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| Hello Peeps. My page sucks. Why are you here. Are you still here? You shouldve left the second sentence. Oh well...?! I might as well congratulate you for not getting bored senseless. If you are a browser I should point you in the direction of a hospital because this page might cause insomnia. Please purchase an airbag because this might get a little "funky". I myself own a really big hat. The following models are all airbags...... la  de da DE DA blah blah this sucks and who cares This list includes both prototypes and production airbags. The who cares is being tested as we speak and should be gracing the public sometime in the year 2000. Big hats have also been worn by numerous fat heads, John Howard, and even a helicopter. And, believe it or not, airbags dont kill people this stupid insomnia inducing sight just fries there mind. A giant cow also produced tractors for farming uses. For more information contact www.whyamihareiamadork.com and if you are interested in seeing some of the airbags,cows or hats up close check out the giant moron convention, October 11th and 12th in Moronsvylle, Pennsylvania. At this event will be every model of airbags, no prototypes, as well as rare hats and earmuffs. You will also be able to use the exclusive head mesuring device that stretchs a circumference of 1.5 miles. For more info. call 609-397-iamamoron. Paul Tucci is also one of the mentioned people above. He has various retarded sayings such as..... 1 tikigupresents 2 ill bake your windows 3 you can hass my animals any time you want 4 pasta ruberbands ( one of my personal favorites ) 5 wouldent you piss your pants if.....? (while playing FF8 or need for speed) If you would like to contact this gifted ( lol ) young man please call his number at 410-426-7873. If he answers, please laugh at him for getting detention for chasing a very large spanish super hero. Moving on, John Howard, who has a head that weighs 35 pounds, is one of those retards who goes to China to see the Austrailian Opera House. Also, this retard said in 2nd grade, and I quote, ".... he came out of the bathroom and crabbed my adams apple and tried to kill me?" And I should also point out that this moron always talks like he is asking a question. In his first grade class, poor big headed John told on a certain young man that he had crackers in his desk. Crackers? Who the hell would tell on someone for having crackers? Thats John for ya. This is pretty irrelivent, but in the Korean War, a man was washing his hand when he was bitten by a fish. This fish was eaten by a larger fish and in doing so attracted a shark. The shark ate the fish and there by consumed the man. So never wash your hands in Korea. Speeking of hands, never shake hands with a Turkish person. They wipe thier asses with their hands. Do you have insomnia yet? Just checking. Do you like hobos? If so you should visit Eric Mattingly's Hobo site at www.crosswinds.net/~ericlax65/index.html Pokemon is gay. Do not come into my site if you are a fanatic. If so, you are gay as well. Now that we have had a word from our sponsers, I believe a song is in order. And by the way this is NOT sing-a-long with the champ..... " Love is a  burning thing. And it burns like Johns big head in a flaming pile of mints. Also there is a man. Who has legs that are 15 and a half inches...." Ok that really sucked. Just like this site. Do you have insomnia YET? So long for now kiddies. I hope your airbags and earmuffs are straped on tight because the next part might get a little "funky"... To be continued....... Im back..... Here are some kick ass animations...                         Im Back!!! So, hows it been goin in my leave of absense? Since my last update it seems I have gotten a new apartment, met Paul BFF ( I'll tell ya in a sec )and had a birthday. First, my "apartment." Well my parents seemed to have moved me into a new room and gotten me a new couch bed. This might seem odd to you but in the monasurique of my life it is but a simple "uh" type thing. Now for BFF. Paul Tucci, who I mentioned before, was the only Paul I knew. Then came this other Paul. I dont even know his last name because I call him BFF. BFF stands for (pardon this) "Big Face *%$# or Best Friend Fred." Dont ask me why but this is his nickname. My b'day wasent much so ill skip it. Since the update I have also become a biting "Leprachaun." First at a young mans house I was recording something into his computer and a peron ( he shall be named the Leprachaun tamer ) came over. I was getting a