Summer in Sumplace

Pepsi

Russelwull Swanson — Thu, 19 Jan 2012 02:36:22 +0000

If `teh1 was Chinese,

Blastoise

Russelwull Swanson — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 15:55:21 +0000

What are all these books doing so far from mango juice? I mean, I’m mean.

IT AIN’T NO STANDUP!!!!

Sitter down. Abner? You have no opinions. I control all your curtains.

Better than Joe

Russelwull Swanson — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 23:56:25 +0000

Dah… dee… doo… That’s my password.

(Every/No)body Knows The Bubble I’ve Seen

Russelwull Swanson — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 16:43:13 +0000

I tell ya, bro. Tymes is tuff. One if by land, two if by pea. Get my brother to come out of the ventilating system and buy me The Witcher. If you told me the story of the Hoober-Bloob Highway, floppy drives would be much more expensive. Word Cunt: 43.

Gopher the moon! We have Tak 2: Staff of Dreams, we’ll be smothered in flowers before you can say “Siren siren siren siren siren siren siren siren”. If you’ve made it this far, you’re where… monsters… are…

Nauticus

Russelwull Swanson — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 02:45:05 +0000

To the greatest bucket ever, he played harpsichord on the centipede. Keep going and you will reach tomorrow as it may or may not been seen through the nose of no bankers from Serbia.

To be yellow, the über-walrus bean sea-horses must put their running little yellow man back the hell where he belongs. Scandinavia was never painted purple by any huge spaceship that I did not make. Speaking of witch, little quarter notes don’t dance around speakers where I come from. Maybe where you come from.

Only tomorrow with a sword the size of a bigger sword could hold off a mob (of turtles) that large for that long for that blue. No, that blue!

To The Crumbs Place!

Russelwull Swanson — Sat, 28 Feb 2009 04:00:08 +0000

Midnight monsters with nothing to do! Kill my postbox, we have rum. Should you ever destroy more than 50 doctors, come register your almonds at a safe place.

From far enough away, everyone is cute.

I Am Here. Now I Am Here.

Russelwull Swanson — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 04:06:42 +0000

Contrary to popular be-leaves, I cannot tie my car in a bow. Or an arrow. Or Arrow.

But there is still hope! And Hope II, by Alex Brandon! With that stash o’ weapons, we just mite prevail! Gimme some skin, but make sure it isn’t sunburned!

Hall of Shame

Russelwull Swanson — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 01:16:59 +0000

I could not think of it. You probably could. I don’t wanna ask about it though, because that would be cheating. The longer I wait, the longer you wait. And then I finally figure out who is waiting with us. And I wonder how they could have gotten in such an enclosed space, especially for the sole porpoise of waiting.

Don’t point that Groucho Marx mustache at me!

Get in the bus, it takes you a place. And the driver looks strangely like the G-Man from Half-Life. Remember those airsoft pellets I mentioned earlier? They’re in the Hummer. Xan Kriegor would be prowd.

Don’t point that tortoise at me!

I started to think about the current global situation. And then my head hurt. So I stopped, and starting thinking about stopping again. Stopping to think, that is. Our last hope is in DM-Deck16. Which sucks, because we’re stuck in CTF-Face][. Winston, Becca, Squidward; They were all wrong. Wrong about right stuff. Nothing but the right stuff!

I’m Suspicious

Russelwull Swanson — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 22:53:22 +0000

Somehow, I’ve started to think that the font on this page is not Verdana. I always post in Verdana. If I ever find out who stole my Verdana, I’ll drive a Courier harpoon through their Arial Black.

In Hiding

Russelwull Swanson — Sun, 22 Feb 2009 20:59:19 +0000

No, they’ll never find me. Stop staring and maybe I’ll have a chance to escape. If you wanna follow, just get on, bored.

Truth be told, I never really was captured. Three short men carried the bucket of airsoft pellets to the door. Unfortunately, that door was upstairs. I was downstairs. And now the jet plane is forever purple.

Don’t believe me? Grab a chair. Grab two chairs, if your butt’s big enough. Come to think of it, get a butt before you do anything else. Listen to me. No, I’m over here. That’s it. Child, the moon is falling. Too many fat people in one place at one time. And too many treadmills & stair-steppers for that to be plausible. Your face is plausible. Your mom is plausible. This is Mission: Implausible.

See the difference? Halo 2 wasn’t a pretty cool guy. He wasn’t even a guy. Nor a gal. He was a gual.

In conclusion, I should play baseball.