- DALE
P.S.
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Thursday, August 14, 2008
THAT'S ENOUGH MARY CARILLO
SERIOUSLY DUDE. GO PLAY A SPORT LIKE NORMAL GUYS.
- DALE
P.S.
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- DALE
P.S.
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Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Y'all Better Wake The Fuck Up And Let's Go One More Time Around
DALE IS BACK. Like the Empire, but I ain't strikin', just livebloggin' from the Beijing Olympics. Alicia Sacramone just fucked up her balance beam mount, but in more positive news I've realized her ass deserves some appreciation as well. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be as much documentation as my girl Misty has seen, plus the broad is only 20 now so image search is sketch. Steve will probably take care of that though, age ain't nothin' but a number to him if ya na'mean. Anyway, if you ain't watchin', you'll just have to take my word for it (and the status of my pants) (on the floor).
This balance beam shit is insane. I can't even walk the white line on the road, and trust me, I've had to do that like half a dozen times. Shawn Johnson just fuckin' dominated but I'm more scared than amazed. Little pixie tramp could probably whip my ass from like 40 different angles and she's only 4'9" or some shit. I'd be like lookin' to jack up with my creatine and I'd already be in the hospital.
Oh, and big fuckin' surprise, Phelps destroyed souls today. Two events, two gold medals, two world records. That's how we do it in America. Not sure if you were aware. I was really thinkin' fascism had its advantages before these Olympics got underway, and even through the opening ceremony I was all "man China might be all that, I wonder if I can walk there" but now I'm like USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA MAY'S ASS USA like you should all be.
OK Alicia is gonna do her spot in the last rotation, time to get to it. DALE OUT.
P.S. Ah she just fucked up. This shit is rigged. Maybe she's communist. I'll console her. And by console I mean sexually stimulate.
P.P.S.
This balance beam shit is insane. I can't even walk the white line on the road, and trust me, I've had to do that like half a dozen times. Shawn Johnson just fuckin' dominated but I'm more scared than amazed. Little pixie tramp could probably whip my ass from like 40 different angles and she's only 4'9" or some shit. I'd be like lookin' to jack up with my creatine and I'd already be in the hospital.
Oh, and big fuckin' surprise, Phelps destroyed souls today. Two events, two gold medals, two world records. That's how we do it in America. Not sure if you were aware. I was really thinkin' fascism had its advantages before these Olympics got underway, and even through the opening ceremony I was all "man China might be all that, I wonder if I can walk there" but now I'm like USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA USA MAY'S ASS USA like you should all be.
OK Alicia is gonna do her spot in the last rotation, time to get to it. DALE OUT.
P.S. Ah she just fucked up. This shit is rigged. Maybe she's communist. I'll console her. And by console I mean sexually stimulate.
P.P.S.
Monday, August 11, 2008
I'm Gonna Go Masturbate
You know how in Death to Smoochy Spinner Dunn says, "Hey, Sheldon I'm gonna go take a dump!"
Well, I'm gonna go masturbate, cuz Misty May-Treanor reminds me that I need to do that. I hope Dale don't come fuckin runnin in my room, cuz I broke the damn door lock last week when I was playing waterless Marco-Polo with this girl I met at a bar.
I didn't need to masturbate that night if YOU GET MY DRIFT.
If you don't get my drift, I'll explain. I GOT LAID.
Misty, long live that ass.
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Well, I'm gonna go masturbate, cuz Misty May-Treanor reminds me that I need to do that. I hope Dale don't come fuckin runnin in my room, cuz I broke the damn door lock last week when I was playing waterless Marco-Polo with this girl I met at a bar.
I didn't need to masturbate that night if YOU GET MY DRIFT.
If you don't get my drift, I'll explain. I GOT LAID.
Misty, long live that ass.
