Ah hets Van Morrison. Please god, won’t someone make her stop playing Into the Mystic? Please? PLEASE?

I want to rock your gypsy soul my Aunt Fanny. Van Morrison ain’t no rocker, Van Morrison is a CHEESER. Cheesiest music that has ever crossed the Boogie’s ears.

Boogie don’t want no Van Morrison. Boogie wants something classy and soothing. Give me some of that Poison. Every rose has its thorn. INDEED.

Later, stupids.

Ah hets allergies. They makes me squint and makes my eye leak. Boogie don’t like leaking eyes; they detract from the Badass Awesomeness of the Boogie.

Stupid pollen. Stupid dry weather.

Later, stupids.

Ah hets rain.

Rain, rain, go away. Boogie wants to go out and play.

Later, stupids.

In a house with two humans and WAY TOO MANY cats, there’s always someone IN MY SPACE. All a Boogie wants is to be left alone, is that too damn much to ask? Hanging out in my box reflecting upon life’s many highways and byways? Someone has to climb ON TOP of my sacred alone time? WHY?

Ah hets people all up in my shit, especially Joe Bob. Joe Bob brings out the super hetred in my soul.

Ah hets bottled water. What the hell is the point of putting WATER in a BOTTLE and then toting it around like a self-important water-needing idiot? Like “Oh gasp, I must have my water with me at all times or I will gets dehydrated and die!”?

Boogie don’t need no bottled water. Boogie just drinks water out of the toilet and if there ain’t no toilet around, Boogie just slurps it right up out of any ol’ puddle.

But Boogie ain’t no pansy-ass bottled-water-toting pansy.

Later, stupids.

It’s too damn hot up in this shit. I’m wearing a fur coat 24/7. Boogie don’t like to sweat.

AH HETS GLOBAL WARMING.

Later, stupids.