Less fat Peter Jackson

Mango chutney

Look at Peter Jackson. Look how slim and angular he was at the King Kong premiere. Is it just me or did he look like a svelte Sachin Tendulkar? Oh Sachin, you can take a bat to my googly anytime. And then stick it right in my gaand. I would let him bowl at my wicket if you know what I mean. But of course you have no idea because you ignorant bhen chods have no culture. And by culture I mean bacterial culture, like the yogurt my brother Sanjay is so fond of. The point is that Peter Jackson went on an all-chutney diet at the behest of his spiritual guru, Apni Ma Ko Ja Choos. Look how much weight he lost as a result of this fine Indian condiment. Chutney is truly a gift from Shiva. Or Kali. Or Dhanwantari. Fuck you! There are a lot of Hindu gods ass fuckers! How am I, a modest girl from a Bangalore shanty, to know which god is the deity of chutney? Perhaps if my shameful call center job did not demand so much of my time, I could devote myself more to spirituality. For now, my feces Ganesha will have to suffice. Eat chutney or suffer the consequences you pack of sali kutas. King Kong is just a big black monkey. Just like that negro fellow from The Green Mile.

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She can fly planes and she eats pussy, adopts AIDS babies, wrecks homes and hates her dad. Is there anything this woman can’t do? I don’t know if flying a plane means a bitch is a lesbian, or if a bitch who adopts more babies than Rosie O’Donnel is a man-hating dyke…but I do remember when I used to hang out with a group of bull-dykes, the kind who used to shave their faces, trying to get more moustache than me, while wearing leather caps and cut off vests. They never let me fuck them, even though they liked me, it had to do with being molested and having mean male figures in their lives, but one night when we were all high on speed, they let me jerk off while they made out. That’s when I used to get boners.

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Do you ever think that celebs hire their own photographers to act as paparzzi to boost their self esteem. I think all paparazzi is just hired by the PR people behind the celebs and in reality, they are all a whole group of friends, laughin’ at you for feeling sorry about invading their fucking privacy. It’s a marketing tool motherfuckers, and you all fell for it. That said, I used to have a team of photographers follow me around. It was actually my friend Leroy and a group of people from the psychiatric hospital doing some type social integration project. They didn’t actually have real cameras, just pillows, so I guess I didn’t really ever have a team of photographers follow me around, but they thought they were, so that’s half points, FUCKER.

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Not all sex dolls are Jewish and Muslim, some are also Christian and celebrate Christmas with their psycho lonely owners. I was always uncomfortable with the thought of a man and doll in any type of relationship, but now that I know they open presents together on Christmas morning makes me it all okay. It’s the season of giving. I am not drinking tonight and my body’s askin’ me why. It’s called no money you fucking useless liver, why don’t you go out and get a fucking job if drinking means so much to you. That was me yelling at my liver.

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I am only posting this to show all you celebrity blog reading motherfuckers how useless you are. So the bitch wears glasses, who gives a fuck. Does this really get you excited, or add meaning to your worthless life? I am more interested in the fact that she killed some animal for it’s tail and didn’t kill herself. I also find her blotchy orange cheeks, from trying to bleach out her freckles, really sexy. I once dated a girl with Liver Disease, she was all Jaundiced up and shit. It was like having sex with a Simpson. That’s all I remember of that story.

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I just wanted to say that I am pretty happy with all the comments my girl Priti’s been getting. I am glad that all 3 of you readers have accepted her into your home like you have accepted me, which isn’t saying all that much, considering you would probably never let me babysit your kids, and that’s really all I am in this for. NO, I am not a pedophile, I just like playing with stuffed animals. I realize it’s not like you will ever have kids, there is something called “science” that doesn’t allow virgins to knock bitches up. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I found a myspace profile of a dude pitching a boner-tent in his boxers, that in itself was funny enough, but turns out this Iraqi also jerks off on pictures of girls and posts those pictures. This is some serious sexual dysfunction that I don’t understand, but I am sure all you can relate to it, so I asked him for an interview and to cum on a pic of my man tits. I am still waiting for a response.

