The Halton Hillbilly
My head is doing figure eights to this insane Unkle beat that is blastin' out of these phallic speakers of mine. Yes.. they look like dildos - SO WHAT!? ahem.. s'yah pretty bleh day of work, I dropkicked a box for fun at the end of the day.
So what's new with moiiii? Wehell, to explain the peculiar title of this blog, I recently purchased a bb/pellet gun from Canadian tire. Why, you say? Well my dad was like "James, If I buy you a bb gun will you scare off or get rid of the pidgeons?" and I was like "uhh, why the heck not!". I felt like a Texan carrying around the rifle in Canadian tire - it was awesome lol. It's pretty sweet though, has a scope and everything. Curtis and I had fun sniping beer bottles and oranges. I tried "scaring" off the pidgeons, but they really didn't care about having little bits of lead fly by their face, or into their feathers. I did hit one.. which I felt bad about afterwards.. but at least it gave the kittens a meal.
Gah! my desk is a web of wires and cables, and fuck! the damn speaker cord keeps coming out! There we go, muchos betteros.
for you own amusement, here's my york short story dealy - tell me what you think:
read it in thick London accents:
~ The Pantaloons ~
A Quick Tale By: James Harris
"By George these pants are tight!" said the fat man in a somewhat incomprehensible cockney slang. "Perhaps sir you would try a size 12?" replied the impatient clerk. "But I like them ‘toight’, they accentuate my hidden muscularities!" retorted the flabby jowls of the corpulent one. Gagging at the sight, the clerk replied "ahem.. Well then.. So be it.. That’ll be sixty pounds." The fat man furrowed his brow in a great buttock-like crease, "Sixty pounds you say?”. The clerk motioned towards the pantaloons, "Check the price tag if you like, nowadays the tighter and shinier you go, the more expensive the pantaloons". "What material is this?" questioned the large man in an exhaustive sigh. "Oh.. just some sort of rare polymer thread imported from Indonesia...” The big man raised an eyebrow, inspecting the tag. "Hmm.. What’s this text here say?" - "Highly flamma- ahem, ‘highly flamboyant and flattering’, ‘and should not come in contact with waterrrrssonville’”. “Watersonville?” asked the fat one, “Yes they’re prohibited there " sneered the clerk. "Hmmph. Peculiar.. Alright, I'll take them.” said the fat man, handing over a wad of cash. "Of course you will!" grinned the clerk mischievously. The large man exited the shop and began lighting his pipe. A tiny spark of ash drifted from the pipe and onto his thigh, setting the pantaloons immediately ablaze. “YOOOW!” In a trot, the flaming man bounded into the nearest source of water - a large fountain, amidst tables of aristocrats sipping tea. The splash was enormous, spraying water over the many tight pantaloons of nearby folk. Amongst gasps of awe, a top-hatted man screamed out "Dear lord! That fat man was on fire! Oh my! M-m-my pantaloons are SHRINKINGGGG!”
aright, because this room is cold, and I have to start working some more on my essay - I'm stopping here.
ciao,
J-ethro-ames
So what's new with moiiii? Wehell, to explain the peculiar title of this blog, I recently purchased a bb/pellet gun from Canadian tire. Why, you say? Well my dad was like "James, If I buy you a bb gun will you scare off or get rid of the pidgeons?" and I was like "uhh, why the heck not!". I felt like a Texan carrying around the rifle in Canadian tire - it was awesome lol. It's pretty sweet though, has a scope and everything. Curtis and I had fun sniping beer bottles and oranges. I tried "scaring" off the pidgeons, but they really didn't care about having little bits of lead fly by their face, or into their feathers. I did hit one.. which I felt bad about afterwards.. but at least it gave the kittens a meal.
Gah! my desk is a web of wires and cables, and fuck! the damn speaker cord keeps coming out! There we go, muchos betteros.
for you own amusement, here's my york short story dealy - tell me what you think:
read it in thick London accents:
~ The Pantaloons ~
A Quick Tale By: James Harris
"By George these pants are tight!" said the fat man in a somewhat incomprehensible cockney slang. "Perhaps sir you would try a size 12?" replied the impatient clerk. "But I like them ‘toight’, they accentuate my hidden muscularities!" retorted the flabby jowls of the corpulent one. Gagging at the sight, the clerk replied "ahem.. Well then.. So be it.. That’ll be sixty pounds." The fat man furrowed his brow in a great buttock-like crease, "Sixty pounds you say?”. The clerk motioned towards the pantaloons, "Check the price tag if you like, nowadays the tighter and shinier you go, the more expensive the pantaloons". "What material is this?" questioned the large man in an exhaustive sigh. "Oh.. just some sort of rare polymer thread imported from Indonesia...” The big man raised an eyebrow, inspecting the tag. "Hmm.. What’s this text here say?" - "Highly flamma- ahem, ‘highly flamboyant and flattering’, ‘and should not come in contact with waterrrrssonville’”. “Watersonville?” asked the fat one, “Yes they’re prohibited there " sneered the clerk. "Hmmph. Peculiar.. Alright, I'll take them.” said the fat man, handing over a wad of cash. "Of course you will!" grinned the clerk mischievously. The large man exited the shop and began lighting his pipe. A tiny spark of ash drifted from the pipe and onto his thigh, setting the pantaloons immediately ablaze. “YOOOW!” In a trot, the flaming man bounded into the nearest source of water - a large fountain, amidst tables of aristocrats sipping tea. The splash was enormous, spraying water over the many tight pantaloons of nearby folk. Amongst gasps of awe, a top-hatted man screamed out "Dear lord! That fat man was on fire! Oh my! M-m-my pantaloons are SHRINKINGGGG!”
aright, because this room is cold, and I have to start working some more on my essay - I'm stopping here.
ciao,
J-ethro-ames
posted by J-kash at 2:44 PM
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