tad bit hectic and the chaos was erupting. Then I had a catharsis and , dare I say, transformed into a "leprachaun." Then the "tamer" decided to STEAL MY SEAT!!!!! I then went on a total rampage determined to bite the "tamer." The historic bout lasted about 15 minutes and I did indeed bite the "tamer." Then came the "Nike" marketing ploy. I decided that leprachaun taming could become a real sport. The comercial would go as follows. It would be a dark room and the "tamer" would step into the light. He would say," I can tame the leprachaun." Then everything would go dark and quiet and I would step into the light. I would say in a creepy voice, " You can never tame the leprachaun." Then the fabled "swoosh" would engulf the screen. Good idea huh'? Well thats it for now. I'll be back.. Sup? Im back. Where should I start....? First off, my brother has become an elf. Now you might be thinking "An elf? What the hell does an elf have to do with your brother?" Well here is your answer. One day my three year old brother was getting pissed off at me. We were in my previously mentioned apartment where I had pillow cases lying on the ground. My brother in an attemt to overcome my "teasing" threw one of the pillow cases on his head and became the "Dobby." The Dobby is an elfish creature that simply bites and knaws at unsuspecting people. So, my brother, who by now looked like a pillow case with feet, was nearly drawing blood to my arm. I then managed to defeat the "Dobby" only by running away. Since then, my family has been terrorized by the Dobby only when an unjust act is peformed upon him. Another piece of information is that Paul Tucci is a "ball kicking" fiend. I, being the super hero I am, have adapted various "techniques" to execute my prowess. A small list includes the leech-burn, dika-dika, rica-rica, soft spot smash and the leprachaun bite. Now after Gym class I was performing the dika-dika on Paul and he did a nijakuga kick just to the right of my manhood. I then was accompanied to the nurse with my good friend BFF and I now have a purple bruise. I have also decided to create an independent film with the aid of the Fearsome Foursome and BFF. Cameo appearances will also occur throughout the taping. I have also created another sport. It is called Ultimate Spucket Olympics. I will explain later but let me say this. Bucket, Sponge, Pinkie Ball. 'Nuff said. I also seek Nikes help for a commercial. See ya later...... Sup? I'm back once again. Couple of new things. First of all, I have created the sound sensation known as FABOO. Faboo is basically anything that I say or anything pertaining to vegetables. The previously mentioned BFF has a stomach larger than Cindy Crawford's chest, according to Chim-Chim the Russian monkey. He has also acquired the new names of Chucklin' Sam, Belchin' Bill, and Fartin' Chuck, two of which were thought up by me. My brother, the previously mentioned "Dobby", has now acquired the super-ego of the Grumpus. The Grumpus lives under the rug, looks like a copper penny, silver dime, and golden quarter, all at once. He is also so thin that when he turns sideways he can't be seen at all. My brother also received a pink Barbie Lamborghini for Christmas. My brother is also a faboo artist who wrote the famous song, "Eatin' Maccaroni Better Than Bologna". The song goes as follows: (Sung to the tune of Da-Da-Da-da-da-da) Eatin' maccaroni, better than bologna Maccaroni's good to eat When you're a Grumpus and a pillow case with feet da-ga-doo-goo-daaaaa Pretty cool song, huh? According to Paul Tucci, my best friend Andrew is and I quote, " The fat kid with the pool." Resulting from this is a one-way trip to the moon, a suspension from Andrew's house,and a pot o' cheese. Paul has also been put in time-out at Skateland because of grinding, knocking midgets over, and pulling a dinosaur into the wall. Myself, Andrew, Paul BFF, and Paul Tucci, have now become the New Age Stooges. This occurred when a certain dork named Eli Chaplinsk decided to storm our lunch table and kicked us out. The resulting change was that we sat with the Hackey Sack Homeys. The HSH is a group of grits and skaters who play hakey sack. So, myself,Andrew, and BFF joined their table.Since we were HSH rejects, we assumed the role as the New Age Shemps. The explanation of this is that the New Age Outlaws are members of DX, but are also self-contained unit. Shemp is a member of the Three Stooges who only gained the job due to the death of Curly. So basically, we are a self-contained unit of rejects. This name only lasted about an hour, from