Sometimes people call me a "joey" but I think that's stupid, because my name's not Joey or Joseph or Joe. Plus, Kat used to have this ex-boyfriend named Joseph and he liked referring to himself as "Joey" in this really fucking annoying baby-talk voice, and I don't want to be associated with that punk-ass bitch.
Kat decided to take a day or twelve off from posting because she's busy. She's got some deadline for some project at work, and she's writing some presentations for some conference she's speaking at, or curing cancer, or something. What the fuck do I know, I'm just a little helpless baby koala. Look at me, I'm so goddamned fuzzy and cute I can hardly stand myself.
Anyway, since she's so busy she asked me to write about something that would hold her readers' interest. Not like she had that many, but since this one really gorgeous lady linked her she's had a bunch more traffic. I took the writing gig because I had to. Do you know how hard it is to find a job in L.A., especially if you're really short and hairy and still live with your mom like me? It's a nightmare.
Since I'm just a little koala I don't know shit about all this turmoil in the Middle East and that W. guy's reasoning for going over there and blowing stuff up, but I was thinking that maybe there's something else that could be done instead of making everything all explode-y like my ass the morning after I go to the Mexican buffet. Everyone keeps talking about how bad that chunky dude with the big mustache and the beret is, so I thought, well, why not just send us koalas over there to take him out?
Hey, stop laughing!
You people all think that since we're so damn cute and fuzzy, that we're some kind of punk-ass bitches like Kat's ex-boyfriend with the baby-talk. Not so! We're mean little mofos in real life. See those claws? We can fuck some shit up with those things, mang. My plan is simple: just send that Saddam dude a big box of live koalas as a present. He'll be all, "Well, spank my ass and call me Potsie!" and he'll open the cage because he thinks we're so cute. But then we will open up a can of whoop-ass, koala style. We'll turn into a raging ball of fuzz and fury the likes of which the mustachioed dictator (ha, ha, I said "Dick Tater") has never seen! He'll be left bloodied and humiliated - do you know how much of a wuss you look like if you get your ass kicked by a bunch of fuzzy little tree-dwelling koalas? Seriously, all his minions would lose respect for him, his concubines wouldn't want to do him anymore and he'd be exiled to a goat manure processing plant in the mountains. Voila! No war, no dead people, and us koalas would get to eat the human flesh that we secretly crave. Everyone's a winner!
babbled by Kat @ 1:35 PM |