So did you remember to do your blog today? No, goddammit, I didn't! Apparently not. No indeed. Not until I have gorged myself on on countless Snackwell's chocolate cookie cakes, no. Ah, but it's terrible. I still have the old swirly feeling in my head and not much else in my stomach except air, that threatens to blow itself so hard out of my asshole so as to turn my asshole inside out. What would that look like? A little ass hat? I suppose. Hmm.
So a lot of bloggers write upon the NEWS and some lovely lovely shit like that ... well I have some NEWS for all of you, yes ... it appears that all hell has broken loose in that rotten estuary they call CAPE CORAL ... well, as if it wasn't already a rotten vision of hell anyway, where the hounds of hell snarl and drool and foam rabidly at the mouth while they charge mightily through platted lot after platted lot, until finally they become stuck in traffic on Del Prado, turn onto the Midpoint Bridge Municipal Parking Lot, crawl behind a dump truck for an hour and are greeted with a hand and a sharp demand for a dollar, whereupon they bite off the hand and the arm, leaving only a screaming toll worker with a gusher of blood where there had once been a state-mandated toll-taking arm ... for this misery we could only hope, my friends. So it is that upon this rotten estuary sits IDA S. BAKER HIGH SCHOOL, where teenagers are rounded up and told all kinds of lies and mistruths about man and god and law 180 days out of the year, instead of being allowed to smoke pot and fuck each others' brains out, as is their wont and most natural, shall we say, POSITION. Speaking of positions and fucking your brains out, it looks like two Ida Baker teachers were experimenting with a few of the former while doing the latter. In other words, two high school teachers have been caught fucking in the classroom and we've got all kinds of dirty e-mails to prove it. Which, by the way, I highly encourage. Except when you're married.
(And, as a side note ... for the love of god, don't write dirty e-mails on from a work address you fucking goobers! Get a yahoo account, so you can have an address like email@example.com AND maintain your job and your privacy in the process. Everybody with a fucking brain should know this by now.)