The Diarrhea Of Anne Frank.
Peabs, Dr. Bill Cosby and our band of misfits - including Rodney Roo and Bodney Sue, vulvs - will be gallivanting sumptin' truly outrageous in California this weekend. Peabs is my name, no one else is the same, Peabs is my name! Peabs!
But don't fear, oh pleabs of Peabs; I shan't be astray for too long. Barring death, yours effing truly will be back next week. And since it's clear that I don't really give a fuck about updating that often, it shouldn't really appear to be any different than the usual. Well, despite your abnormally overwhelming feeling of exigency, most likely caused by the actuality that your life is rendered fustian sans Peabs. Duhvs. I make everyone's life worth living. Just ask Bodney Sue's mulatto, hermaphroditic partner Spooky Mookie. It would be a downright egregious understatement to say that my gorgeous fucking ass didn't spin his life right 'round, baby right 'round, like a record, baby. Dead or alive, Peabs'll still be Dame Judi Denching my igneous bovsum all over your fucking mantastic mammy-kins, Pete Burns! Muhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Anyhow, Spooky Mookie was once a happy-go-lucky carnie who exclusively traveled with the country's most respected third-rate circus, The Cockface Bros. Flying Ooh-Jah Extravaganza; which was coincidentally headed by my now-head of security, Cockface McJohnson. Wait, coincidence? Who am I kidding? Schmobviously Peabs is making most of this shats boombies up, so it should be boss hogs like Nurse Ratchet that my brosnan rosnan C-Face was involved. Fucking mars bars, yo. Bowwwwwwww!
Needless to say, although Cockface is an exceptional proprietor, even he couldn't control the rather obdurate Mookie. For those of you who didn't know, Mookie went a little bog snorkeling gonzo in 1991 when the seminal reclusive has-been grunge band Pearl Jam chose the jersey number of former basketball wash-out Mookie Blaylock as the title of their debut record. This made my spooky compadre despondent, to say the least. Overnight, suddenly Spooky was the third most famous Mookie in America. Dude shmears indeed.
This led to a downward spiral that makes Trent Reznor look like Daffy Duck all quacked-out on smacky-wacky boo-jah. Mookie upped his hikori intake to a kilo a day, thus making his state of mind significantly mondaine. Mind you, Peabs can handle my peyote with the best of them. Howevs, if you start consuming as much as Spooky on a daily basis, without warning you think your fucking cock is a restless native named Dandy Randy Boo Boo, trying desperately to extirpate from the union that is your hot bod. Isn't that right, Coz?
"Yooooooouuuu seeeeee, me Dizzzzeee think that this is a flazzication of numerous tumorous flizzumations! And your association with the assassination of Haitian nations is both bozzle worthy and flozzum and jetsum like George Jetson!!! Theoooooo!!!"
Peabs sees your point, Cosby. My D™ really does have it's own identity. Shit, it's fucking trademarked for Coz's sake! What was I thinking?
Oh, I know what I was thinking.
This blow really is effing tigs. And that smokin' hot salad tossing you gave me last night? Yup, it's up there with the best asslicking Peabs has received all week. Gobble, gobble!
Oh, and as for Spooky Mookie? All I did was shit on his face and he was fucking cured. Ain't nothing like holistic medicine. I would know; I'm a fucking doctor. Duhvs.
Rub my sack and call me Dad, I'm off to California, you effing handjobs.