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Jett Superior laid this on you on || August 23, 2003 || 4:22 pm

My spouse is cookin’ up a fresh batch of homebrew: Oatmeal Stout, supposedly a “smoother, better, heavenly-mouth-feel stout, creamy in nature and there’s about a halfa pounda oats innit.” (I would link HIS quote, but Maxim has not a blog, nor any interest in one, even though I try to tell him that there’s all kinds of self-affirmation and free boobies involved. He just rolls his eyes.)

This is my cue to flee, because the sickly burnt-hops smell makes me want to hurl each and every time.

I’ll be back later with a strangely-related story containing sputtering ire and creative swear-type words. In it, I get to be righteously indignant in the face of another parent’s muted righteous indignation and sneaky coward-tactics.

Just wait till I see that bitch.

3 worked it out »

  1. Joe 8.24.2003

    I want to come over and drink when he’s got a nice fresh batch to offer. I love stout more than Jesus. Then again, I like snikers bars more than Bob Hope. I think I’m fixated on the dead today for some reason.

     
  2. James 8.24.2003

    Hey!! I’m missing out on free boobies?!!?

     
  3. Jett 8.24.2003

    James, d00d, I get the boobies alla time…you mean you DON’T?

    Joe…honey, you should never compare ANYthing to your love of Jesus; I was under the impression that you weren’t too fond of him overmuch. And don’t worry about being fixated on the dead…melly ADORES necrophiliac clown pr0n and I think the WORLD of that girl.

     

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