It should come as no surprise to anyone that Peabs loves to consume crystal meth in all shapes and sizes (though preferably in massive, obscene quantities, bovs). This is about as obvs as the herpes festering on the upper lip of Dr. Bill Cosby, due to last evening's horse-induced affair with a Vietnamese crackwhore that bore a striking resemblance to Curtis Armstrong. What few of you know is that yours effing truly also dabbles a tad in screenwriting; usually quality pictures, though I have been known to write a blockbuster every once in a wizz in order to supplement my ever-burdgeoning drug habit. Schmobvs. In fact, people ask Peabs constantly if any of the characters in my scripts are based off of my pretty self. Hogsviously the answer is obvs. Tyler Durden? Written in midst of a 14 day coke binge. Charles Foster Kane? Well, you can probs put two and two together and figure that one out. And if you can't, well, please Sookie Sapperstein my fucking cockring, you effing dildo. I'm the best.
Yesterday morning, Bill Cosby was shitting on the kitchen floor when he turned to yours effing truly and asked if we should quickly split an eight-ball (or 4) and go to Charles Bronson's house for his annual "Dirty Dozen Party". For those of you unaware, every year Chuck invites his share of filthy starlets (and equally as filthy faux-politicos like my gorgeous self) to dress up as cast members from his timeless 1967 motion picture and reenact scenes. Well, sorta. Actually, it's a bunch of trannies and drag queens obsessed with Jim Brown injecting smackysmack into their Uncle Festicles and baking Gyne-Lotrimin cookies. By the dozen.
Mars she. Needless to say, this is where Coz met the aforementioned Joseph Heller, who apparently came dressed as Col. Everett Dasher Breed. The rest of the evening was pretty standard - Peabs smoked some yaba and got my ass-licked by Telly Savalas, who kept asking me:
"Who loves eatin' ya ass, baby? That's right, Telly, baby. Telly!"
While most would find that to be rather disgusting, the man has a tongue only comparable to a candyflipping Donald Duck giving a Hum-V to Joe Buck. So eager, so razzle-dazzling. Bovs on your Kojaked tees, El Sleezo Tough!
Until tomorrow, my pleabs of Peabs. Damn, that's really creative. Shocking, since I'm a fucking gobblingly mad genius, you Ratzo Rizzo wascally wabbits! Anything left to say, Dr. Bill Cosby?
"Dizzee Rascal is a flazzum scuzzle buzzle!"
Obvs in '05™.