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HOW'D I geton the CouCh? i feel funny. typin good though. got mys econd win. in other news:
YEAH FRANCE WHAT'S U PYOU CHEESE EATIN SURRENDER MONKEYS YEAH FUCK WOO yo misty where you at? i bet she was excited as shit for phelps. ah phelps. that's a hunk of burnin love right there.
man why we still watchin' mens gymnastics. where are all the white women.
oh hey here's two:
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damn. hey i'm thirsty. i need somepoiueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
YEAH FRANCE WHAT'S U PYOU CHEESE EATIN SURRENDER MONKEYS YEAH FUCK WOO yo misty where you at? i bet she was excited as shit for phelps. ah phelps. that's a hunk of burnin love right there.
man why we still watchin' mens gymnastics. where are all the white women.
oh hey here's two:
Quickpost this image to Myspace, Digg, Facebook, and others!damn. hey i'm thirsty. i need somepoiueeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Upper Body Strength, or Some More Things About Misty's Ass
Chen Yibbing just destroyed on the rings, and hot damn that guy's got some upper body strength. He hung vertical for about four seconds. Fuck, I have trouble just lifting Dale's drunk ass from the fuckin' computer chair, you know?
Some status on Dale: First off, don't worry, He gets like this a lot. Or, he used to. See, Dale is a recovered alcoholic. He used to be fuckin-a crazy at the parties. Frank the Tank?- pfffffffff, somebody beat me off. He ain't got nothin' on Dale "You Gonna have to post bale" Mankowski. I swear, that crazy son of a bitch would always end up behind bars after a night of heavy drinking. So, his uptight family had an intervention one day, and Dale had to promise he wouldn't drink anymore and that he'd go to AA. Well, he's been clean for a while.
But, fuck, you gotta celebrate when Misty May-Treanor plays the volleyball. So, unbeknownst to him, I poured some SoCo into his creatine to get him in party mode. Fuckin-awesome.
Apparently that motherfucker can't handle his booze, because he passed out on the fuckin keyboard. I had to drag, shove, kick him to the couch. I think he's mumblin' something about Misty right now. Could be about Phelps, that motherfucker just secured the fastest times in the pre-LIMBS. Motherfucker gots some gills or something.
So, that leads me to my point. Misty has such a great ass. It's like the pinnacle of allness.
Fuckin shit, I just thought up the next script for Indiana Jones. It's called "Indiana Jones and the Search for Misty May-Treanor's Ass." That'll be his most sought-after relic yet. Fuck the cup of youth, and those crystal skulls, and that thing he searched for in the first movie. This movie takes place in Beijing, and Indiana comes in with his hat, crackin his whip and yelling, "Get down." Then Shia shows up, talking about Decepticons and driving drunk and fuckin up scheduling, and then he's all like "Megan Fox is hot and all, but she ain't got shit on Misty May-Treanor." Then they turn that shit into a musical and sing an aria called "Misty May-Treanor's Golden Ass." It wins a grammy and an oscar. Then there's some explosions, a tension-filled game of volleyball, and the end battle sequence where Shia gets hit repeatedly in the cherries like he did in "The Crystal Skull." After that hilarious stuff, Misty May-Treanor comes out and says, "You boys like this?" Then she points at her ass. It wins an oscar and a Hollywood star. Her ass does, I mean.
So, fuck it, George Lucas owes me money, Shia owes me respect, and Indiana Jones owes me a hat.
Dale's fucking around with the remote, trying to "bring back" Misty's match. That motherfucker must think we got Tivo or something. In actuality we're stealing the cable from next door.
One more thing: Have you ever noticed how your pants get a little tighter when Misty May-Treanor comes on screen? It's like she's got some magnets or something. Fuck if I know, I prolly should have paid attention is sex-education class.
One more thing: Misty has a great ass.
One more thing:
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Some status on Dale: First off, don't worry, He gets like this a lot. Or, he used to. See, Dale is a recovered alcoholic. He used to be fuckin-a crazy at the parties. Frank the Tank?- pfffffffff, somebody beat me off. He ain't got nothin' on Dale "You Gonna have to post bale" Mankowski. I swear, that crazy son of a bitch would always end up behind bars after a night of heavy drinking. So, his uptight family had an intervention one day, and Dale had to promise he wouldn't drink anymore and that he'd go to AA. Well, he's been clean for a while.