which then I adopted the New Age Stooges name. I did this because I was like Curly, Andrew like Moe, BFF like Larry, and Tucci like Shemp. I should also note that Tucci slobbers on his coat. By this time, Tucci was not a full-fledged member of the Fearsome Foursome anymore, having been replaced by BFF. The Shemp name therefore stands for Paul's rejection from the Fearsome Foursome. Therefore, the legend of the NAS was born. That's all for now. Hey, Sup? I am finally back and I got some stuff ta tell ya. First of all, I, the wonderful "leprachaun," have redeemed myself as the victorious champion over the tamer. Now I must tell you that, in a controversial match in which I supposedly "tapped out," I lost my stature as the untamed leprachaun. As a result of this, I saught revenge upon the tamer in which a climatic and short battle ensued. It was a cold winter night while myself, the tamer, and Andrew were watching a particularily interesting Royal Rumble match. As I had planned and informed Andrew, at the middle of the evening I would say, "Gee am I thirsty." After doing this my plan was simple. I was to walk to the kitchen, get a drink, come behind the tamer, whisper in his ear, "The tame is on," and proceed to bite him and score a crucial victory against my rival. And that is exactly how it went. Another thing that has occured is that I have been transfered again to the bowels of school society. The only reason I use "bowels" is because of one boy. Cwis Fuwaton. Er um... Chris Fullerton. This boy is a tormentor. An infidel among a world of scholars. Because of lost interest between the NAS and the HSH, I have been forced to sit at a quaint table inhabited by this horror. In attempts to block the monster from are table, we have employed the use of Pow-Wow. Pow-Wow is a very strange fellow. Not as bad as Fuwaton but a menace to society none the less. So, due to this uncanny change of events, I have been thrown into a mess of freaks who we must trade one for another day in and day out. Talk to ya later... Hey Im back. Just to confirm the rumors, yes I do like Patty Preston. No she does not like me but thats the way it is. I just dont have the guts to ask her out. I have just stumbled upon the fact that I have never once mentioned my neighborhood to you. Now this is very unusual considering that my neighborhood is very strange. It is not really my neighborhood, rather it is my street. When you are coming down Manorfield Rd. you will see a nice little street inhabited by good people. You see wrong. My street is corrupt. Starting down the street, the first house is mine. My dad owns a Lamborghini. The house across the street is the site of a semi-imfamous hostage situation. A certain boy inhabiting our school was taken hostage by his own brother. The standoff lasted about four hours and then he gave up. Going down the road you see a giant pine tree. The house in which the tree resides in front of is Mole's. Mole is a man of about the age of forty who is perverted in every sense. One day, the police recieved a report that Mole had marijuana and came to his house. After entering the police found Mole hidden within mountains of child pornography. Mole's tree is the trash can of the neighborhood. When observing this awesome landfill, I discovered that beneath its enormous branches, at least fifty pounds of trash are stored. Two houses down from Mole is the unique little boy named Michael Grumbach. Michael is a sad little guy. His life consists of torment from every neighborhood persona. You may feel sorry for him. Don't! He is a pervert, brat and a bad mouthed menace. I myself, believe it or not, have kicked his ass at least twice. He deserves it. He has spoken ill of every person to have ever graced the neighborhood. He humps mailboxes (particularily Mole's), beaten up my brother and is an all around bad boy. Moving down to the next court, you see a collective group of assholes and delinquints. The group consists of Nick Glazer, Jeff Cresser, Justin Henry, and Josh the red headed nobody. First Nick. He is just a moron so I'll move on. Jeff. Yes Jeff did kick my ass and I know it. Considering he had more experience in those matters and that he is two years older than me, he should be damn proud of himself. Justin Henry. This kid has red hair, glasses and thinks he is a badass. Nuff' said. The Josh kid also thinks he is a badass but cant act on any of his "gangsta" instincts because he is too damn soft. In the opposite court live Kenny and Danny. Kenny is my friend, I think, and knows how to kick anyones ass. Danny is so