A local shower curtain in a 4 bedroom split level family home supposedly "sees it all, on the daily". The visually unpretentious mono-colored shower drape hangs quite dutifully by its stainless hooks, day after day; executing its intended water-isolating capacity.
Washroom occupants would scarcely imagine the turmoil of tawdry thoughts and passions that continually rage within the inanimate drape. Good taste requires that we omit much of our conversation with the lewd curtain, who proudly vaunted its delinquent activities without reserve:
"...I've seen packages and goodies of all shapes and sizes, man. I've seen frontal goodies, and totally soaking back goodies, and big goodies, and petite goodies; waxed goodies and voluptuous goodies. It's like, damn! Every day for me, man. Every day."
One of our news crewmen was more than a little upset when he discovered the curtain's truly seedy intentions. Said newsman exposed his "full frontal goodies" in a routine lizard draining not 10 minutes before the interview started. "I'd have found a decent bush out back if I'd known," he timidly admitted.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Butterfly Shits On Rosebud; Could Care Less
A butterfly took a gratuitous dump on the lip of a pristine full-blossomed Alba Semiplena (common white rose) yesterday morning.
The miniscule brown clump of refuse, albeit very, very small, was clearly visible to all passerby's and other chance admirers of the regal bloom.
"Apparently the passing butterfly just didn't give a damn," said botanist and professional green-thumb Julia R. Rosenthal, "it likely pinched it's tiny payload and just flew off without a second thought."
"Stopping to smell the roses is one thing, impromptu shit bombing is quite another," added Rosenthal. We agree.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Disney-Empolyed Pirate Impersonator Passes Gas, Feels Relieved
Unwanted bowel pressure suffered a small defeat today when 54 year old actor and Disney-employed pirate impersonator Richard Kassek involuntarily passed gas on the set of Disney World's latest tourist phenomenon "Pirates, A True Adventure".
"I were a-standin' by me-self, oh, say 30-40 man's feet up the main mast pole, abreast of the starboard riggin's, when the jumbly-rumbly in my deepest vitals worsened," drawls Kassek. "That'll be the very last time I eats at that bastard Alberto's street-side taco wagon on the way to work, says I; especially if it f--k's up me intestines as badly as they're f--ked today, byarrrrrrr!"
First Mate Kassek counts his lucky north stars that he was "a-standin" (as he puts it) by himself so high off the ground, away from spectators and fellow cast members. "T'were an utterly unholy brew that was billowing and a'boilin' in my bunkers all morning. Damn near sh*t me breeches twice during the taxing climb up the port-side rope nets. Thank Jesus, Lord of the Sinners that 'twere only wind I were breaking and not me tattered rectum."
Kassek reportedly felt much better after expelling the menacing flatus—good enough to last until lunch time when he visited the nearest park restroom and, according to his own narrative, "Destroyed that son-of-a-b*tch." In parting, Kassek re-affirmed his earlier declaration that he would never again eat at Alberto's street-side taco stand (no matter how late for work or hungry he may be), and emphatically urged us to do likewise.
"I were a-standin' by me-self, oh, say 30-40 man's feet up the main mast pole, abreast of the starboard riggin's, when the jumbly-rumbly in my deepest vitals worsened," drawls Kassek. "That'll be the very last time I eats at that bastard Alberto's street-side taco wagon on the way to work, says I; especially if it f--k's up me intestines as badly as they're f--ked today, byarrrrrrr!"
First Mate Kassek counts his lucky north stars that he was "a-standin" (as he puts it) by himself so high off the ground, away from spectators and fellow cast members. "T'were an utterly unholy brew that was billowing and a'boilin' in my bunkers all morning. Damn near sh*t me breeches twice during the taxing climb up the port-side rope nets. Thank Jesus, Lord of the Sinners that 'twere only wind I were breaking and not me tattered rectum."
Kassek reportedly felt much better after expelling the menacing flatus—good enough to last until lunch time when he visited the nearest park restroom and, according to his own narrative, "Destroyed that son-of-a-b*tch." In parting, Kassek re-affirmed his earlier declaration that he would never again eat at Alberto's street-side taco stand (no matter how late for work or hungry he may be), and emphatically urged us to do likewise.
Convicted Sex Offender Enjoys Sudoku, Taking Advantage Of Small Boys
"There's really something about this little Japanese wonder," says Dick Davies enthusiastically as he impatiently scribbles digits in each little black box.