But, fuck, you gotta celebrate when Misty May-Treanor plays the volleyball. So, unbeknownst to him, I poured some SoCo into his creatine to get him in party mode. Fuckin-awesome.
Apparently that motherfucker can't handle his booze, because he passed out on the fuckin keyboard. I had to drag, shove, kick him to the couch. I think he's mumblin' something about Misty right now. Could be about Phelps, that motherfucker just secured the fastest times in the pre-LIMBS. Motherfucker gots some gills or something.
So, that leads me to my point. Misty has such a great ass. It's like the pinnacle of allness.
Fuckin shit, I just thought up the next script for Indiana Jones. It's called "Indiana Jones and the Search for Misty May-Treanor's Ass." That'll be his most sought-after relic yet. Fuck the cup of youth, and those crystal skulls, and that thing he searched for in the first movie. This movie takes place in Beijing, and Indiana comes in with his hat, crackin his whip and yelling, "Get down." Then Shia shows up, talking about Decepticons and driving drunk and fuckin up scheduling, and then he's all like "Megan Fox is hot and all, but she ain't got shit on Misty May-Treanor." Then they turn that shit into a musical and sing an aria called "Misty May-Treanor's Golden Ass." It wins a grammy and an oscar. Then there's some explosions, a tension-filled game of volleyball, and the end battle sequence where Shia gets hit repeatedly in the cherries like he did in "The Crystal Skull." After that hilarious stuff, Misty May-Treanor comes out and says, "You boys like this?" Then she points at her ass. It wins an oscar and a Hollywood star. Her ass does, I mean.
So, fuck it, George Lucas owes me money, Shia owes me respect, and Indiana Jones owes me a hat.
Dale's fucking around with the remote, trying to "bring back" Misty's match. That motherfucker must think we got Tivo or something. In actuality we're stealing the cable from next door.
One more thing: Have you ever noticed how your pants get a little tighter when Misty May-Treanor comes on screen? It's like she's got some magnets or something. Fuck if I know, I prolly should have paid attention is sex-education class.
One more thing: Misty has a great ass.
One more thing:
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Misty isd ousdfpuoidfupoafsd/1``1```````````````````````
man, "Glycerine" is like the best song ever.
Dallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllle[
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Dallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllle[
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Michael Phelps, or How I'm Going to Get Misty Into a Hot Tub
Steve comin' at you buzzed, pumped, and in love.
Here's the deal. Michael Phelps just tore up the swimming pool, getting his third medal, which, like my main man Dale said is a lot. And here he is swimming and all that, and I think to myself, I need to get Misty into a hot tub.
So here's my first date with Misty.
I tell her I'm gonna pick her up at about a quarter to eight, and then I show up thirty minutes late. Here's why. Women love that shit. It's mystery, irresponsibility, and sexiness all in one.
So I ring the doorbell. She comes to the door looking like an angel straight from albatross island. She's wearing a bikini and a feather boa. I say, "You look like the new hotness." She says, "You look good enough to spike." I hand her a box of melted chocolates that I bought earlier in the day, and like a total motherfucker left in the hot car all fuckin' day. I tell her Dale, my motherfuck of a roommate, melted them. It makes no sense, but she laughs.
So I say, "Let's get some fuckin' food." We go to McDonald's and I pay for it. Then I say, "Look, let's go chillax in a hot tub." She says okay.
