Why Was Mickey Rooney at the Academy Awards?
I just boned my history test. Not just boned, I took it out for an expensive dinner, made it pay for the food, then took it home, sodomized it, finished in 30 seconds, and ended with an uninvited porno-style money shot because I said I would tell it when, but I didn't. Then, I stole gas money from its purse before I kicked it out. And you know what else? I told it that I would call, but I'm not going to. All this was figurative, of course.
I got a little carried away there because last week my accounting test did the same thing to me and I got it even worse. Problem number 2 by itself not only did all those things, but it then beat me with the unbridaled passion of a hate crime to the brink of death and left me for dead in the middle of the New Mexico desert. Luckily, I managed to regain enough strength to hitchhike my way back to Albuquerque by giving handjobs to truckers. Figurative truckers. God that's disgusting.
To conclude, have you ever been at home alone picking your nose when you get ahold of one that goes so deep that it feels like you're pulling repressed memories out of your subconcious?
Also, I saw Mickey Rooney in the audience of the Academy Awards and I think he may need to be put down. It's just not fair to the rest of us. He's just hanging on, and it's sad. He looks like a partially melted Mr. Potato-Head that you might find at a garage sale for 25 cents because some kid left it on the radiator overnight.
My posts suck.