Concealed Carry

Girls are always asking me, "Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

Let me clear this up:

It's a gun.

MacMow

I've been wanting to mow the lawn for the past couple days, but it's been raining.  And it's supposed to rain every day for the next week.  I should just mow in the rain, naked, like a Scotsman.

Like a true Scotsman!

...

Aw, hell.  I'm Irish.  Which means I have to mow drunk while punching a woman.

...

OK, so my dad and I just say we're Irish.  We're actually English.  Which means I have to mow in a corduroy blazer with elbow patches.  And it's summer, which means that's going to make it fucking hot.

OK

I totes, TOTES promise to write something new (or newish) sometime soon (or soonish).

Holy shit it's those creepy claymation chocolate chip cookies. And I think one of them wants to rape that blonde chick.

Wait, no, she digs him. Although she's probably just flirting with him to suck him in so she can chomp on his delicious chips. SUCCUBUS! SUCCUBI! ALL OF YOU!