That New Blog:
Caves and Nomads
What’s good bitches and snitches. It’s been a grip and a half but the Killa is back and ready to fuck your world up again. I know I retired from the game but being back in the town where it’s socially acceptable to be blackout on the streets and come into work hungover and stoned and the drive to avoid the 0.0 has brought me back to your second most visited site right behind youjizz. As always, I hope classes are going slow and awful and that your social life is struggling. Just kidding cronies I hope all is well. I also hope you went hard this summer, but one thing I know for a fact is that you would not believe what occurred this summer in the 317. I refuse to share more than half the stories that took place for the mere reason that you probably would lose even more respect for me than you already have. Am I embarrassed about any of it? Fuck no I had a great fucking time and lived more in those three months than you probably ever will.
In those three months my street cred rose from a mere 6 to a solid 9.6. I know, pretty fucking impressive. And I’m sure your asking, “Coach Bombay, how could you have done such an astonishing thing in such little time?” Good question pal. It all started in the first week of May. I turned 20, and considering im seriously concerned I may not make it to my 21st I decided it was time to go harder than Jimmy Kennedy on a Saturday night (sidenote: you ever seen that guy drink? Motherfuck me, he doesn’t stop). A few short days later Mr. Pickles had had enough of the living under his parents roof and purchased an apartment. Yeah. “Oh shit” is right. The first few days of owning the apartment the only furniture in the place was the legendary beer pong table, busch and keystone cans, and more than 5 handles of god’s gift Kamchatka, all empty of course. After that it was just a blur of daily beer pong games and meetings in the oval office. I’m not wasting my time explaining what meetings consisted of. If you can’t pick up on it than you suck.
Things got hilly after that. Conflicts with gay neighbors provided constant issues with having to give half a shit about how hard we were partying. Seriously, we only gave half a shit. Eventually we all got sick of the dirtbag bitching and pulled the Baltimore Colts and left quietly in the middle of the night. And that leads us to the decision to avoid the stinky armpit of the state and head back to heaven.
Except heaven is starting to look like purgatory. It’s still the best place on earth but it’s been invaded by the most annoying people on earth…Coasties. Part of it may be because I live in the most Jewish populated apartment complex in the 812, but they’re fucking everywhere. Don’t get the wrong impression, I’ll rock a snapback and a jersey twice a week, but that’s only because its comfortable. These douchers won’t leave the crib without checking themselves in the mirror thrice, constantly moving the hat to where it looks best. Fuck off coasties ya’ll FUCKING SUCK.
Shouts to Zack Martin and the Irish crew, Gob you look great on the field and so do you Carlo. T Stock your legs are fucking tree trunks and Turk I respect you kicking into the net the entire game. Also to Reggie Kiel, We’ve been on campus for maybe a month and haven’t seen your acne-infested face once. You don’t know how happy this makes me. Michael Ludwig for being the twin I never had, Welcome to the Experiment son, teach the state of Missouri how we do things. Keep it real tweeple, smoke weed eat dagwoods, God Bless. @thatBTownie23 get at me.
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