"I say 'Japanese Wonder', but the original concept for these intriguing number conundrums dates back to French periodicals of the late 19th century. The modern version of Sudoku was adapted by an American freelance puzzle designer around the 1980's and later introduced into Japan, where the puzzles garnered nation-wide popularity--which in turn instigated the current American sudoku craze," adds Davies, in a knowledgeable tone.
Mr. Davies apparently completes 4-7 puzzles daily on average. The convicted felon concluded the interview by stating matter-of-factly: "I used to wonder why people were so nuts about Sudoku. Not anymore!"
"I say 'Japanese Wonder', but the original concept for these intriguing number conundrums dates back to French periodicals of the late 19th century. The modern version of Sudoku was adapted by an American freelance puzzle designer around the 1980's and later introduced into Japan, where the puzzles garnered nation-wide popularity--which in turn instigated the current American sudoku craze," adds Davies, in a knowledgeable tone.
Mr. Davies apparently completes 4-7 puzzles daily on average. The convicted felon concluded the interview by stating matter-of-factly: "I used to wonder why people were so nuts about Sudoku. Not anymore!"
Woman Bakes Rabbit Dropping Cookies; Curiosity Finally Satisfied
Single mother of two and avid cooking enthusiast Mary Keller satisfied one of her greatest curiosities yesterday evening when both of her young sons ate rabbit dropping cookies.
"I don't know," said Keller, "it's just one of those things. Like when you're driving down the freeway and you have those fleeing thoughts about what would happen if you jerked your steering wheel hard to the left and careened your SUV into oncoming traffic. I'm just glad that for once I got to see what would happen...with the cookies, I mean."
The experiment played out mostly according to plan. "I pilfered a few handfuls of fresh pellets from our rabbit cage and poured them into a batch of cookie dough. Forty-five minutes later the cookies were ready. I sat my boys down with three cookies each to start and delicious ice-cold mugs of extra creamy vitamin D milk," says Keller.
The youngsters ate three apiece and then some. In fact, as of today at 4 o'clock, only two cookies remain from a batch of twenty-four, "And you know I sure as shit didn't have any," affirms Keller. The inquisitive soccer mom told us that, "Young boys will eat cookies with rabbit stool substituted for chocolate chips. They really will."
Keller offered us a glass of refreshing lemonade during our interview which we politely declined. It was a nice gesture at any rate, considering today's unusually calid weather.
"I don't know," said Keller, "it's just one of those things. Like when you're driving down the freeway and you have those fleeing thoughts about what would happen if you jerked your steering wheel hard to the left and careened your SUV into oncoming traffic. I'm just glad that for once I got to see what would happen...with the cookies, I mean."
The experiment played out mostly according to plan. "I pilfered a few handfuls of fresh pellets from our rabbit cage and poured them into a batch of cookie dough. Forty-five minutes later the cookies were ready. I sat my boys down with three cookies each to start and delicious ice-cold mugs of extra creamy vitamin D milk," says Keller.
The youngsters ate three apiece and then some. In fact, as of today at 4 o'clock, only two cookies remain from a batch of twenty-four, "And you know I sure as shit didn't have any," affirms Keller. The inquisitive soccer mom told us that, "Young boys will eat cookies with rabbit stool substituted for chocolate chips. They really will."
Keller offered us a glass of refreshing lemonade during our interview which we politely declined. It was a nice gesture at any rate, considering today's unusually calid weather.
Kindergarten Hunchback Clinches 5th Consecutive Somersault Competition Title; Prompts Immediate Regulation Change
Little Bobby Johnston, a horribly disfigured hunchback and Kindergarten student of Boston, Massachusetts, exhibited an episode of premature elation this Tuesday on the playground at Ben Franklin Elementary School. Johnston undoubtedly felt entitled to a bit of youthful boasting after his crushing defeat of all worthy contenders in the fifth consecutive somersault competition which involved over 12 competitors and spanned two separate recess breaks.
Bobby's undeniable dominance was cut short, however, when a majority of the group expressed desires to alter the rules and regulations of the event. Specifics are not available at this time, but the new competition code has effectively eliminated Bobby's chances at any future participation.
