Death Threats Via Email Make Me Giggle.

Whats up cholos?!

I was perusing the ol' internet today when I came across a funny fucking email. I was reading about this artist in Miami who got death threats via email like,

"Let's Play this game: You gonna get murdered, first one to die loses."

I thought it was funking hilarious.


Anyway, my work threw a kick off party for our fund raising week last night at a local bar. I will call this bar "Sally". My plan was to:
1. Go to 'Sally'
2. get my moderate drink on
3. take some bitching pictures
4. go home and pull an all fucking nighter to get some projects done.
But what actually happened? I got my drink on, thats for sure. I got fucking drunk and had a great fucking time! It was a bunch of my cool co workers, a DJ, and a lot of booze. I talked to this cute chick for a while about photography and art (ie bullshit) for a while. I think she was into me, but isn't everyone? So I took her to the bathroom and scull fucked her.

just kidding.

No, I left her at the table, and talked to other people. It was good. I have to kick some asses.

-King Dave

A newspaper so bad that I wouldn't even wipe my ass with it.

Howdy my internet posse! I am going to cut to the chase pretty quick.

My office is next to the second most worthless thing ever (the first is carrot top), the shitty local college paper. These smug douche bags get all high and mighty over their cunt rag that they try to pass off as a paper. Fuck these pretentious faggots. I dont know anyone who likes their shit paper. To stop global warming and the raping of the Amazon, shut this pack of queers down. That would make Al Gore so happy he would fucking jizz. I hate the douche nozzels next door. The worst thing is that I have to hear their inane rambling through the wall that we share.

"NO Sally! NO ONE cares about what you and Brad did last night!! Fuck off!!" is what I would say to these faggy know-it-alls if I didn't have to continue to share this wall with them for who knows how long.

Anyway, my now not-sick girlfriend is swinging by, so i have to split. Drink a 40 for me.

-King Dave

Fucking shit fuck.

My goddamned future girlfriend got me shit sick! How fucking nice! I took her to the damn hospital last night because she was a whiny bitch, and now I have what she has. SHIT. I don't have time to be a sick mother fucker. Hell no! I have to lay some serious beats and kick some fat asses!

On a different note, if I became president, I would outlaw side hugs. What is a side hug you ask? A side hug is when you are sitting down and some retarted cunt decides that they want to broadside you with an awkward hug (usually while you are doing something better). Fuck that shit. Also, if I was president, I would do blow. A lot lot lot of blow.

-King Dave

Aftermizzath/ How the west was won

hang⋅o⋅ver

/ˈhæŋˌoʊvər/ Show Spelled Pronunciation [hang-oh-ver]
–noun

1.	the disagreeable physical aftereffects of drunkenness, such as a headache or stomach disorder, usually felt several hours after cessation of drinking.

2.	something remaining behind from a former period or state of affairs.

What the shit is this clever and descriptive definition above me?! Fuck that! I don't get hung over! That is some poppy-fucking-cock! I am just fucking fine, damn it.

Anyway, lets recap.

Last night:
me:

• DJ at friend's party
• Coolest person in the room
• Have an eyepatch
• Smacked bitches with impunity
• clubbed a baby seal just to make an ugly vegan cry.

After a majority of the worthless crusty tampons/ whores left, I proceeded to get my swerve on (English translation: I drank like the champion that I am). The party got exponentially better the more I drank (as do most things). The only downside is that there wasn't much tasty hoe for my remaining good eye to feast on. I'll tell you, if you only have one good eye, you have to give it hot bitches to look at lest it run away leaving you blind. Once I got over the fact that the best chick that was there was a five (and that is after drinking like a champ), Dick Chaney gave me a lift home on his wheelchair. He and I watched Strangers With Candy while continuing to drink. And that brings us to now. Fuck this fucking shit. I want some food. Seacrest out.

-King Dave

Beach Party in February. WTF.

Welcome to my obscene blog, Milk and Cereal. This is no ordinary blog, no. This is where the future me blogs about the past. Yes, my friends, I am in the future. It is rather neat.

Lets get to know each other Past, shall we? My name is King Dave and I rule the streets of the future. I am like the King Dave you know in your time, but things are very different in the future. I cant devulge much now, but details are to come. Dont worry. What you really need to know is that I wear an eyepatch.

Why?

Because I only have one fucking eye. That is why. Dont fucking get in my business.

*Deep Breath*

Sorry. I am a little touchy about the subject. Lets move on to what is happening right now in the future. At this very moment, I am DJing a beach party in the middle of February. It wasnt my first choice, but as king of the streets, it is my job to open these simpleton's ears to music that doesnt suck. Already I have gotten requests for some slut named Shittney Pubes. Of course I refused to play the drunk cunt's request. There were two reasons:

First: She is a drunk crusty cunt who could use something worthwhile in her ears (other than cocks).
Second: This piece of shit has lost all respect from everyone. This dumb whore has on separate occasions; fell asleep in the street, pissed in the corner of a basement mid party, and generally made a fool of herself since the first moment she stepped in to my turf.
Third: Her music choices are a fucking insult to my ears. She can eat shit and die.
Fourth: She wears her sun glasses at night (so she can, so she can, keep her vision straight).

But moving on...

It is time for me to mosey on for the time being. Let it be known that I dont want to be here and 99% of these people are worthless (like many things in the future). So long for now Past...


-King Dave