First we go to a wal-mart and steal a garden hose. I stuff that shit down my pants and even though there's a huge bulge nobody says nothin' cuz I got the GOODS, you know? Then we break into a pool store. I learned how to break a window all ninja-silent back in Boy Skowtz. So it takes me twenty fuckin' minutes to find a place to screw the hose in, weird cuz it's a FUCKIN POOL STORE, right? Finally I duct-tape the thing to the bathroom faucet. It takes about two and half hours to fill this hot tub up, but that's cool. Misty and I talk and get to know one another. She explains the physics of a well-placed bump, and I tell her about the time I got my hand stuck in a vending machine.
The hot tub is finally full, so we get in. It's hot as a son of a bitch, but I cool it down with some ice cubes I find in the backroom refrigerator. I light a candle. It smells of victory lavender, which is a combination of lavender, volleyballs, and sand. We laugh and I tell some crude, somewhat sexist jokes Dale taught me. She laughs cuz she's a slick-rigged motherfucker.
We stay in the hot tub till we're pruny as a couple pugs. I ask her if she wants to get some late night coffee and shit, and she says, "Well I need to get home to my husband."
I tell her that's cool, but before you go I have a poem. She acts all shy and shit, you the way women get when you're about to do something cute. I read it to her. It says this: "I used to think volleyball was a bunch of shit, but then I saw Misty hit- that ball straight to the ground, round and round after motherfuckin' round.- Her ass is a lustrous moon, my eyes are two staring stars- the way she hits a volleyball makes me want to steal cars- like DMX the rapper, who has a lot of money but steals anyways. Misty May-Treanor, you are one fine fox."
Then I drop her off and head home. I tell Dale all about. I think he's jealous, but fuck it, you know? Who ain't.
I ask him if he minds. He says he doesn't mind, but I can tell he kind of minds, but I'm going to do it anyway.
Only a total gay would stay loyal to a friend when Misty May-Treanor's ass is up for grabs.
In case you sluts forgot what it looks like, check this:
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Here's the deal. Michael Phelps just tore up the swimming pool, getting his third medal, which, like my main man Dale said is a lot. And here he is swimming and all that, and I think to myself, I need to get Misty into a hot tub.
So here's my first date with Misty.
I tell her I'm gonna pick her up at about a quarter to eight, and then I show up thirty minutes late. Here's why. Women love that shit. It's mystery, irresponsibility, and sexiness all in one.
So I ring the doorbell. She comes to the door looking like an angel straight from albatross island. She's wearing a bikini and a feather boa. I say, "You look like the new hotness." She says, "You look good enough to spike." I hand her a box of melted chocolates that I bought earlier in the day, and like a total motherfucker left in the hot car all fuckin' day. I tell her Dale, my motherfuck of a roommate, melted them. It makes no sense, but she laughs.
So I say, "Let's get some fuckin' food." We go to McDonald's and I pay for it. Then I say, "Look, let's go chillax in a hot tub." She says okay.
First we go to a wal-mart and steal a garden hose. I stuff that shit down my pants and even though there's a huge bulge nobody says nothin' cuz I got the GOODS, you know? Then we break into a pool store. I learned how to break a window all ninja-silent back in Boy Skowtz. So it takes me twenty fuckin' minutes to find a place to screw the hose in, weird cuz it's a FUCKIN POOL STORE, right? Finally I duct-tape the thing to the bathroom faucet. It takes about two and half hours to fill this hot tub up, but that's cool. Misty and I talk and get to know one another. She explains the physics of a well-placed bump, and I tell her about the time I got my hand stuck in a vending machine.
The hot tub is finally full, so we get in. It's hot as a son of a bitch, but I cool it down with some ice cubes I find in the backroom refrigerator. I light a candle. It smells of victory lavender, which is a combination of lavender, volleyballs, and sand. We laugh and I tell some crude, somewhat sexist jokes Dale taught me. She laughs cuz she's a slick-rigged motherfucker.
We stay in the hot tub till we're pruny as a couple pugs. I ask her if she wants to get some late night coffee and shit, and she says, "Well I need to get home to my husband."
