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True Stories of Urban Adventure! Pt 1: Romance, and... So, I was driving into my parking spot at my condo in my old car,  a shabby Cavalier dubbed by my friend Marc to be "Lady Cavalieria". Its real name was "American Shitbox Moneypit of Shit". My used...

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Nerd Fight II Return of the Outrage Hey Folks, admin_rock here. It's come to my attention that it's been a long time since we armed you with any new ammo for causing nerds to fight and argue. And really, it's so very pleasing to sit back...

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Dark Betty Saga: pt 3: Crisis in Infinite Riverdales Good news, Correctness readers! We have managed to find an excerpt for the script for part 3 of the Dark Betty Saga: Crisis in Infinite Riverdales, due for Christmas. We had a 45 minute argument in our...

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Smackdown, Anyone? Us: Hey you know what this site needs? Peanut Gallery: Better writers? Us: Bite Us! No no, what this site needs is more impotent nerd rage. No one has insulted Robbierobtown for his non...

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An Open Letter from Katy Perry's breasts To Whom it May Concern: Listen, we know you're looking at us. We get it. We're on the big side, as far as breasts go. Along with Katy's eyes, we represent most of the oversized stuff on her. And...

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The Love Song of J. Xander Douchebag

Posted by admin | Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Posted on 14-07-2009

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I grow old… I grow old…

I shall wear the bottom of my Gap denims rolled.

Shall I spike my hair up high, Do I dare to eat a Dragonfruit,

I shall wear Old Navy Capris, and walk upon the beach.

I have heard the Jonas Brothers singing, each to each

I do not think they will sing to me.

Fuck it, I’ll just get frosted tips.