Friday, February 8, 2013


Someone recommended this new internet sensation,  Said it was made for me, or I for it.  We were made for each other, like government goes with tyranny, or empty carbs with masturbation.  Well let me assure you, I am not unfamiliar with Twattle.  I twatt, as we say, all the time.  Constantly on my Blueberry sledging the slope, as we say.  I am one with-it dude.  There's no meaningless flash-in-the-pan fad that I'm not mounted on like Madonna

on a mechanical bull.
So I'm not going to give my name du femme, as we say in French, because that account has my face and full body shot as wallpaper, along with my professional contact info -- I'm a part-time celebrity spokesmodel for something French, and also I have a new reality television program all about my daily adventures, like who it is who's eating the leftovers out of my refrigerator, and I solve the mystery by installing a nannycam behind a strategic hole placed in a full body shot pic of myself in the kitchen.  And then I'm at Starbucks and I use some chick's wifi to remotely view the culprit, and it turns out to be Victoria Principal,
my old squeeze from the late '70s.  And then I burst in and confront her, and I'm all, "Dude, what's up with this, you eating my egg salad like that?"  And she's like, "You left me, Jack, you left me holding the bag, for that skanky slut Heather Locklear,
and I never forgave you!"  "No! No! It was you! You cheated on me with that preening peacock Lorenzo Lamas
and ain't no way I'm gonna play in his sloppy seconds!" "You bastard! He meant nothing to me, nothing! I was totally coked up at Studio 54
and it just happened!  No man could ever compare to you! You awesome stud with your sexy big organs that turn me on so much!"  "That's right babe, you know it!" I purred sexily, "now put down that tupperware and get your hot bod over here!  Oh, and here's Justin Timberlake
... all the merrier!"  It just gets better from there, so tune in every fourth Monday at 2:55 AM on, sponsored by MySpace.  Blow your mind, baby.

But re Twattle that whole 144 character thing is a bit constricting, which I don't mind in underwear but my brain must roam free like the wild antelope bounding cross the expansive American plains of the Old West.  Nevertheless, I'll share a few of my deep twatts with you:
  • Ever wonder why hot dogs come in packs of 8 but buns come in packs of 10?
  • Man, ever notice how bad airplane food is? 
  • Did you ever notice that dog is God spelled backwards?  
  • Ever notice how people are always on their laptops at Starbucks?
Well, that's all I have so far, it's harder than you'd think, coming up with these brief bone motts as we say in French completely out of my own head and still staying fresh and happening.  But if anyone can, it's me...


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