Visit This Dude’s Myspace Here

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Zhang Ziyi

Michelle Yeoh

Dumb jap asshole

Some chink whore

Another chink whore

People are going insane for this preposterous Memoirs of a Geisha film. Just look at all these happy yellow people at the premiere with their squinty slanty happy eyes. You would think it was Diwali or something. Why does America love little Japanese whores? I for one would rather see Ab Tumhare Hawale Watan Sathiyo with Amitabh Bachchan and Akshay Kumar. Oh Akshay. If only you could ride a white elephant to Bangalore and sweep me away from my call center and insolent supervisor Vikramjeet. I have no doubt that your shorn brown scrotum is as sweet as jalebi, perhaps with more wrinkles. These dumb yellow sluts are not even worthy enough to drink the urine of Vishnu. I wish they would make a Bollywood version of this movie and cast Rani Mukherjee. She is so fair. I would love to penetrate her anus with a hot onion bhaji and smear mint raita all over her labia. Please do not misunderstand. I would not do this of my own free will but because my uncle the yogi would force me at kirpan point to do it. He is very unstable and likes to threaten newborn calfs. Just please promise me you will not see this stupid film. Brown skin is better than yellow.

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It may seem ludicrous to you deadbeats that I pray to a hybrid elephant human creature but then again, the drunk Mexican in charge here prays to a goat with a large anal abcess. So mock my culture if you like. Just because I dry rub my virginal girl area with pungent spices is no reason to disgrace my heritage with your slander. All I have is my call center job in an industrial park in Bangalore, a three hour walk from the poor shanty where I dwell with my parents, five brothers and sisters and uncle. My uncle is not even my real uncle, just a psychotic old yogi who contorts his body in erotic positions while I stroke my tender clitoris under my sari. He eats daal all day and refuses to kill the ants and rats which live under my meager cot. All he ever gave me was a sculpture of sweet Ganesha that he fashioned from his own feces. I treasure it to this day and keep it under my desk at my horrible call center job. It smells of turmeric. My parents told me they will never find a man who will marry a girl with a feces Ganesha but I think they are wrong. Perhaps in America I will find such a man.

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Thanks to social services and the work program I was a part of, I landed myself a pretty fucking shitty computer. Being from Mexico and having a childhood that consisted mainly of playing with mud, donkies and wrestling masks, I was never really taught how to fix shitty computers. Mexicans aren’t tech support, we are garderners. Lucky for me, I call this 1-800 number to try and get my shit fixed, and I am forwarded to some Indian bitch, dot not feather, named Priti Sharma. She ends up telling me her life story about some upcoming arranged marriage and her life in Bangalore. I tell her about my site, that I don’t know what Bangalore is, and that I love eating pussy and it turns out she’s a fucking fan. I told her I want some culture on here, cuz all you cunts bore me, and she agreed to write for me. So, DrunkenStepfather.com officially has some brown estrogen on the scene. If she sucks at this, deal, she’s not from around here, and remeber, all her people are stealing your jobs, not because they are better than you, but because they are cheaper. Cuddles.

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This is a couple of weeks old, but I am not known for speed, especially when it comes to running away from the cops, delivering pizza, or moppin’ floors. Even if I do a ball of meth, I just crack out in the corner. I aint down with being speedy. So I come across Pam Anderson’s battered face two weeks later than everyone else with a blog, only because I dont read other blogs, so I got no idea what’s happening. I wouldn’t want to sacrifice my ignorance.

I always like being reminded that girls don’t keep their looks forever. All the pretty girls from my Highschool in Texas who wouldn’t let me get all up in them are probably obese bitches with droopy faces and miserable lives. Makes me feel good about eating out girl’s their daughters ages. Pam Anderson used to be a bitch we all wanted to fuck/jerked off to/watched suck off Tommy in the car and on the boat, now she’s lookin’ more like someone we’d only fuck with the lights off, who am I kidding, I keep thinking you punks actually get laid. It’s obvious that at this stage in the game – you are in no position to say no to a vagina, cuz let’s face it, pussy is pussy, and you can’t stay a virgin forever.
It’s funny how life works.

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