Rumors of exclusions based on last names starting with J have surfaced (and have been given due weight since J is the Kindergarten class' letter of the week), while many insiders openly admit that Bobby's severe spinal disorder may be the real determining factor; not only in his amazing ability to roll vertically like a truck tire, but also in the subsequent rule changes.
For now, Bobby seems quite content to fly his lunch pail around the tetherball courts and stick small bits of playground gravel in his nasal cavities. His future as a somersault aficionado remains at best, uncertain.
"Discharge" Holds Permanent STD Connotation For Portland Area Auto Claims Adjuster
Jack P. Barnes, a rookie Auto Insurance Claims Adjuster working for State Farm of Portland OR, indefinitely associates the word "discharge" with sexually transmitted diseases or STD's.
"'Discharge... discharge... discharge", repeates Jack, as though he were evaluating a pair of dress shoes for proper fit, "...doesn't matter how many times I say it, STD's pop into my head. I thought of Chlamydia, Syphilis, and Penile Rash just now. Seriously."
We mentioned "Honorable Discharge", hoping to coax Banres' thought patterns in a new direction. The exercise had little or no positive effect. "It's useless," said Barnes, "Even though an honorable discharge is a pretty good thing, I can't stop thinking about Genital Warts. Not only that, but somehow the word 'honorable' was replaced by 'malodorous' just now in my mind. Sick."
Upon wrapping up our brief chat with Mr. Barnes, we were left to wonder how many former high school health class students have similar issues with the word "discharge". Truthfully, it's hard to hear that word at this point without picturing a horrible case of Scabies. Seriously.
"'Discharge... discharge... discharge", repeates Jack, as though he were evaluating a pair of dress shoes for proper fit, "...doesn't matter how many times I say it, STD's pop into my head. I thought of Chlamydia, Syphilis, and Penile Rash just now. Seriously."
We mentioned "Honorable Discharge", hoping to coax Banres' thought patterns in a new direction. The exercise had little or no positive effect. "It's useless," said Barnes, "Even though an honorable discharge is a pretty good thing, I can't stop thinking about Genital Warts. Not only that, but somehow the word 'honorable' was replaced by 'malodorous' just now in my mind. Sick."
Upon wrapping up our brief chat with Mr. Barnes, we were left to wonder how many former high school health class students have similar issues with the word "discharge". Truthfully, it's hard to hear that word at this point without picturing a horrible case of Scabies. Seriously.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Semi-Famous Clown Leaves Surprisingly Depressing Suicide Note
Clunky the Clown, of The West Wilham Wonders Show in Reno, Nevada, was found dead in his trailer at 6:45 AM Tuesday morning, according to the local law enforcement agency. Suicide was confirmed as the ultimate cause of death shortly after the clown's body was discovered.
Authorities found a suicide note on the deceased entertainer's corpse which was addressed to the entire circus staff and the world at large. Many of Clunky's fellow performers expressed dismay at the overly dismal tone of the note.
"I think Clunky could have done much better in his final hour," says Farts, a fellow silly clown and long time work partner, "The note doesn't squirt water, it doesn't buzz your hand when you touch it, it's not folded into any wacky animal shapes, and it doesn't make any honking noises. It's a real drag."
"I didn't laugh once while they were reading it out loud to the staff. No one did. In fact, the note was filled with evidences of manic depression, possibly stemming from unresolved childhood issues with abuse and neglect. Clunky definitely had some baggage," said a female contortionist and somewhat friend of Clunky's.
The circus will continue its prescribed show routine as usual, but will start with a moment of silence tonight in honor of Clunky.
Authorities found a suicide note on the deceased entertainer's corpse which was addressed to the entire circus staff and the world at large. Many of Clunky's fellow performers expressed dismay at the overly dismal tone of the note.
"I think Clunky could have done much better in his final hour," says Farts, a fellow silly clown and long time work partner, "The note doesn't squirt water, it doesn't buzz your hand when you touch it, it's not folded into any wacky animal shapes, and it doesn't make any honking noises. It's a real drag."
"I didn't laugh once while they were reading it out loud to the staff. No one did. In fact, the note was filled with evidences of manic depression, possibly stemming from unresolved childhood issues with abuse and neglect. Clunky definitely had some baggage," said a female contortionist and somewhat friend of Clunky's.
The circus will continue its prescribed show routine as usual, but will start with a moment of silence tonight in honor of Clunky.
