vim

why is it that my morning oatmeal tastes so much better when licked from her quivering thighs?...


...what the fuck do you mean "that wasn't oatmeal?!?!"

First off, the whole wheat pizza dough i made last night didn't turn out...so i had to chuck it and make a fucking new one. Then, it took me like 15 minutes to find the key to the fucking wine cellar, and when i finally did, i was out of the fucking 93 Jordan cab...I swear those fucking chicks and MY red wine. Then, during...
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ok...so like...i can't be the ONLY one...who twists their pubes up into little dreadlocks and dances crazy naked around the house while blastin' Bob Marley & Pato Banton.....can i ??


ummm.....nevermind.

I met her on the Amur river, just outside of Khabarovsk, Siberia. I was 15. She was probobly 19 or 20, and stunningly beautiful, exuding this natural, rugged elegance that held me in pubescent awe. She took the knife from her belt, and slit open the belly of the 250lb fish. I'm still sure that it was her beauty and precision that took my breath...
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My poor little house, ghasping for air under that enormous, plastic, CDC tent, men in white suits and masks running in and out of her. Hoses, and ducts spilling out of her windows like organs. Several choppers circled overhead, their pilots, watching the chaos from above. They told me that the cats began dying on Sunday morning, shortly after I first began to notice my...
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outside = 92 degrees
pool = 85 degrees
weber = 450 degrees
margaritas = 34 degrees
tammi = masters degree in evolutionary biology
heather = masters degree in theology and religious studies
two incredibly smart, beautiful, bikini-clad women, engaged in fierce intellectual argument over dinner at my pool-side table = fucking HOT as fuck-off-deadly-hell!!!


please enjoy your weekend...i vow to do the same.

vim's advice for the day...

ok...you know that one chick that you see every single dingle day in passing?...yeah you know the one...and you feel like you really should know her name at this point, cuz first off she's fuck-off-deadly-gorgeous...and 2nd, you see her every day on your way here or there, but you just smile, wave, or wink as you pass by...dude...introduce yourself, today...not...
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Dahlia Jean the mermaid queen lived far beneath the seas. In a little pink castle made of coral, in a forest of little sea trees. She swam through the vast castle gardens, with the best of her ocean amigos, like Cid the Squid, Kelly the Jelly, and an eel by the name of Montego.
Each day for the queen was exciting, and full of such...
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so I've never been much of a home-improvement type guy....but HOT DAYAMN I'm a sexy bitch with that jackhammer.

ritz, cheese wiz, corn dawgs, and natty ice...ooh, and skinny crank ho's...can't ferget the skinny crank ho's.

smoked sturgeon bruschetta, served with lemon, creme fraiche, and Tsar Nicoulai caviar...chilled scallop ceviche, served in lettuce cups with julienned roasted chiles, honey, and Tsar Nicoulai caviar...assorted sashimi served with wasabi infused Tsar Nicoulai caviar...and an international variety of vodkas all frozen to the neck in flower filled blocks of ice.....oh and Russian chicks....can't forget the Russian chicks.

God I love the caviar business.

ok so like...if i use a huge-ass bowie knife to shave my chest, instead of this stupid, pink Gillette: Venus...does that at all improve my tough to gay ratio?

thanks,

vimmy