The first one now will later be last

If there's one thing that's fundamentally fucked up about blogs it's that sometimes the first post you want people to see becomes the last one or vice versa. Here I am, just chillin wearing a 100% cotton t-shirt, khaki pants and some trusty Nike's, wrapping up my guest blogging session for Year of the Blog but this is going to be the first thing you people read. That's fucked up, perception is all off and shit so let me just ex post facto entice you into some carpe diem with the dick of my mind all up in here.

I'm not claiming much, just some humble touch typing abilities and a filter that got all busted up in the emphasemic lungs of the Marlboro Man himself.

and the drums get faster and faster, they start beating furiously like a frustrated 13 year old ready to bust out of, but sadly and more likely, into, his sweat pants and he contemplates the physical possibilities of himself and Jennifer Garner. I once cried during an episode of "Walker, Texas Ranger" and I'm not sure how many people I've shared this with because of the incredible power I feel it gives me. No one can question the depths of my empathy. Sympathy blows though, ask Susan Sontag, oh yea, she dead, but still, she leaves behind the written word to back up my claims, but like all claims things can be bent and twisted the truth like metal workers, doing the impossible, which I was told is nothing, but I thought nothing was the taint, the grundle, the precenium, that unfortunate patch of skin, relegated to the worst NIMBY in the case of intelligent design, right in between the violence riddled hood and the downwind blowoff of a nuclear power plant. Enjoy your beginnings, this is my ending.