tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55769742011-07-14T19:43:30.983-05:00Where people visit frequently in hopes that we updated. Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.comBlogger181100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1129666994206044322005-10-18T14:37:00.000-05:002005-10-18T16:26:25.593-05:00

All I Want for Christmas...is this. Maybe Santa will surprise me and bring me two tasers, then two people can be cops when the neighbors and I play "Cops and Protesters." Maybe even my friends will give me tasers so we can all play "Riot Police." If you've never played, here's how-- Gather a group of your cronies, give each of them a taser and a Anti-Riot Shield, if you don't have a taser, any

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1126537693389072602005-09-12T10:04:00.000-05:002005-09-12T10:08:13.400-05:00

I Call This One "Evidence" As I rolled out of bed this morning, I thought to myself, “What a beautiful day!! Today’s a great day to get fucked!!” so I went to buy gas. I offer a caveat: If you end up doing the same, don’t forget your lube like I did. I’m still walking funny. I’d like to think that everyone that visits this site picks up on the humor right away, but I know this isn’t the

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1126131878721932112005-09-07T17:18:00.000-05:002005-09-07T18:15:34.483-05:00

One more photo Chief Justice, please repose so I can take your picture again... Yesterday, I flicked on my TV, which was tuned into C-SPAN for some unknown reason, and saw a coffin with an American Flag draped over it. The burnished, brown body box was sitting in the center of some seemingly important room with big Corinthian columns, marble floors, and a velvet rope. I thought, "Sweet, Paris

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1095871492112535762004-09-22T09:56:00.000-05:002005-09-07T17:59:14.136-05:00

It's been a while...It's been a while since I last posted on this once revered comedy site. It's good to be back. Instead of explaining the reasons for my absence, I'll just drop a comedic gem in your velvet satchel.I've been hearing more and more about suicide bombings and decided I'd share my thoughts. For humorous purposes only, I'll type my thoughts in an extremely gay color.Suicide Bombings:

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1079415088014552332004-03-16T00:31:00.000-05:002004-03-16T17:29:32.436-05:00

I Think I'm Going to Hell: Entry I I hope the Passions of the Christ DVD has outtakes. How funny would that shit be? The savior is on the cross and all of the sudden a nail pops loose, his crown of thorns falls off, and he starts laughing hysterically while dangling from one nail. He'd probably go so far as to mutter a "Holy shit" as he fell. There are so many possibilities. One of the Romans

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1079331962101852622004-03-15T01:26:00.000-05:002004-03-15T01:29:38.653-05:00

I Guess Anna Nicole Smith Finally Discovered Crack, I Mean, Trim-Spa I know, I know… I update so much you can hardly keep up. Had I posted thrice more over the past two months, the site could have boasted bi-monthly updates. Bi-monthly updates on a blog, a concept so impressive it’s sick. I really don’t know what to say… my bad… mea culpa… sorry shawty. The bottom-line is that I’m sorry

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1071461058776962612003-12-14T23:04:00.000-05:002003-12-15T03:22:30.513-05:00

Women love me. Fish fear me. There I stood, fishing rod in one hand, some Tropical Skittles in the other, wearing nothing but a tattered, tan trench coat and a sage Stetson… It was go time! I never don knickers when in battle. The time is 3:41 pm, Skyway Fishing Pier the location. Winds are gusting from the North at kilt-flapping speeds and the temperature is a “feels like fuckin’ A.” It

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1068972475500332802003-11-16T03:47:00.000-05:002003-11-16T03:48:32.763-05:00

Daisy Dukes and the Explanations That Follow I just thought about the clothes I used to wear back in the day and how gay I’m going to look someday when I show my kids photos of me as a tyke. As kids, we could relate to our parents and their tight tees and short shorts because we wore them too. However, kids nowadays have never been exposed to ball-exposing shorts, ass-asphyxiating jeans, and

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1068477531851087322003-11-10T10:18:00.000-05:002003-11-10T10:24:36.343-05:00

Breakfast Ride I’m seated in Personality Theory right now. That is all… I’m out. Nah, jus’ playin’ G’s. Today, the “guy that speaks at the front of the room,” also known as the “professor,” is covering Bandura’s “Reciprocal Determinism” and the roles of attention. He mentioned how paying attention is crucial in modeling behavior. He also said some other shiznit, but I didn’t catch it