Housewife's Plastic Grocery Bag Stash Represents Borderline Manic Behavior
A housewife added yet another plastic grocery bag to the compartment under the kitchen sink today, bringing the under-the-sink plastic grocery bag count to a total of 344 (or thereabouts) safeguarded sacks.
The sacks are useful for just about nothing, admits the young housewife, but she simply can't bring herself to throw them out. "You never know when you might unexpectedly dip into the secreted sack cache," quips the spritely homemaker, "You can replace the lavatory rubbish bin liner in a snap, or grab a more-than-adequate tote for returning borrowed tupperware."
The grocery bags have been misused on a few occasions that the housewife would like to quietly forget; once when her eldest son used a Goodwill bag as impromptu "wrapping paper" to gift a set of plastic kazoos at a snobbish neighbor boy's ritzy birthday celebration and pool party, and a handful of infuriating instances when an undiscovered lackadaisical family member has nonchalantly substituted the proper kitchen waste basket liners for the sub-capacity grocery bags; creating the illusion of correct functionality by stretching the mouth of the bag over the circumference of the can's opening. The impostor bag of course sinks directly to the bottom of the voluminous kitchen waste bin when the first good hunk of trash is thrown in; consequently making the emptying process much more difficult (and probably requiring a waste-basket cleansing afterwards).
The housewife readily attributes the borderline manic behavior to her mother's own grocery bag saving habits, proudly stating that the assiduous sack saving has "probably been going on for generations, or at least since sacks were invented!"
The sacks are useful for just about nothing, admits the young housewife, but she simply can't bring herself to throw them out. "You never know when you might unexpectedly dip into the secreted sack cache," quips the spritely homemaker, "You can replace the lavatory rubbish bin liner in a snap, or grab a more-than-adequate tote for returning borrowed tupperware."
The grocery bags have been misused on a few occasions that the housewife would like to quietly forget; once when her eldest son used a Goodwill bag as impromptu "wrapping paper" to gift a set of plastic kazoos at a snobbish neighbor boy's ritzy birthday celebration and pool party, and a handful of infuriating instances when an undiscovered lackadaisical family member has nonchalantly substituted the proper kitchen waste basket liners for the sub-capacity grocery bags; creating the illusion of correct functionality by stretching the mouth of the bag over the circumference of the can's opening. The impostor bag of course sinks directly to the bottom of the voluminous kitchen waste bin when the first good hunk of trash is thrown in; consequently making the emptying process much more difficult (and probably requiring a waste-basket cleansing afterwards).
The housewife readily attributes the borderline manic behavior to her mother's own grocery bag saving habits, proudly stating that the assiduous sack saving has "probably been going on for generations, or at least since sacks were invented!"
Owl Fails To Make "Hoot" Pun Work In Lousy Five Day Attempt
An Owl's quest for laughs has fallen flat this week in a strained five day attempt to revive a tired old owl-community pun.
Phrases like, "I don't give a hoot", or "Sounds like a real hoot!" fell on seemingly deaf ears as conversations dwindled and happy salutations fizzled.
Eventually the Owl admitted complete abject failure and abandoned the use of such cliche catchphrases in favor of regular communication.
Phrases like, "I don't give a hoot", or "Sounds like a real hoot!" fell on seemingly deaf ears as conversations dwindled and happy salutations fizzled.
Eventually the Owl admitted complete abject failure and abandoned the use of such cliche catchphrases in favor of regular communication.
Common Household Knife Makes Name Change
A common household knife recently changed its name amid fears that it just couldn't "cut it" anymore. We spent time with the knife these last couple of days, examining the local "knife life" in hopes of understanding just a small "slice" of its reality.
Competition for "cut time" is mega-fierce in the kitchen. Knives desperately work to "sharpen" their "edge" in a constant effort to stay as far away from the "cutting room floor" as possible.
So, what was the name change, you ask? Knife pointed out to us much of the superior-sounding knife nomenclature that surrounds it in the kitchen; names like: "paring knife", "chef's knife", "fruit knife"; and even a few speciality cutters like "Santoku knife" or "Sushimi knife".
"It was a real clear cut challenge to come up with a suitable moniker, but I really needed something that would put me a cut above the rest," said the knife, "And that's why I eventually settled on 'Mack the Knife'".
Mack the Knife insists that other knives use its full name. During our interview, various knives were hastily corrected for casual salutations like "Hey Mack!", or "Yo, The Knife, How you been?"
