Shit, piss, cocksucker,
My mother is a mother fucker.
My Mother Fucking Mother
Labia, labia, get a scabia,
On the planet of tit fucking mania.
Penis in, and penis out
Tell Ben Franklin not to tout that Gout.
Asshole lickers, fruit pickers
Smother my car with bumper stickers.
Obama for President, Obama for Resident
Like black Jesus, Obama’s Heaven-sent!
Got no reasons, got no rhymes,
I’m too busy boning bitches in their hymens.
SILVER LAKE, CA—Dozens of hipsters gathered at the Silver Lake Reservoir today to protest what they call the “disturbing trend” of gentrification in the areas of Los Feliz, Silverlake and Echo Park, also known as the “emo-fecta” region of Los Angeles.
Despite the 100-degree heat, these concerned citizens marched around the Reservoir in a uniform of skin tight black jeans, checkered Vans and ironic t-shirts for a full 10 minutes. Sporting an asymmetrical haircut, lead organizer F.X. Randall voiced his concerns over rising rents in the area. “Before, I could survive on what I was making just jammin’ out with my music,” he said. “But now I have to put my time in, working for ‘the man’ at Coffee Bean. I work, like, almost twenty hours a week! In addition to my music! And I’m still barely able to make ends meet.” When Diego Juarez, his landlord, was questioned about Randall’s ability to pay rent, Mr. Juarez rolled his eyes and explained that he receives a wire transfer from Randall’s father’s checking account every month.
Friends, your Totes Rando is an adventurous lad, and his girlfriend is one too! That’s why this weekend, as we were celebrating our five year anniversary, we decided to visit a naked people’s resort in the middle of the desert. Now, I had read up on this place, and many of the reviews were filled with wink-winks and nudge-nudges about what REALLY goes on there. From these reviews, we got the impression that we wouldn’t be expected to “swing,” but that we also needn’t be offended should people ask us to join their uninhibited fuckfest.
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Here is an unnamed contributor to TotesRando.com showing off his neck strength in a battle of the minds:
Don’t worry kids, he’s totally unharmed. Those are regulation-size NNSA (National Neck Strength Association) cardboard boxes, carefully placed to break his fall. However, his neck is seriously broken and he is uninsured. If you’d like to send money to take him off the CA Uninsured Mandatory 30-Day Do Not Resuscitate list, send $100 via Paypal to totes@totesrando.com, and I’ll send whatever’s left after paying hosting fees to the hospital (St. Chino Prison Memorial in East LA).
Also, support stem cell research, as it may help him walk again someday!
I believe it’s important to keep positive and be mindful of your blessings. So today I decided to get organized, and made some Top 3 lists of my favorite things! As Charlie Sheen would say in that movie High-Five, these are my “Desert Island top 3’s!”
Top 3 immediate family members:
1.) My older sister. Really nice hair. When we were kids, she’d take the heat for alot of our pranks. I truly wish we still spoke.
2.) My older brother. Kind of a dick, but it was nice to have someone around I could swipe porn, booze, and small firearms from. Get out soon Mikey, you are missed!
3.) My father. I guess Dad makes the list by default, as there were only 5 of us, and it’s not too hard to edge out fucking mom. I mean, really, if you can’t beat mom…Jeeeesus fucking Christ.
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Sometimes I wonder what my grandparents used to fantasize about. What was it like in the 30’s, before Hollywood CGI movies could create any landscape imaginable. I bet their fantasies were humble, by modern standards anyway. I decided to call them and find out.
“Hello, Grandma, it’s your number one grandson.”
“Oh hi, how are you? You still eating meat?” She said.
“Um, yeah. Listen Grammy, when you were a kid what did you fantasize about?”
“That’s a good question. Let me see here, well when I was a girl I used to imagine I would grow up to be a nurse.”
I swallowed and tried not to laugh. Was she serious, a nurse? That seemed like such an attainable dream, like if I had the genie’s lamp and I said I wished to be a lawyer. Sure, it would take a little work and time, but I’m fairly certain I could attain the goal.
Not uniquely, I met Richard at a bar. Julio’s Paradise Shack in Cabo san Lucas, to be exact. I had turned 32 the week before, and to prove to myself that I wasn’t too old to party like a teenage whore with a trust fund, irregular boobs, and no self-esteem, I grabbed two of my closest girlfriends (ok, two women that I barely know but occasionally attend wine tastings with), and, after packing our favorite Oprah’s Book Club reads and two halter-top bikinis that were too tight three years ago, we jetted off for our own little spring break getaway.
Prior to meeting Richard, I had been single for well over six years. Three of those years I spent nursing a broken heart; my ex-boyfriend, Ted, whom I had dated steadily and exclusively for 26 days, decided to find God and change his name to “Tina” (as so many of us do).
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Where’s my post bitch? Where is it?
I sent you something a week ago and I’m still waiting for that shit to drop. Stop whining about how hard it is to format my shit, a fucking three year old can host a blog in this day and age. So quit stalling and let the world see my genius, you fucking faggot.
Are you trying to censor me? My voice will be heard and it’s going to echo through the streets and the hallways across this planet, and it’s so pure that it’s going to change mankind’s genetic makeup. Is that something you want to censor? Ladies and gentleman, apparently Totes Rando turns on the news and likes what he sees. Boo this man!
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Hiyo short-tees!
Check out this vicious shitshow:
Dentists? Fuck dentists. Nary do I even brush my teeth before an appointment. That’s like cleaning before the maid shows up. He makes 6 figures, and probably has some oral fetish anyway, so let him earn it. Hell, I’ll eat some stringy barbeque before I show up and let him sift through the wreckage.
Same goes for doctors. Fuck em. If I have to get my ass examined, I don’t even swab down the nether eye first. I’m driving home in a Dodge Neon, he’s driving home in a BMW. Let my insides haunt him a bit.
Being the only sober person at a bar or party is like being the last survivor in a zombie movie.
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