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1068149065949315012003-11-06T15:04:00.000-05:002003-11-10T10:20:39.673-05:00

DARK, DARK DAYS I'm actually somewhat upset today. The wife dropped our cow-shaped butter dish on the floor this morning and it broke. That was a bad ass butter dish if I ever saw one, and I've seen my share. I should be able to repair it with some super glue, but in the meantime, I would like to ask that our millions of adoring fans please pray for my broken cow-shaped butter dish and hope that

Jimmy_Flashdancenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1068092643158459842003-11-05T23:24:00.000-05:002003-11-05T23:59:40.823-05:00

FINALLY! I’m back! Sorry about the mysterious disappearance of Flashdance. Ya see, for the past month and a half I’ve been combing the African savannahs in search of the rare and elusive Anna Nicole Hippopotamus. Supposedly, this hippo goes around marrying other rich hippos that are 40-50 years older, waiting for them to croak, then inheriting all of their money. It’s amazing, I know. Makes for

Jimmy_Flashdancenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1068079150524354352003-11-05T19:39:00.000-05:002003-11-05T22:03:28.070-05:00

Let’s Talk About SEX! Dear Diary, Today was a BIG day for me. I finally graduated from a training bra to a full 36 D! Quick progression? Not really. I got a boob job. Yep, I saved up $3.75 and flew down to Mexico for Dr. Sanchez’s discount. It was well worth it. What a wild experience! One minute you’re talking to the Doc right before he puts you under, and the next minute you wake up

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1067852232873412972003-11-03T04:37:00.000-05:002003-11-03T05:26:12.596-05:00

Here in the study of Jimmy Flashdance, good friend and post extraordinaire, I can’t help but feel dwarfed by all his trophies that lay strewn about the room like underoos at a Michael Jackson "Boys Only" sleepover. Hand modeling championship cups tower over me. I type in their shadows. Who knew that Uncle Flashdance was once an acclaimed digital model? Not I… That came from left field, I

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1064534258383233852003-09-25T18:57:00.000-05:002003-09-25T19:07:32.866-05:00

I too am rather disappointed in myself. I haven’t posted as much as I’d like to. I’m not one to make excuses, but I’m tellin’ ya, this Danielle Steele novel that I’ve been reading for my book club, Chai Tea and Book Chat, is simply superb. The magnum opus is called Dating Game. I had a premonition that it would be a good read because it had a hot pink cover. I started it a week ago and have

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1064523551514228742003-09-25T15:59:00.000-05:002003-09-25T16:02:54.400-05:00

Ya know, it seems like every day I’m on the UCF campus, as I’m making the epic trek from my first class to my Super Bun Buster Aerobics class at the gym, I see this same kid. I’m just walking along, minding my own business, trying not to sweat like a tired French hooker in the Florida sun, when I see him. Who is this kid, you ask? Well, he could be you...he could be me. Hell, he could be anybody.

Jimmy_Flashdancenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1064289337580318122003-09-22T22:55:00.000-05:002003-09-22T23:01:08.090-05:00

I’m very disappointed in myself that I have not been keeping up with my posts in recent weeks. This blog was supposed to be much like aggressive masturbation…I was supposed to engage myself in it at least once a day. Well, at least I can say I’ve kept up with one of those schedules… Ya so anyways, I have a little story for all of you kids out there. Just about a fortnight ago, my friends Chris,

Jimmy_Flashdancenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1064133722830941332003-09-21T03:42:00.000-05:002003-09-21T03:47:48.120-05:00

It’s 3:12 am… I’m sitting in front of my computer, eating a bowl of Steak ‘n Shake chili, and I gotta say, I can’t think of any good reason why I shouldn’t be naked right now… and I’m naked, wonderful. To hell with mental pictures, here’s the real thing, or at least from the waist up. I won’t show the whole picture, because I don’t have a license for my pet anaconda. Word has it that the

Thibodeauxnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5576974.post-1062725979878116642003-09-04T20:39:00.000-05:002003-09-04T22:09:00.363-05:00

Ever since Mr. Thibodeaux invited me to this blog, I have been furiously searching for something to post about, much like how a voracious fat girl searches for a cheeseburger. Of course, the second I gave up for the evening and settled down in front of the tube, I found my inspiration in the form of NFL Kickoff Live. You see, this is the hour long show that gets people primed up for another

Jimmy_Flashdancenoreply@blogger.com0