It just dawned on me that it’s getting darker earlier. Maybe it’s because the sun is setting faster. You know, like that old Elton John song “Don’t Let Your Son Go Down On Me.” Also, I’ve been meaning to ask if you have another copy of that peanut butter & jelly sandwich recipe. I seem to be missing a key ingredient ‘cause when I try to eat two large scoops of peanut butter & jelly cupped in my hands, the sticky mess just smears all over my face. Wait a second--it’s bread, isn’t it? Damn I was actually thinking about a yeast-based, two-sectioned flat barrier that could contain both the peanut butter & the jelly in a sandwich-like capacity.
Strange too, since I’m half of a trio of short order cooks working at the Trapezoid deli,
Song of the Day:
James Pants, "Ka$h (Peanut Butter Wolf Remix)"
Monday, August 31, 2009
The following handwritten letter was found this morning on the unseasonably cool marble steps of McKinley Hall:
Posted by Feo Mateo at 11:26 AM
Friday, August 28, 2009
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
He’s supremely confident and hung like a jury of 12. We’re talking about a baseball bat, no foolin’ around, boa constrictor trouser snake for a penis. Attending an exclusive Mediterranean yacht party with a stout Nordic woman brandishing maximum blouse-bursting nipplage, the Paco Camino Man sports kickass fashion sense and expects his women to coordinate. Sure his toned arms are too long for his supervillain sweater, but his reinforced crotch leisure pants securely house his impressive manhood. The Paco Camino Man: The envy of all Eastern European bloc commercial sailing and recreational boating communities since 1956.
Posted by Feo Mateo at 1:03 AM
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
Posted by Feo Mateo at 10:14 AM
Posted by Feo Mateo at 10:04 AM
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Posted by Feo Mateo at 9:56 PM
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Friday, August 07, 2009
He’s a ladies man unafraid to dance in public, considers fresh breath a priority and likes a real clean, close shave. As King of the Dipshits, he'll start the evening having never bagged a babe and making a risky bet with dorks Bryce and Cliff over a dozen floppy disks in exchange for underpants--girls underpants. After interfacing with fully aged sophomore meat vulnerable since her family forgot her 16th birthday (and horrified that her grandmother felt her up), Farmer Ted will convince her to let him borrow her underpants. Ever the entrepreneur, he’ll secretly charge a $1 a freshman to see the panties in the boy’s bathroom, and later tonight, he'll become a Paco Camino Man losing his virginity with prom queen Carolyn Mulford in a Rolls Royce parked across the street from his church. Despite two witnesses, photo proof proved elusive.
RIP screenwriter extraordinaire, John Hughes.