really never be too careful these days, what with skin cancer and all. Dads, make sure that your daughters put sunblock on every exposed inch of skin when they're out in the sun. DON'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER. If they won't put it on, hold them down and put it on for them, no matter how long it takes and no matter where you have to rub. That's what real parents do.
4:30 I think he's finally passed out. This is Trevor. I've actually been the one writing the whole time here. He's already made me miss my business meeting. Hulk has been “under the sauce” the whole time, if you know what I mean. I've been just trying to put everything into something that resembles coherence and cut out all of the gross stuff, like when Hulk kept regurgitating and reswallowing pieces of his lunch or when he made us guess for 20 minutes what kind of underwear he's wearing (I just didn't think “none” was a valid answer). I don't think he knows how to read and write anyway, unless you count Action Comics and Hustler as reading material.
Well, a little more about me. My name is Trevor and I'm from Buffalo originally. I just broke up with my girlfriend of two years about six months ago, and I am so ready to move on. I don't know what I'm looking for in a relationship quite yet. I mean, I want something serious, but not too serious so I don't get hurt again. Maybe if I could find someone to meet with for coffee a couple of times a . . .
Wait. OMG. What is that? That is the worst . . . It's like a rat died and fell into the sewer and three weeks later its carcass was found in a suitcase full of old socks and rotten eggs. I have to get out of here!
Hulk, Hulk, what are you doing man? GET AWAY FROM ME WITH THAT ARM PIT!!!
HELP! SOMEBODY CALL THE POLICE!!!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Image via WikipediaWith Hillary traveling across the globe, it was bound to happen. Bill has been given a short leash or so our look into his future twitter entries would indicate. This is no way to treat an ex-president. Seriously. Ankle bracelets. House confinement. It's not like he's going to hook up with Monica again. Take his word for it. After all, this is a man that knows what "is" is.
What will things look like in a year's time? Sort of like this:
Bill Clinton's future twitter entry for March 12th,2010
7:45 pm: I'm pretty bored tonight, so I thought that I would update my twit. I really like twitting when I have some time off. I'm making it a goal to keep my twit – “Bill Clinton” – up to date from now on. I enjoy all of the “twitting” that people do, especially my twit friends. In fact, I've got so many twit friends now that I can't count them. I think I might have more than anyone else on this site, literally thousands. Just imagine how many more twits would befriend me if I would write a little more often. I just might even be the most popular twit of all. Who would have thought that “Bill Clinton” would someday be the biggest twit on the Internet?
8:05: Damn. Is this ankle bracelet really necessary? I told Hillary I just wanted to go out for pizza. She thinks pizza is a code word for escort, I guess. Guess it all depends on what your definition of pizza is.
8:30: Well, I couldn't think of much to write about, so I decided to watch TV. Hillary is still not home. Where is she? Well, it looks like it's a choice between a documentary about the making of M.A.S.H. and and reruns of the Cosby show. Man, those kids get funnier every time I see them. I still haven't seen that little kid that says, “What you talkin' 'bout Willis?” Maybe that's a different show.
8:45 Decided to get out the dictionary and look up, once and for all, what the definition of “is” is. There's a lot more to that than I thought. Turns out the word is from Old High German and can be used as abbreviation, prefix, noun, pronoun, or verb, depending on situation and use of apostrophe. And here I thought I was just being a jerk when I answered that question . . .
9:00 I've been looking at family photo of Hillary, Chelsea, and me. Chelsea looks so much like Hillary in the face. The nose, eyes, cheeks, chin – all exactly the same. She really is her mother's daughter!
9:15 Still looking at Chelsea. She really does look like Hillary – not so much like me. Maybe in the ears?
9:20 No the ears are Hillary's too.
9:25 Hmm. Still looking.
9:30 Note to self: have another talk with Hillary about Eric, my college roommate.
9:50 Al Gore just called up. Wants to play some hoops tomorrow. Told him that I'd just pwn his ass like last time if he brought that on. He got mad and hung up the phone. I tried to call back; he wouldn't answer. I'll give him a few days to cool off. Maybe I'll send him a ham or something too.
10:10 Where is Hillary? She should have been home hours ago. Maybe I should call someone or send the Secret Service to look for her? Maybe I'll order in pizza. Is it still free if they aren't here in 30 minutes or less?
