roughty, you ran your ass into a tree while trying to wrangle an errant throw from mr stoney. you went all out — ultimate athleticism. you crashed like evil knevil — faulty. hahaha. even the wanna-be-cool-100-dollar-shirt-wearing-barely-able-to-pay-their-rent-venice-beach fuck-o-ramas couldn’t even bring themselves to laugh at you. if i had a video camera, your ass would be the toast of youtube right now. it would look like this:
youtube=roughty_destroying_his_own_self
(not a real link, dummies.)
“yeah, so what’s your point, butt-face?” well, i’ll tell you. this blog is composed of the faultimate citizens of the world. faultimate = faulty/ultimate. faulty = broken or malfunctioning in some or another wise. ultimate = to the maximum extremity of extremocity; not to be surpassed.
sorry that roughty was my poster-child for this description. but before you dickfaces start thinking that you’re not included, don’t worry. you are. i will, forthwith, mention an individual case of your ultimateness and your faultiness — depicted in convenient bite-size stories. i will, of course, include myself, (so danny boy doesn’t have to cry his way to another blog waling, “man, why does everybody have to be so meeeeaaaaannn to me?!”).
stoney, you ass, you were the hook-up master for a little while. you remember? oh yeah. (sorry t.) freshman year, them girls wanted the junk. all it took was one drop of andy roddick’s name, and they came circling about you like so many earring dangling, flashy belt wearing turkey buzzards. let’s all face it. they wanted your johnson… all over them. that, my friend, is ultimate! however, let us not forget to mention the inauspicious occasions. desparation and milwaukee’s best light led to some funny funny situations. how can we forget the ripped jeans girl?! we can’t. she was a laughingstock even before she came crashing to the floor from falling the fuck off robbie mcketta’s bunk! how about that other girl? … the skinny blonde girl with the really pointy nose… you know who i mean. fucking terrible. she was like greg higgins’ girl-piece tina except without the talent and classic beauty. that, sir, is faulty. again demonstrating that this blog is peopled by the faultimate of society. best game, worst scores, stoney. pat yourself on the back, and then give yourself a swirly, you loser.
dankkkkkkkkk, in lieu of a story, i’ll include an image that should say it all. extremely ultimately fucked the fuck up.
yeah, dankkkkkkkkk. faultimate to deff, yo. some people just go insane, but you went ultimately nutso. i can remember stoney giggling, “yo, dankkkk’s craaaazy.” haha. dank, you’re in. the blog was meant for crazy ass psychos like you. enjoy grad school. don’t worry, though. you already saw the local nut-house, and you’re already on the waiting list, so no worries.
tre — (no longer present but worthy of mentioning) some people just skip work. he went on the missing person’s list for like days and days, and his dad came into pet world crying, asking me, “is my son on drugs?!” tre — faultimate. (what’s the etiquette on shittalking somebody who never reads this anymore? sorry, tre. my bad. not deleting it, though.)
drew — do i even have to start? this guy belonged here from the word “go.” blowing lines like it was going out of style and simultaneously intimidating us to pay him 8o bills for a half-g?! faultimate. you’re in, you big nazi-ass mutherfuck.
twitch, i don’t know you like talking about it, so i cannot declare you faultimate. i will assume, though, that you must be. you were friends with stoney, and that alone qualifies you for faultimate status in my book at least. congratulations. you’re among the best of the worst.
stoney’s little shit for brains brother (haganav) — freshman year… yates… fast forward four years… smoking weed in amsterdam… need i say more? no. i needn’t. we’ll be here to welcome you back with open arms when you get extradited back to the usa. (or would that be intradited?)
and last but not least, suityourself. there are so many examples, i don’t know where to begin. robbing the channannello’s for like 350-400 beezies at age 15, eluding the vbpd, only to get hemmed up by my best friend’s parents and made to wash their shitty-ass cars the next day as pennance. kept the money, though. stealing cigarettes and then having a panic attack (my very first one, the start of a long and illustrious friendship) and thinking my heart was going to explode after my first nicotene buzzzz. hitting some guy in the football game so hard he broke some bone and had to get ambulanced away and then, the next day, passing out from a concussion into my salad bowl at the golden corral. these are just a smattering of my faultimate moments. i think i deserve to be among you guys. you’re not wastes of space. you’re ultimate wastes of space. congratulations. let the fantastically worthless blogistry continue uninteruptus.
keep going big. after all, it’s better to burn out than to fade away…
my my hey hey
(wenska’s evil twin.)
Stoney Wage Slave 