As usual, morning swim, quick round of skeet, message and then then the convogination... Yet today, something seemed a miss. Was it the fact that my trusty skeet caddie Spooky Marsinkowitz was out with inflammation of the tainticus particular? No... Was it the fact that my beloved pet gator Ricky didn't chase me with his/her (never had the guts to look) normal tenacity? No... Was it the fact that someone had taken the beloved nectar of the gods, Whole Milk, from the hallowed temple of Dairy goodness, the fridge, and not returned it?
Oh yes... That was it. And what, Pray tell, do I find in is place? Pansy, gay, smooth and fluffy YOGURT!!!
Oh Hell 'o Dolly, I don't think so. Ain't no he-man, woman hater in the world able to get his John Claude Van Damme groove on in the morning with Yogurt! A real man needs some stop up the engine, make the dog wet the floor, cat jump up in the ceiling fan, put yo momma in a home CONVOGINATIN'!
Needless to say...Things got broken and the Grand Poo Baa needs $10k for bail... CANGATD???
