I know I’m not supposed to be blogging on Saturday, but frankly there’s a lot of shit I’m not supposed to do and we all know just how well I listen.
In addition to knowing that I don’t follow direction well, we also know that a big bulk of my traffic comes from The Other McCain. Hell, right now it’s floating right around 28%.
So now that we all know most of my traffic comes from The Other McCain AND I couldn’t follow the rules, even if the only rule was don’t follow the rules, I’m going to do the only thing I’m good at…fuck everything up.
Where, oh where, to begin…well let me just cut to the chase.
I got screwed out of a bullet. Yeah, that’s right. You heard me…screwed out of a bullet.
McCain’s henchman Smitty wrote a Rule 2 compilation this morning and everybody’s favorite middle-aged fat drunk guy got himself some love.
Why bitch then motard?
Hold your fucking horses. What I didn’t get with my love, was my own fucking bullet. You heard me right…bullet.
Everyone else got their own bullet except me. I got crammed in with Below the Beltway so my little slice of love looked like this:
What the ever-living fuck? Plus he disses my ink. So help me God.
Ok, ok, ok…calm down, Bob. You’re just going to blow a good thing again. You know you always do this. Just when everything is going your way, you open your big trap, bitch about some minor shit that no one else but you really cares about and…BLAMO…the whole thing blows up in your face.
Just. Get. A. Grip.
Ok...breathe. Alright, I’m cool. You know this is funny, because this very thing reminds me of an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, where Ray purposely sabotaged his relationship with Deborah because of his fear of success.
Which brings me to my point…Patricia Heaton’s boobs. Happy Rule 5!
In addition to knowing that I don’t follow direction well, we also know that a big bulk of my traffic comes from The Other McCain. Hell, right now it’s floating right around 28%.
So now that we all know most of my traffic comes from The Other McCain AND I couldn’t follow the rules, even if the only rule was don’t follow the rules, I’m going to do the only thing I’m good at…fuck everything up.
Where, oh where, to begin…well let me just cut to the chase.
I got screwed out of a bullet. Yeah, that’s right. You heard me…screwed out of a bullet.
McCain’s henchman Smitty wrote a Rule 2 compilation this morning and everybody’s favorite middle-aged fat drunk guy got himself some love.
Why bitch then motard?
Hold your fucking horses. What I didn’t get with my love, was my own fucking bullet. You heard me right…bullet.
Everyone else got their own bullet except me. I got crammed in with Below the Beltway so my little slice of love looked like this:
- Below the Beltway celebrates its millionth visitor with a hat tip to RSM and
some Charlize Theron Rule 5Bob's Bar and Grill has the eloquently titled drunk-blog post Blah Blah Blah. I don't know. It made a good palate cleanser. I had to leave this
blog promptly, due to PTSD brought on by that arm tattoo from last week.
*shudder*
What the ever-living fuck? Plus he disses my ink. So help me God.
Ok, ok, ok…calm down, Bob. You’re just going to blow a good thing again. You know you always do this. Just when everything is going your way, you open your big trap, bitch about some minor shit that no one else but you really cares about and…BLAMO…the whole thing blows up in your face.
Just. Get. A. Grip.
Ok...breathe. Alright, I’m cool. You know this is funny, because this very thing reminds me of an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond, where Ray purposely sabotaged his relationship with Deborah because of his fear of success.
Which brings me to my point…Patricia Heaton’s boobs. Happy Rule 5!
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