10:20 Monica just tried to call. Man, you'd think that a restraining order and three phone number changes would be enough! Seriously, I “did not have sexual relations with that woman”. Okay, true story. I'd just got through watching one million B.C. – Raquel Welch and fur bikini and all – and I'm doin' my thing. At the end, I open my eyes, and there's Monica's dress, just lying in the middle of my office floor, same place she'd thrown it when she was separating laundry the day before. For being an intern, she was such a slob. I tried water, club soda, and nail polish remover – the stain just wouldn't come out. I was going to take it to the dry cleaner on Monday, but then there was that NAFTA thing I had to sign and all that stuff with Saddam, and I forgot. Pretty soon, Ken Starr had that same damn dress, and we all know where the rest of the story goes from there.
Hey, I'm a ex-president. Would I lie? :)
10:50 Well, Hillary just got home. She said, “You've got five minutes to get in bed and get ready before I call Ben Kingsley instead.” That's what passes for romance in our world these days. Well, I better do as she says, so I'm signing off, all y'all twits out there.
Bill Clinton Secret Mistress:
Bill Clinton Secret Mistress:
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Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Image via WikipediaWe have been privileged to peek into the future and catch a glimpse at what Jon Stewart likes to twitter about on a night where he is done hosting the Daily Show. The future is not pretty. What it reveals is a sad man who's mind is fixated on tea bags and servicing -- ahem -- his "porsche."
Don't say I didn't warn you.
Jon Stewart's Twitter entries for April 17th, 2009.
11:35 pm -- Man, I can't believe how stupid these so called “conservatives” are. Lately, they've been discussing how they want to throw a “tea party” for Obama, Joe, and the rest of the crew. They've even offered to “tea bag” everyone involved. Image that. If those idiots only knew how dirty the stuff they're saying is. They probably do – they just like it. I've been busting them over it all week.
12:00 I'm still laughing about all of that. I can't believe those dorks.
12:15 Man, I just can't stop rolling on the floor.
12:30 Wow, still laughing just as hard.
1:00 Still laughing.
1:30 Still laughing
2:00 Still laughing
2:30 Still laughing. I wonder if I'm making too mush of all this. NAH!!!
3:00 Okay, I've stopped laughing now. It's not quite as funny as it used to be. Almost. Not quite.
3:15 Now I'm just bored. I wonder what's on TV.
3:25 There's not much on this time of night. I've seen all the cable por – promo . . . shows . . . for like stuff on . . . the discovery channel . . . and the space launch stuff! (Wonder why my backspace key isn't working).
3:30 I've decided to read some books that my Mo—girlfriend, I mean, keeps around the house. Hmm, Nancy Drew. This could be very, very promising (he he he).
3:45 I just can't believe the words they put into this book! “Investigation”, “orange grove”, “world series”, “grandma's house”. Who let this book get published!? These's guys are so gross!
4:30 Still laughing
5:00 Still laughing
5:15 Still laughing. I wonder if I have a dirty mind? NAH!!!
5:30 Stopped laughing and made a sandwich.
5:45 All this talk about “girl' detectives” and “garage villians” has made me . . . a little . . . “anxious”, if you know what I mean ;) All I can think about is getting some “full service” on my “Porsche” ;) I need an “oil change” with “lube and filter” included. I want “full service with a smile”. I wonder if Hans is home.
5:50 That jerk won't answer his phone. What's wrong with him? He hasn't returned any of my phone calls since I “visited too late” last month and “missed my appointment”. Like he's not replaceable.
5:55 Called Jacques. He swore at me for four minutes straight. Said he didn't want me “dropping by” this time of night, he had “work” in the morning. I'll give him some “work” to do next time I see him!
6:05 Called Enrique. He pretended not to speak English. Kept saying things like “No comprendo Señor.” and “China tu madre . . . “ or something. Have I really made that many enemies?
6:25 Called Chris, Derrick, Stewart, Ron, Chin Wan, Jesse, Terrance, Narashnahat, and Russell. Still no takers on my offer. I even offered very good tips and some “extra” if they would help me out. I've got one more name – my last hope.
6:30 Man, even Michael turned me down. He told me he's moved past “servicing my car” at 6:00 in the morning and I should “either do it my self” or “hire someone”. The nerve.
6:45 a.m. -- Well, I guess that I'll just have to wait till tomorrow to get the oil change on my Porsche. It's already 200 miles past due, but I guess it won't hurt it to go a little longer.
Now, about getting a date . . .
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