Apparently Mack the Knife's plan has been working "like a hot knife through butter". He's seen up to sixty-percent more nut chopping this week, along with peeling two large Irish potatoes, poking out five sets of fish eyes, and even stirring the master chef's morning coffee for an unforgettable two or three flicks of the wrist!
We certainly wish Mack the Knife luck in the ever-rigorous "cut scene". A knife lived in the drawer is a knife half lived, as they say!
Competition for "cut time" is mega-fierce in the kitchen. Knives desperately work to "sharpen" their "edge" in a constant effort to stay as far away from the "cutting room floor" as possible.
So, what was the name change, you ask? Knife pointed out to us much of the superior-sounding knife nomenclature that surrounds it in the kitchen; names like: "paring knife", "chef's knife", "fruit knife"; and even a few speciality cutters like "Santoku knife" or "Sushimi knife".
"It was a real clear cut challenge to come up with a suitable moniker, but I really needed something that would put me a cut above the rest," said the knife, "And that's why I eventually settled on 'Mack the Knife'".
Mack the Knife insists that other knives use its full name. During our interview, various knives were hastily corrected for casual salutations like "Hey Mack!", or "Yo, The Knife, How you been?"
Apparently Mack the Knife's plan has been working "like a hot knife through butter". He's seen up to sixty-percent more nut chopping this week, along with peeling two large Irish potatoes, poking out five sets of fish eyes, and even stirring the master chef's morning coffee for an unforgettable two or three flicks of the wrist!
We certainly wish Mack the Knife luck in the ever-rigorous "cut scene". A knife lived in the drawer is a knife half lived, as they say!
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Grad Student's Yoda Impression "Totally Blows"
"We'll be hanging out at the mall or something, and we'll be ordering food, and then he'll just start ordering in his Yoda voice, and it's like we all take a step back and feel embarrassed a little bit for him," reports 23 year old college Sophomore Miley Steinbeck of Wichita, Kansas.
The impersonator, Mike Gravel, a grad student majoring in Child Psychology, has apparently used his Yoda impersonation on many occasions, according to university friends and acquaintances. "Yeah, his Yoda totally blows. It's not funny. He's a pretty chill guy and he's not really even into Star Wars or anything like that," says one roommate who requested to remain anonymous.
Mike's parents further reinforced the perceived "chill guy" image, stating that Mike had always been a normal boy of agreeable demeanor with an about average ambition to succeed in life. Their brief sentiments held little if any newsworthy luster; they did, however, express mild bewilderment at Mike's Yoda outbursts as they had never heard him do any such impersonations while he lived at home.
The impersonator, Mike Gravel, a grad student majoring in Child Psychology, has apparently used his Yoda impersonation on many occasions, according to university friends and acquaintances. "Yeah, his Yoda totally blows. It's not funny. He's a pretty chill guy and he's not really even into Star Wars or anything like that," says one roommate who requested to remain anonymous.
Mike's parents further reinforced the perceived "chill guy" image, stating that Mike had always been a normal boy of agreeable demeanor with an about average ambition to succeed in life. Their brief sentiments held little if any newsworthy luster; they did, however, express mild bewilderment at Mike's Yoda outbursts as they had never heard him do any such impersonations while he lived at home.
Illegal Immigrant Postpones Garage Sale Until July 4th On Account Of American Flag-Themed Director's Chair
"I'm betting prices on this kind of item will spike during the 4th of July weekend," says Julio Ramirez, a 42 year old illegal immigrant from Sonora, Mexico, as he casually displays the star-spangled foldable item in question.
"My brother Ronaldo wanted to have the garage sale today since the forecast predicts scattered showers for the 4th. 'We never would have made it to America had we been afraid of a few rain clouds', I told him, 'and I'll be damned if I'll let such things stand between me and two to three extra American Dollars, come 4th of July weekend,'" says Ramirez.
Other sale items include an entire rack of assorted Mexican "vauqero" (cowboy) type button-up shirts (many of which sport Aztec-like zig-zag patterns with bright neon colors suggesting late 1980's manufacture), an alphabetical calligraphic sticker set that Ramirez was going to use to proudly display his Mexican state of origin on his Tahoe's rear windshield until said vehicle was impounded 2 months ago, and some mildly used one-size-fits-all flame print seat covers for compact car bucket seats.
