(Now I’m waiting for the pardon to set me free with nine more minutes to go)
I’m trying to send the good word of my site out in the midst of the Internet superhighway and so I decided to take stock in my blog.
I need to be more mature. I seem to use the words: ‘crap’, ’damn’, and ‘freakin’ way too much. The appearance of this blog alone is enough to grant me an invitation to Hell—according to my Mom that is.
Actually, I think in my Mom’s eyes, I’m already going to Hell.
If I am going to stay with this: ‘mature, deep, and presentable’ blog, then I need to ask a small favor.
Go find a small post-it note and place it on the upper right hand part of the page, over that immature picture you see. It’s where you see that woman riding the motorbike—you know, the one with the long ass flame protruding out her posterior—place that post-it note over that immature picture.
I mean really, I’m 25 and I should’ve grown up a long time ago.
Then there’s the opening paragraph that describes this blog. I would like to ask another favor in that you should probably ignore that false advertising that I talk about bathwater and squirrel porn.
Who in their right mind would talk about bathwater? What is there to talk about? I mean my best experience with bathwater was when I was 6, taking a bath and I was doing the usual, ‘splishy, splashy’ deal in the tub, when my Mom dropped in this golf ball size pellet in the tub. I was very curious about what my mom just dropped in the tub. That was, UNTIL IT STARTED CHANGING SHAPE. Then the most amazing thing happened!
That little pellet my Mom dropped in the tub just happened to turn into a Popeye washcloth! It was at that point when I started doing ‘splishy, splashy’ with my new Popeye washcloth.
Twas a good day!
Then I want to say that I am not in anyway affiliated with any kinds of squirrel porn. That’s just silly because we all know that squirrels are naked all the time and if one wanted squirrel porn, they’d just head over to the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis campus where the squirrels will walk up to you and do anything for a kernel of popcorn.
Oh and then they had this invention at the State Fair called the squngie or something where one would hang an ear of corn on this hanging rope tied to a spring and the squirrel would then straddle the ear and swing around until it was sick or full.
That was a sight for sore eyes. If only I had $30.
That’s all I know about any kind of squirrel porn. I’m sorry to lead any crazy squirrel fetish horndogs onto this site. I’m sure some of my links to ‘my bloggin’ buddies’ could give you a story or three about squirrel porn to wet your whistle.
I’m sure it’s the immaturity factor that allowed me to lose the Presidential race this last fall. You can bet that in four more years I’ll the most mature little shit you’ve ever seen!
From now on you’re going to find a more mature Berg on this site. No more ‘babe’s or ‘bitching about crap’ or ‘crazy ideas that include people from India’.
I’m going to make this site pure so I can go to heaven.
Unrelated but puzzles me,
Man, I was reading this list of the 40 Cheesiest love songs ever (I admit it, they are a guilty pleasure of mine) and they had the most fucked up entry I have ever seen,
The Wreak of the Edmund Fitzgerald, and I can’t remember what number it was.
But, WTF??? I don’t believe The Wreak… had any connotations of love in the song, and it wasn’t terribly cheesy when the song talks about the death of 29 sailors. Besides all the death, the song goes on to the story of a big ass boat going down in Lake Michigan.
Actually when I think about it, it is a pretty cheesy love song(?). Yeah, this is the type of song I can imagine a bride and groom taking their first dance to.
Sorry, I cant find the link. It was just on MSN the other day.
Anyway, cocaine tuff football picks tomorrow