Hey, hey, we don’t gotta be no gov’t official no mo!


The day we were born they delicately perched a Christmas tree atop BryanLGH. It basked in the luminous projection of the heli-pad reciprocating with its beautiful string of multi-colored glory. There was something about that tree that signaled that destiny was, immanently, going to puke. That lady fame herself might become nauseous as a result of the efforts of mere mortals was, in fact, unthinkable and often laughable especially among scholars of fortune (Jones and Johnson, Journal of Scholarly Tellers of Fortune and Banks, Nov. 5 1425). However, the two whose birth was heralded by the transcendent tree managed to do just that. Although there has been but spittle thus far oozing from the crimson lips of the destining damsel, it is clear to anyone who has witnessed a performance that a most righteous hurl will, by the grace of god, spew forth from her anxious belly.

Come see the magic. Come see the fun. Go home feeling like dying. Or don't go home at all. 😉 Srzly, sizzlin, that's shit's sanitary, man, all of a sudden it's like just like a "fuckin' a, man!" you gotta have that comma, and dat e-mark, or it's like "fuckin a man", like "I got my car puked on. It was some lady. Her name was "desiree" or something like that." and then you respond, "fuckin' a man" and then ur frndz like "ur fuckin' a man?" and ur lyk "nah, I waz juz playin'. Here dat' punxuashun ,!

Grarvy rnd dr Strmp