Señor Ramirez also stated that, "Mi cunyada (my sister-in-law) wants to set up a camp grill and sell tacos on the sidewalk that day in conjunction with the garage sale. I told her that's fine with me!"
Questions were raised about food handling permits and certificates, but Ramirez had no further comments.
"My brother Ronaldo wanted to have the garage sale today since the forecast predicts scattered showers for the 4th. 'We never would have made it to America had we been afraid of a few rain clouds', I told him, 'and I'll be damned if I'll let such things stand between me and two to three extra American Dollars, come 4th of July weekend,'" says Ramirez.
Other sale items include an entire rack of assorted Mexican "vauqero" (cowboy) type button-up shirts (many of which sport Aztec-like zig-zag patterns with bright neon colors suggesting late 1980's manufacture), an alphabetical calligraphic sticker set that Ramirez was going to use to proudly display his Mexican state of origin on his Tahoe's rear windshield until said vehicle was impounded 2 months ago, and some mildly used one-size-fits-all flame print seat covers for compact car bucket seats.
Señor Ramirez also stated that, "Mi cunyada (my sister-in-law) wants to set up a camp grill and sell tacos on the sidewalk that day in conjunction with the garage sale. I told her that's fine with me!"
Questions were raised about food handling permits and certificates, but Ramirez had no further comments.
Regional Team Leader Exceeds Douche Quota
Mike Malveston, of Butte, Montanta crossed accepted social boundaries and comfortableness limits when he apparently exceeded the commonly understood "douche" quota last Tuesday afternoon around 3:34 PM, according to Jonas Peters, fellow Napa Auto Parts Front Desk Customer Satisfaction Associate and occasional lunch break compadre.
"He was exploring variants on the word all day long", remarked Peters. "It started in the morning when a disgruntled customer left the store. As soon as the door shut, Mike muttered 'douche nuts' under his breath. I laughed a little bit. Big mistake." Assoc. Malveston took Peters' reaction as a sign of approval, and from there began to perform like a giddy toddler in a room full of applauding adults.
Peters took an early lunch break as by 11:30 AM himself and the rest of the Napa Auto Parts staff had already heard "douche", "d-bag", "d-baggery", "d-baguettes", "douch-tastic", "douche Limbaugh", "douche Coupe", "Much a-douche about nothing", and a tandem ensemble of "What can I douche for you/douche me a favor" all creatively worked into otherwise passable sentences.
"I wouldn't put up with it..." said Peters with a hint of animosity in his voice "...I mean, I really just wouldn't put up with it if Mike weren't Regional Customer Satisfaction Associate Team Leader."
Peters notes that Malveston has crossed the line before with other socially metered words such as "Penis-Wrinkle", "Queer-Bait", "Hoe-Bag", and a three day bout with excessive Snoop Dog "for shizzle" talk. Peters also candidly told our newsman that if this happens one or maybe a few times more, he'll likely write an email to the Employee Affairs committee, or just wait until his Junior year of high school commences in September (since for Peters, this is only summertime employment).
"He was exploring variants on the word all day long", remarked Peters. "It started in the morning when a disgruntled customer left the store. As soon as the door shut, Mike muttered 'douche nuts' under his breath. I laughed a little bit. Big mistake." Assoc. Malveston took Peters' reaction as a sign of approval, and from there began to perform like a giddy toddler in a room full of applauding adults.
Peters took an early lunch break as by 11:30 AM himself and the rest of the Napa Auto Parts staff had already heard "douche", "d-bag", "d-baggery", "d-baguettes", "douch-tastic", "douche Limbaugh", "douche Coupe", "Much a-douche about nothing", and a tandem ensemble of "What can I douche for you/douche me a favor" all creatively worked into otherwise passable sentences.
"I wouldn't put up with it..." said Peters with a hint of animosity in his voice "...I mean, I really just wouldn't put up with it if Mike weren't Regional Customer Satisfaction Associate Team Leader."
Peters notes that Malveston has crossed the line before with other socially metered words such as "Penis-Wrinkle", "Queer-Bait", "Hoe-Bag", and a three day bout with excessive Snoop Dog "for shizzle" talk. Peters also candidly told our newsman that if this happens one or maybe a few times more, he'll likely write an email to the Employee Affairs committee, or just wait until his Junior year of high school commences in September (since for Peters, this is only summertime employment).
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