A happy today, indeed.

Taco: Take my hand. We'll make it. I swear.

Wifezilla: You're weird.

Taco: Well, yeah.

Wifezilla: Got you a happy today present. And no, I can't tell you.

Taco: Cool, what is it?

Wifezilla: Shut up. And there's two of them.

Taco: Omg is it boobs? I hope it's boobs.

Wifezilla: No. But maybe I can put them on top of my boobs.

Taco: Best. Wife. Evar.

Why aren't you listening?

Fuck you! I don't want to wear the tutu!

I mean, uh, yeah. Manly shit. And stuff.

I bought the last Beth Hart album I was lacking tonight. Why the fuck aren't you listening to her?

1. It's an awesome blend of blues & rock. Which is fucking awesome, since rock owes its life to blues and country already, even though nobody remembers that.
2. She's Janis reincarnated, motherfucker. Yeah, she was born two years after Janis died. She deserved a vacation. Bitch.
3. She covered Whole Lotta Love. I licked the screen but I'm pretty sure that isn't transmissible.
4. She toured with Jeff Beck. Seriously. God damn.
5. She's fucking hot. Srlsly.

Why the fuck aren't you listening to her? That's it. I'm not speaking to you any more.

Okay, I am. But only because the sex is great.

Zombies and strippers make everything better.

How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?

Inga: fett and i have been playing this game

Taco: Oh, now just so we're clear
Taco: FETT IS MINE

Inga: oh yeah? well YOU CAN'T STOP OUR LOVE

Taco: I bought him mashed potatoes! You just try and beat that!
Taco: Oh wait... yeah... boobs.
Taco: Shit.

Boobhism

A friend of mine was quite concerned over the fact that I no longer affiliate myself with any church. So to allay her fears regarding my immortal soul, I have founded the Boobhist church.

You may properly address me as The Boobha.

I'm told that a faith must have commandments. We really only have one:

1. I am the Boob thy Gland, which brought you out of Puberty. Thou shalt handle no organ before me.

For those of you who feel that you need some sort of creed to recite, I offer the following:

Your Boobs
Which art in thy sweater:
Handled be thy state.
Thy date be fun,
Thy bra undone,
But be back home by eleven.
Cop us this day
Our daily feel.
And forgive us our lame passes,
As we would totally forgive those who made lame passes against us.
But deliver us from celibacy.

Just wait until you see the communion ritual.