As the clock notched over a minute past midnight, my numerical stats were padded once again within the walls of a bar. Stake your knot that my birthday has creeped it's first moments in a bar for at least the last ten years. Confirmations will be made with the alien documentarians of my lifeline after they finally suck me off this planet to begin the Zygarian National Imagecast talkshow circuit. I don't know what they are fucking waiting for. Pretty soon I'm gonna start living a pablum life to bore you asteroid bastards. Cancel the show and escort my ass to the pleasure planet for retirement now cheesedammit.

Still spurned the advances of mistress distillery. Cunning temptress. Sporting those sparkly rocks swimming in your tantalising body. Dost thou wish me ill? Makin my liver quiver. Fair maiden, I will lap at your feet soon. Tease me not. I'm doing this for us baby.

Still whoring around with the hoodrat chica cheeba. She got the viscious swerve in her stroke. All wrapped up tight in her white paper miniskirt. I gots to get in those nugs. Nice and spliffed. I'll always sniff around your pungent street greens. Gonna chase Mary Jane, cause deep down I want a gangsta bitch.

I have bipolar patience. Easily able to amuse myself in my internal spank world. Always early for whatever. Completely calm when waiting for my plane to board, ignoring the projected advertisements slouching in my perfectly selected theater seat, or chillin in the waiting room ( Oooo oooo Fugazi moment, Fugazi moment! ) of my optometrist's office. When I'm on a mission though, delays grind the teeth. The posse I was hangin with last night are a bunch of Shaggy's when they get stoned. Easily distracted. Pedestrian lifestyle is no joke to me. You pick a destination and then you move your feet expeditiously. Stopped for fifteen minutes ruminating on a discarded Hostess display. After the third interruption in movement, I just trodded on ahead. Grrrrrrrr, giddy up ya pregnant yaks!

Plus if you scribble your name in chalk to play pool, I take that to mean you would like to play pool. So end the oratory and shoot some stick. Please, freely chat away while I'm sinkin balls. But, hello, its your turn, end the fucking story and shoot. And then you wonder why steam blasts from my collar when you ask if your solids or stripes. Pay attention and end your re-enactment of My Dinner With Andre.

Patience is a rare commodity on the depressed spank market. Wasting spanky's patience will cost you dearly. You do want children someday, yes?

Extreme happy moment was clownin the entire lineup of Euro visitors on the table. From what they were speaking I think they were Polish. They must have came from the folicle province of Poland, cause holy handgrenade they possessed most of the hair. Boys and girls alike, all with an abundance of hair. Maybe this is the age of aquarius. And, even though I put a heavy rotation of music on the juke before they arrived at Mona's, I should take some responsibilty for the misplaced club gyrations that erupted from their bodies when Kraftwerk and Public Enemy came on.

Stuck in the middle. Deeply implanted in this depression. Hadn't quite pissed me off till I was on my back reliving the events of the night in lieu of failing sleep. Sex drive is tanked from this shit so much so that invitations into women's worlds are being sluffed off. Pulled a few leg hairs off for that one. Fucking downer endochrine squirtings. Cycle on out of here already. I personally am satisfied with the amount of misery you have dispensed thus far. Fuck.

Welp, seems as if its time to face the spanking machine. Thirty one licks. Thirty one kids, I love getting older, means I'm that much closer to livin my dirty old man life. Ahhhhhh, dirty old spanky. C'mere nurse, poppy needs his pills and to pinch your heiny. Nyah haw haw haw.