alright alright alright.....

cd's are up and on sale now, motherfuckers. i don't wanna hear anymore of your shit. buy that shit and do it fast.
i'll work on the t-shirts this week. i promise.

well, i hate to tell you all this, but i was right on the money with my motherfucking mavericks prediction. step back non-believers. we are going to do the same thing to those goddamn suns. what kind of fucking name is the suns, anyways? they should be the suns of bitches. i got to watch game 7 in a bar full of rocket fans. i thought i was in heaven for a minute. a forty point fucking blowout. the biggest margin of victory in the history of game sevens. i think me and my band could have stayed within fifty. i can shoot some motherfucking three pointers and shit. then i'd give em my unstoppable sky hook from half court and then i'd steal that ball and shit and do the curly neal and go flying over yao ming's fucking blockhead and fart on his face as i dunk that shit with my elbows and then i'd hang on the top of the backboard and drop down and flip off the crowd. yeah, that's what i'd do. me and my band would run the give and go offense. give me the ball and go to fucking hell.

word.

it was fun in houston. i met some of you fucks. it's cool to know that somebody's actually reading this. actually it's kind of weird. i don't like knowing that. i'm going to pretend that nobody's reading.

okay...

i'm pretending now.

tomorrow, i'm going to put my championship belt on the line and defend my copeland family golf title. my dad and brother and i are teeing it up at 11:50 at tierra verde for those of you who want to watch. my dad is a golf coach now. he finally quit coaching football and moved to golf. that is the natural progression for football coaches. actually, i think it is a requirement. he also teaches speech. i feel sorry for those poor students. learning speech from someone who still "warshes his clothes" and says that mussolini was from "itlee".

i shouldn't talk shit about him. he's having a rough time. he just went through his third divorce. he's lost about thirty pounds. i think that's how he goes on diets and shit. divorces do wonders for his figure.

i shall be on here tomorrow gloating about the successful defense of my title. i can't wait. actually, win or lose...we have a good time. it's the one thing we all like to do. well, maybe there's a few other things.

that was for kimberly. tequilasnotforme. she told me she likes it when i talk about my family. wait, i'm pretending no one is reading. goddamnit. fuck.

okay, now i'm pretending for real.

i remember when i was a kid and my mother and dad would pay bills, i used to like to sit by the table and get all the envelopes and shit and play like i was a businessman. i'd take them all to my room and start setting up accounts and shit and then i'd get on the phone and pretend to be calling my bank in zurich. i don't think i liked that as much as licking the chocolate icing off those bad ass beaters, though.

"do you wanna lick the beaters and bowl", mom said.

"are you fucking kidding me?", i replied in my cool ass eight year old voice.

after that, i went out to my fort and threw rocks.

i still like throwing rocks. i can chunk a rock a mile. i'm like fucking david from david and goliath except that i'm goliath and i can chunk rocks fucking hard as shit.

i wonder if goliath had a big dick. i bet he didn't. usually real tall lanky dudes have big dicks. like john holmes and shit.

dude, i remember when i played football at oklahoma state there was this dude that had the biggest dick i've ever seen. i used to read about 12 and 14 inch dicks in the penthouse forums and shit and i didn't believe it until i saw this dude. i didn't like going into the showers with him. he made me feel insecure. he used to say that if he got a hard-on he'd pass out from a loss of blood to his brain. i believed him.

his dick probably weighed more than his brain. he wasn't the brightest of fellas.

i went into subway today and there were three cops in there eating. they weren't uniformed cops, though. they had on cowboy type clothes and had big ass belt buckles and their badge on their belt and huge guns on their hips. they all had flat tops and big fucking fu manchu mustaches. i sat down in the booth next to them and they all prayed before they ate.
i thought it was good to know that we had some good christian cops. then i was wondering if they were praying to god to let them shoot someone today.

if i was a cop i'd confiscate everybody's weed and shit.

only dopes use dope,

scott