Thursday, December 30, 2010

New Year's

Saturday is New Year's, and so what? If I wanna celebrate New Year's on for God's sake July Fuckth, I'll do it. I play by my rules and the new year comes when I say, for me.

Those of you who keep up with this blog know that 2010 was not the best of years for me, but who am I to complain? I saw a naked woman, about 40ish, pushing a wheel burrow full of cement over by the gas works. I think they're putting in a new candy machine. I hope they have Heath Bars. For without Heath Bars, no candy machine can rightly call itself by thouest name, saith the Lord. Plus a Yoo-Hoo machine like the one the have over at the gas station across the street from my apartment. The one with the bell ropes.

I don't have a TV now, but if I did, I'd be there with all of you watching Dick Clark (The world's oldest man) gum in the new year from his wheel chair in Palm Springs. He's not able to count down all the way these days, since his stroke, so when they get to four, he'll hand it off to Brian Secrest (is he gay?) who will do 4, 3, 2, 1, and let go of the rope that holds the Times Square Ball up in the air, and let it crash into the crowd, killing thousands.

Probably not, at least not on TV. Maybe after everyone goes home, he'll drop it on Dick and his wife, and see how they make out.

Cancer, back problems, stinky job, smaller pee-pee, and some good stuff made up 2010. But I would rather do 1975 again. But this time without the acne.

So those of you who plan to make it the next two days to the new year, let me take this opportunity to wish you a yada yada yada. And God bless us all, every one.

See you in 2011. If I don't get my hand stuck in the candy machine at the gas station across the street from my house trying to steal a Heath Bar.

Stalls will be open on your big ass day. Just make sure if you need to use my facilities, that your big ass ain't too big for my nice fur seats.

Shalom, Dagwood.


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