I tell her that's cool, but before you go I have a poem. She acts all shy and shit, you the way women get when you're about to do something cute. I read it to her. It says this: "I used to think volleyball was a bunch of shit, but then I saw Misty hit- that ball straight to the ground, round and round after motherfuckin' round.- Her ass is a lustrous moon, my eyes are two staring stars- the way she hits a volleyball makes me want to steal cars- like DMX the rapper, who has a lot of money but steals anyways. Misty May-Treanor, you are one fine fox."
Then I drop her off and head home. I tell Dale all about. I think he's jealous, but fuck it, you know? Who ain't.
I ask him if he minds. He says he doesn't mind, but I can tell he kind of minds, but I'm going to do it anyway.
Only a total gay would stay loyal to a friend when Misty May-Treanor's ass is up for grabs.
In case you sluts forgot what it looks like, check this:
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THIS JUST IN: PHELPS IS GOOD, SO IS MAY'S ASS
I said I was out, but I'm back in. It's like some Godfather shit, or somethin', I don't know I ain't got time for movies with all this bloggin' I'm doin'. I also don't like the letter "g." Somethin' else I ain't crazy about is this creatine I'm downin', which is normally like a sweet ray of sunshine in my day, not unlike Misty's ass (see I call her Misty 'cause we're personal like that - everyone else gotta call her May or May-Treanor or "yo woman"). Tastin' a little funny and I'm feelin' a little funny now that I'm thinkin' about it a bit here. Anyway.
You may have noticed I mentioned a dude in my blog title. I know that ain't really in line with this blog's PHIlosophy, but we gonna make an exception here 'cause Michael Phelps is flat out stud material. You know, in a straight way. He just won his third gold medal of this very Olympics and that's a lot. That's like, I don't even know, it's just a lot. If you're worryin' about specifics and whatnot you came to the wrong place. That brings me to another point.
If you haven't figured it out yet, we're live-bloggin' from the Beijing Olympics. And by live-blogging from the Beijing Olympics I mean watchin' it on TV and writin' about it several minutes later. Steve's over there givin' Cris Collinsworth the googly-eyes and I'm just finishin' my creatine off and that's weird I think the wall's movin'. Lost my train of thought. What was I talkin' 'bout?
Oh yeah:
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...what? I wasn't talkin' 'bout that? Why the fuck not? And why are you givin' me shit about it? You SEE that ass? We should all be talkin' 'bout that. All the time. Like, there could be some shit goin' on in Geneva with all them gov'ment types (why the hell are they meetin' in the middle of the IL anyway) and if they know what they're doin' the topic is all "What I wouldn't give to lick the sand off that caboose, na'mean?" and Putin would be all "I'm Russian." Then Tom Brady comes up out of nowhere and is like "Yeah I hit that, but no surprise amirite?" and them gov'ment types are all "tru."
Need some creatine. Dale=out.
P.S.
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You may have noticed I mentioned a dude in my blog title. I know that ain't really in line with this blog's PHIlosophy, but we gonna make an exception here 'cause Michael Phelps is flat out stud material. You know, in a straight way. He just won his third gold medal of this very Olympics and that's a lot. That's like, I don't even know, it's just a lot. If you're worryin' about specifics and whatnot you came to the wrong place. That brings me to another point.
If you haven't figured it out yet, we're live-bloggin' from the Beijing Olympics. And by live-blogging from the Beijing Olympics I mean watchin' it on TV and writin' about it several minutes later. Steve's over there givin' Cris Collinsworth the googly-eyes and I'm just finishin' my creatine off and that's weird I think the wall's movin'. Lost my train of thought. What was I talkin' 'bout?
Oh yeah:
Quickpost this image to Myspace, Digg, Facebook, and others!...what? I wasn't talkin' 'bout that? Why the fuck not? And why are you givin' me shit about it? You SEE that ass? We should all be talkin' 'bout that. All the time. Like, there could be some shit goin' on in Geneva with all them gov'ment types (why the hell are they meetin' in the middle of the IL anyway) and if they know what they're doin' the topic is all "What I wouldn't give to lick the sand off that caboose, na'mean?" and Putin would be all "I'm Russian." Then Tom Brady comes up out of nowhere and is like "Yeah I hit that, but no surprise amirite?" and them gov'ment types are all "tru."
