Tuesday, March 6, 2012
How to play the Name Game with Rush.
Rush, Rush, bo-big-headed-blowhard-ass-brush,
Wasn't that fun? Throw in some hopscotch and cherry-flavored Spree and we have us a party.
I picked that name, because it's what we call that mean kid who lives down the street and likes to pick on defenseless girls. Yep, he's the kind of shittard who will throw gum in a cute girl's hair because she won't talk to him. Jeezie-Peezie, I can't blame the poor girl. Aside from having fat, blubbering cheeks, he spits when he talks. So gross. He's always touching his to-pee too. (Not toupée.) Frankly, I doubt the dorknoodle showers more than once a month. He farts a lot too. Stinky fucker. I'd beat him up be he'd probably sit on me until I turned purple and said, "Uncle."
Anyway, I'll defend my little girlfriend, Sandra, forever because Pop taught me to be nice to girls. I'm hoping I can take her to prom and she'll let me have heavily protected sex with her afterward. (Please don't rat on me and tell Pop I said that.) Sandra is my love because she's cuter than kittens wrestling. I heart her, head-to-toe. Rush is stool--not the kind in a bar, either. So, he'd better lay off my girl or I'm going to tinkle in his gym bag. That's how I roll.
Xs and Os for all the hotties. Holl-a!
*This is a fictitious name and it doesn't refer to any real person. I mean, seriously, who would name a child something so asinine, anyway? Nobody. It's obviously just a silly nickname I made up--kind of like the name Gush. See? Dumb, right?