damn smart and funny that you cant even believe it. I know he could kick Mikes ass. At the end of the road lives Ike. Ike is a strange black boy who dosent know the meaning of a dollar. I mean hell, he collects Pokemon cards! Thats it. You've met like every one there is to meet on Manorfield road. Cya later! Hey! Whats up? I am making a movie. Yes a movie. This particular form of entertainment will be a chronicle of my life, death and rebirth. A trailer of sorts has already been filmed with the aid of Michael Bukowsky ( the tamer ), Andrew and a crooked digital camera. During a certain Sunday in March, we conspired at Big Mike's house and filmed not only the official trailer, but a parody trailer and the leprachaun taming commercial previously mentioned. By the way, Andrew, aka A-Bomb and Pork Fried Mice, is now a frequent editorialist of sorts on IGN.com's Booty Call section. His pen name is Pork Fried Mice so look for him. I am also going to post a message under an unselected name. I gtg. I know it was short but im sorry. C-ya Yo. SUp? I am letting Andrew edit my webpage. Here goes. Over the past few weeks, Alfeetoe has become involved in a fued with the Pokemon homies and the Rooster Kid. The Pokemon homies are a group of seventh graders who stand outside school in the morning and play Pokemon. Their leader is a particularly asswholic red-haired kid who has taunted Alfeetoe with such barbs as, "How many dicks can you fit in your pants? The answer's none because you don't have one." This was in response to Alfeetoe's humble question of, "How many Pokemon can you fit in a Volkswagon Beetle?" The Rooster Kid is a kid who looks, talks , and walks like a rooster. He has a humongous, Elvis-like head of hair, and walks like a rooster. I should also note that he says he could kill Alfeetoe, the most electrifying Spanish Superhero there ever was, with one punch. Moving on, Alfeetoe visited the nurse's office a few days ago, and this is what he witnessed: Teacher: I'm feeling a bit coonstipated. Nurse: What do you mean? Teacher: My stomach is doing fleep-flups. Nurse: I am going to give you some Tums. Teacher: Whata they? Nurse: A stomach settling medicine. Teacher (looking at Tums): Am I supposed to sallow these? Nurse: No, you chew them. Teacher: Then wha is the wha-a fo? Nurse: The water activates them. Teacher: Ohh...I'm feeling a bit firsty ena-way. Alfeetoe and myself are now regulars on IGN's Booty Call, under the pen-names of A-Bomb aka Pork Fried Mice, and Alfeetoe aka Pimp-in-a-Box aka Green Wiz Oyster aka Boner-Boy. Alfeetoe cannot take credit for this poem, but Alfred Lord Tennasenyone can: Corn beef to the left o me, Corn beef to the right a me, rye bread in fronta me, cheeese comin from behind. And everybody ATE, a sandwhich. Here's a poem Alfeetoe can take credit for: There was a fat cat that I hit with a bat. I hit him so hard that he died in my yard. The cat was my friends. Who shopped in the mens'. He had a fat wife that lived a long life. I told my friend and that was the end. He got real mad and called his dad. When his dad came, he struck with his cane. I lied right there in a pile of hair. This is Andrew sayin C-ya. Hey. I be back. A couple o things gotta be said. First, a tic-tac incident occured the passing Friday. The Pokemon homies and a unique boy in an orange shirt were standing talking about the usual Pokemon junk. I then talked to them in my usual questioning of, "How many Pokemon can you fit in a Volkswagon Beetle?" Then the one boy said, "How many *@#%(peni) can you fit in your mouth?" To which I answered I answered by leaving. The orange-shirted fellow then commented when I later returned, "You're a fag." Then, I offered this boy an orange Tic-Tac by saying, "Would you like a Tic-Tac? It's the one and a half calorie mint!" The orange-shirted kid tried, failed, tried again, and succeeded in knocking the Tic-Tacs fromt he palm of my hand. It is this very incident which I believe later led to a somewhat gay kciking contest between the orange-shirted lad and a quite dufus-looking adolescent whose name is unknown.  This is Space Ghost  These are the RowdyRuff Boyz. Testify!  This is wrestling legend, Doink the Clown All of the above images were made possible by Andrew and his new-found knowledge of HTML. He was using my site as a guinea pig for his posts at the Uncensored Opinions Wrestling Board, which can be seen at www.smackdown.triple-threat.net His posting name is A-Bomb. I have a link to my new site at www.maxpages.com/alfeetoes |
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