Need some creatine. Dale=out.
P.S.
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Men's Gymnastics, or How This Sport Needs More of May-Treanor's Ass
Hey Sluts: Steve signing in. If you're like me, you just witnessed the phenom that is May-Treanor/Walsh dominating the sand. To celebrate I drank a fourth of a bottle of Southern Comfort. Check this, Dale doesn't know this, but I dumped like half the fucking bottle in his creatine shake, and my guess is he's about halfway to fucked-up town, USA, population Dale "Push-Ups" Mankowski.
So any-damn-ways, here I was celebrating May-Treanor's victory, drinking, laughing, screaming at the mirror in the bathroom. And I come out, and here's Men's Gymnastics. Now, look. I'm the first one to admire their talent. They got so much strength in they's upper body, it's nuts. I mean, the guy from China, Chen Yibbing, he just rocked. Stepped out of the ring a bit, but shit...he's spinning around on the floor like I'd like to be doing with Misty right now.
Which leads me to my fuckin' point. Men's Gymnastics needs Misty May-Treanor's callipygian perfection up in there. And if you fucks don't know what that word means, go to Border's Books and Music, ask the motherfucker behind the counter to direct you to the dictionary, then flip to the Cs and look up callipygian. If that motherfucker is worth the paper it's printed on, you'll see a picture of May-Treanor's perfect ass. It looks like this:
By the way, those fingers are pointing at the perfection.
So, back to my point: The Olympics should be renamed the O-hot damn, May-Treanor's ass is a symbol of greatness-lympics.
Look, the iron cross and vault are great, but put those motherfuckers in a bikini and nothing happens. Get May-Treanor in there wearing her sexiness and you got ratings shooting out the rooftops.
9:08 pm, Misty's been done for about a half hour, I'm a quarter way through Soco, and I'm missing her like crazy. PLEASE, gimme more volleyball. Damn, I sound like a school girl again. A school girl who desperately wants to make love to Misty May-Treanor. That's a reference to Dumb and Dumber, you sluts.
PS- Look at this:
So any-damn-ways, here I was celebrating May-Treanor's victory, drinking, laughing, screaming at the mirror in the bathroom. And I come out, and here's Men's Gymnastics. Now, look. I'm the first one to admire their talent. They got so much strength in they's upper body, it's nuts. I mean, the guy from China, Chen Yibbing, he just rocked. Stepped out of the ring a bit, but shit...he's spinning around on the floor like I'd like to be doing with Misty right now.
Which leads me to my fuckin' point. Men's Gymnastics needs Misty May-Treanor's callipygian perfection up in there. And if you fucks don't know what that word means, go to Border's Books and Music, ask the motherfucker behind the counter to direct you to the dictionary, then flip to the Cs and look up callipygian. If that motherfucker is worth the paper it's printed on, you'll see a picture of May-Treanor's perfect ass. It looks like this:
By the way, those fingers are pointing at the perfection.
So, back to my point: The Olympics should be renamed the O-hot damn, May-Treanor's ass is a symbol of greatness-lympics.
Look, the iron cross and vault are great, but put those motherfuckers in a bikini and nothing happens. Get May-Treanor in there wearing her sexiness and you got ratings shooting out the rooftops.
9:08 pm, Misty's been done for about a half hour, I'm a quarter way through Soco, and I'm missing her like crazy. PLEASE, gimme more volleyball. Damn, I sound like a school girl again. A school girl who desperately wants to make love to Misty May-Treanor. That's a reference to Dumb and Dumber, you sluts.
