we could do with some more poison.

24 nitrous canisters liven things up a bit.
Dr. No doesn't know the meaning of the word.
but i gotta ask, who's watching the money?
certainly not me...
must be the drunken master with the "Black Card."
tiger woods ain't got shit on Wii.
turns out electric ranges are great surfaces for cutting lines of amphetamines.
go figure.
high contrast.
nigh bombast.
weapons of all sorts, unaccounted for, lost and found, then lost again.
stallion insignia and the new London, a few mistook it for Hollywood.
this is why i put drugs up my nose.
toxic amounts of whatever you wanna call it babydoll.
but there's a thing called tolerance.
maybe you've heard of it, you fucking bigot.
lucrative contracts.
20 million dollars a year, yet still quite rife with fear.
use your inside voice please.
silent libraries make the world go round.
that and underaged, hairless vagina.
Balthazar ain't just a river in Egypt dontchaknow...
multiple pee parties on the SoHo streets keep things interesting.
to be sure.
chill retardo, south beach Gallardo...
but last i checked, this wasn't Miami.
it was Monsignor Carlo's mojito bar.
it's friday?
might as well go out nine nights in a row.
fuck a job.
fuck a class.
fuck a familial relationship.
fuck a credit rating.
new york city cops, they ain't too tart.
we'll leave that to the COUGARS.
the San Jose Cougars that is.
five-time FABBL champs.
mending a struggling relationship (or three) is cake.
trying to keep the bloody, tattered innards of your sinus cavity from spilling all over your slim-fit Ralph Lauren sport suit...
now that's a trial.
so let it be known, that from this day forth,
all men (and a select few lasses) shall dedicate every second of every day of every week to the Fight.
the rebellion against an entire epoch of woeful stagnation.
let generativity be your goal, and shall all your psychosocial dreams come true.
now fuck off, quit botherin' me ya twat!
can't you see i'm tryin' to find meself a straw?

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