So I realized that I'm a pretty useless human being,
Incapable of responsibility,
And instead of creating new content for you to enjoy,
I'm going to watch Dexter and waste endless hours on Music Maze.
Both of which are pretty awesome,
I'm sorry, you just can't compete.
But on the bright side, you looked great today in that new t-shirt.
(Totally just freaked some guy with a new t-shirt out)
Bare with me, but I definitely just thought of a great idea for a movie.
TIME KILLERS 3: NO TIME
First of all there are no previous "Time Killer" movies, there's a 3 because it lowers the audience's expectation for the cinematic feature. Much like how Vonnegut titled his novel Slaughterhouse Over 9000 in order to catch everyone off guard, they will assume it's a shitty sequel at best with D-rated celebrities or something... But shit will be cash, trust me.
Alright so the movie begins with Arnold Schwarzenegger (and I'm not talking about that pansy current Schwarzenegger, I mean bad-ass, leather jacket wearing, sawed off toting, Terminator 2 Schwarzenegger) sitting on a couch, waiting for god damn Deal or No Deal to end so he can watch something decent. WHEN SUDDENLY, he gets incredibly bored. He needs to KILL some time.
I'm sure you can visualize the awe inspiring scenes that could come of this. Intense action sequences filled with explosives coming out of every orifice, and Betty White narrating the entire thing. I'd pay several dollars to see such a thing.
Also Markie Mark will be in there somewhere because everybody loves Markie Mark.
So it has come to my attention that I make grammatical errors quite frequently. If you don't like it, begin liking it for I don't intend on typing these blogs in word before hand. That would take time, and perhaps it is time for time to stop two-timing and work around my schedule. You've probably realized that the only extra effort it'd take myself to fix such errors would be copy-pasting, but my ctrl button is very far in the corner of the keyboard.
On another note, I would greatly appreciate becoming a personal associate's best friend forever. In order to save time we'll call him J.T. Now J.T. is one in at least 8999, and he's an amazing lad. The kid taught himself karate and thoroughly put my Crane Style to shame with one well placed kidney punch. I urinated a red-tinged stream for 3 or 4 days afterward. Also, J.T. is the brother of Quasimodo and I know that you'll immediately shriek of the impossibility of such a subject, but I digress. His sister is not the actual Quasimodo, rather a spot on counterpart to the near mythical character.
Ms. J.T. or Quasimodo may be one of the most hideous creatures this side of the Mississippi, but I know what I have to do. I have to marry Quasimodo in order to become J.T.'s obligatory best friend forever. The plan goes something like this...
Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Patrick, my hobbies include long walks on the beach and romantic candlelit dinners. Though I could go on to bore you with should trivialities, but I refrain for I recall many an occasion where those I had just met found themselves drifting in thought as I rambled on about the precipitation (or rather lack thereof for I reside in Arizona). Now living in Arizona presents quite the difficulties, mainly because you have to keep on the constant look out for lynchings. She be a cruel land, but one that hold a bounty of life...
Several years ago when I was a wee lad in the prime of my youth I was quite the little hoodlum. I'd scour the city for opportunities to create mischief like dinging doorbells and fleeing promptly. However, when I left the door of my humble abode one evening a felt an unsettling stir in the pit of my stomach. Recklessly, I put one foot in front of the other and set out into that brave new world and sought out that half-frightened intense feeling. I thrust my earbuds into my pinnas, and proceeded with my journey into unknown territory.
I had just arrived at the destination of my mile long trek. "SAFEWAY" read the illuminated fixture above. My leisurely walk of Big Lebowski status assured the employees that I was a pretty chill bro and was here on official business. My mindless wander through the maze of isles ended with my eyes pinned with an intense force on the gum in the checkout lines. The explosion of Juicy Fruit in my mouth made my heart melt and knees quake. Mission accomplished... or so it seemed.
The doors opened for me on my way out of the stale-aired store as if I were a god among men. The god of doors. (I later had an internal conversation with myself pertaining to the possibility of a door god). As I rounded the corner in return to my peaceful home where I could find refuge from the frightening world in the web, three large Hispanic men appeared suddenly and violently. They immediately provoked me, calling me holmes and what-not. However, I showed no fear, I knew what I had to do. Acting quickly, I relaxed and calmly analyzed my surroundings and saw my escape. With a heavy swing, I threw my body into a mighty kick of Almighty Thor's envy landing directly into its intended target, the groin of the largest goon. He fell to the ground with a thud and an exasperated wheeze. His cronies tended to him as I continued my route home.
I hurriedly made pace home in desperate need for my safe haven. The ruthless thugs calling me "Que Pasa" and "ese" would surely stop at nothing to end my life. If I only knew some Spanish I could have defused the situation, but alas I took American Sign Language instead and could surely thwart any gang of deaf bullies. Passing the community park, I neared my sparkling house at the end of the perilous road. Then as I stepped onto the my driveway, I was actually Willy Wonka the entire time.