PS- Look at this:
THE SWEET ASS OF VICTORY
It's roughly 8:35 or thereabouts somewhere around there and Misty May's sweet ass (oh and Walsh is there too, kind of a surfboard but she ain't halfbad) just whooped the HELL out of those commie Cubans. It's moments like these when I like to sit back and reflect on where the world would be without that derriere. Hell. That's where we'd be. In case you were wondering, like I was.
In other news, this Mary Carillo dude is talkin' about Chinese trains and it's like, listen man, you could be talking about Misty May like a normal straight male and not some damn public transportation.
Anyway, I'm gonna go get my rocks off for a bit and wonder if Misty's showerin' yet. This is Dale, signin' off.
P.S.
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P.P.S.
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In other news, this Mary Carillo dude is talkin' about Chinese trains and it's like, listen man, you could be talking about Misty May like a normal straight male and not some damn public transportation.
Anyway, I'm gonna go get my rocks off for a bit and wonder if Misty's showerin' yet. This is Dale, signin' off.
P.S.
Quickpost this image to Myspace, Digg, Facebook, and others!P.P.S.
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Spike That Ass, or How I Feel About Misty's Ass
First offs, it's 8:24pm on Monday, August 11th. May-Treanor and Walsh are dominating the Cubans in the 2008 Summer Olympics.
I gots to speak it to the truth: Any Olympics with Misty May-Treanor as a competitor ain't that LIMP. You hear me???
She's got arms like a soaring albatross, legs like the golden pillars of Blissville, the ability to spike a ball like Thor's motherfuckin' uncle, and THAT ASS- which I voted the top ass ever created. The results to that vote, which features me voting exclusively, will be featured in a magazine I'm going to write in three days. It'll impact at the newstand next week under the title "Hot Diggity Daffodil, May-Treanor's ass is the greatest thing this side of the motherfuckin' Universe."
In other news, May-Treanor just hit the ball and I think I exploded in my pants. That white headband makes me want to buy a white headband. That bikini makes me want to buy a bikini. Nautica, you motherfuckers, give me May-Treanor's headband.
PS- That Cuba communistic bullshit ain't gots nothing on America's communistic spike-machines.
They just showed Butch May on the television set. He looks pissed, probably because he knows I'm going to ruin his daughter's marriage and take her husband's place and- WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! 8:32 pm, cameraman Spectacular just focused on May-Treanor's ass. Now some motherfucker announcer is saying, "Who's this young guy?" Hey, dick, why you gots to be talking about a young guy when her ass is all up ins the camera? You got some kind of head-up-the-ass syndrome?
Okay. Steve's out this motherfucker. Be back soon.
PS again- Misty May-Treanor has a great ass. Here's the proof:
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I gots to speak it to the truth: Any Olympics with Misty May-Treanor as a competitor ain't that LIMP. You hear me???
She's got arms like a soaring albatross, legs like the golden pillars of Blissville, the ability to spike a ball like Thor's motherfuckin' uncle, and THAT ASS- which I voted the top ass ever created. The results to that vote, which features me voting exclusively, will be featured in a magazine I'm going to write in three days. It'll impact at the newstand next week under the title "Hot Diggity Daffodil, May-Treanor's ass is the greatest thing this side of the motherfuckin' Universe."
In other news, May-Treanor just hit the ball and I think I exploded in my pants. That white headband makes me want to buy a white headband. That bikini makes me want to buy a bikini. Nautica, you motherfuckers, give me May-Treanor's headband.
PS- That Cuba communistic bullshit ain't gots nothing on America's communistic spike-machines.
They just showed Butch May on the television set. He looks pissed, probably because he knows I'm going to ruin his daughter's marriage and take her husband's place and- WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! 8:32 pm, cameraman Spectacular just focused on May-Treanor's ass. Now some motherfucker announcer is saying, "Who's this young guy?" Hey, dick, why you gots to be talking about a young guy when her ass is all up ins the camera? You got some kind of head-up-the-ass syndrome?
Okay. Steve's out this motherfucker. Be back soon.
PS again- Misty May-Treanor has a great ass. Here's the proof:
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