Before China down, I was contemplating what level of ease my body would squeeze enough through the taxi partition to smack the cabbie around. Poor driving on my dime is more than enough excuse for an ass whuppin. Ass whuppin, ass whuppin, ass whuppin. Yes, your taxicab is constructed out of pasted together antique Wodehouse porcelean and Faberge eggs, please drive like grandmothers fuck so as not to ruin it's pristine beauty. I'd like to install shock absorbers in your rectum oh sheep herder.

Before wanting to install shock absorbers in rectums, I was chillin with the homies. Still surfing on a cloud of green smoke. Still peaking. Ah Amsterdamski weit, me love you long time. I suckie suckie. Debating what ripples in my universe would occur if I decided that I wanted to get naked with one particular person in my posse. Minimal pussy restraints are needed in most cases. Sharing bodily fluids with reckless abandon not always a good choice. Force the blood flow to go to my northern brain, make decent rational decisions. Drama quotients low.

Before making supposed decent rational decisions, I was having Thai mouthgasms. Yum Pla Muk ( speecy spicy hot chili sauced squid salad ) and Pla Jean ( seared salmon ) were shoveled in. Thai food excellent. I love the way my nose itches and my lips tingle bright crimson when I eat cuisine on the high end of Scoville units. Thai chicks are yummy as well. Miniture vessels of squirty pleasure. I'd like to eat Pad Thai off her button butt.

Before fantasing about eating Pad Thai off her button butt, I had a chance encounter with a chick who has been subjugated from the posse. Hangin with what appeared to be her new Latin lover. Out of work again she is. Before I knew it I was dispensing a hot tip. Directly after telling her about a possible bartending gig at Mickey's Blue Room, I thought about the drama quotient thing once again. Her and another maniac from previously mentioned posse started boning. They stopped boning. We frequent the Blue Room. Whatever. Always highly beneficial having a friend commandeering the booze bottles. Rethunk it, twas a true and in the right thing to mention.

Before mentioning the true and right thing, I was taking in the splendor of Thompson Square Park's dog run. Crazy creamy weather again. Just sparked up and feeling all spunky for the fresh lovely air. Great pinecones of insanity, the amounts of cuties in my hood has exponentially risen by the day. A tall slender Black chick tried to pick me up. I don't do tall and bony. Often have gangplank flipper feet. Often deficient in proper lascivious body curvature. Often zero fun in bed. Often have massive gaping unmuscular canyons residing between their legs. So, always I hunt after the roundy shorties. Roundy shorties always more fun, and even more so if they're crazy. By the way this means that models suck, and not the good suck. Mmmmmmmm crazy roundy shorties. Drool.

Before drooling, I was entertained by the fevered barking commotion that erupted near the dog run gate. Dogs hate wheels. They despise skateboards, bicycles, baby carriages, in line skates, and especially dogs with ineffectual hind quarters making it necessary that they have a sort of doggie wheelchair contraption strapped to them. Crotchety old mutt too. Near vicious teeth baring din. It must be the imperceptable to human ears squeek that the wheel gears make. Possible that canines dislike cripples within their genus. Wished I had healing hands to reknit the dog's bones, and reinvigorate all the nerve endings and atrophied muscles. If I had said healing hands, all you humans can eat a pooburger. I like the herd thin babies.

Before liking the thin herd, I was smokin it up boss. Trusty bowl packed with purple haired madness. Stuff tastes like jasmine. Jasmine. Lit some lime tree incense to mix the smoky flavors. Fan arrangement that I have set up in the crib keeps a constant whirling force circulating a jet stream throughout my modest square footage. Wonder which neighbor gets the most nose full. Hopefully its the little animals who screech up and down the connecting stairwell. Grubby little noise makers, when I need to wake the dead I'll twist your ears off. Seal the face now! I can see why you'd want a flock of these little darlings.

Before seeing why you'd want a flock of those little darlings, I was shooting a load on the bathroom tile. Money shot right near the tub faucet. Before waking up this afternoon I had an endless stream of porn dreams. It amazes me that I no longer have wet dreams. My ridiculous imagination teeters on psychedlic realism in all realms of the senses. Rustle from the sheets diving board poking through. My dick was under the belief that it had been surrounded by sweet and wet sugar walls for a couple of hours. Needed immediate professional attention. Luckily I possess professional fingers and palms. Did the double dutch while cool water rivuleted down my back.

Damn I love that Netherland weed.