Air Out My Shorts

Buttons stalks The Word Whore's Aunt. The Word Whore stalks James Purefoy. Life clocks are a lie. Carousel is a lie. Hair sniffing has never seemed so dirty. No one has to die at 30!

Buttons clenches. The Word Whore drifts. Jon and Scott still need tetanus shots, after pummel-assing a short hyena. Hashashan boom-boom-pows a buddy for a teriyaki tongue sandwich.

The Word Whore chastises children and smites sunflowers. Brian Lieberman offers a burnt sacrifice and snuffs a bush. Preston would sow some seeds, but he lacks the constant flow of nutrients to his stem.

Canada is big. Keith McNally gets a chance. Starman serves up a mean bottle of Mad Dog 20/20. Buttons is forced to find his voice, because The Word Whore's is infected.

With or without professional dancing bugs, Buttons might get old before he dies. The Word Whore Shatners all over Francis Scott Key and his little internet pimp too.

Buttons and The Whore suffer a minor story stroke and accidentally rehash Hashashan (complete with identical banter, all these "years" later). Thankfully, BDOOMED is on hand with the vaseline to help put it away wet... again.

Those who can't do, teach. Those who can't teach, counsel. Oh, the ironing! The Whore has sketchy memories of her noisy chinese roomate's strap-ons. Nobilis throws a hen party: pack a lunch, BYO (juice) Box.

The Word Whore likes it white and floppy. Dustin Manly loves to waggle his fishy bits, but finds it rather hard to smile with his pants down. Buttons takes an octuple shhhhhhh and swims in it.

Fancy butt bling settles Preston's upset stomach. The Word Whore (clearly under the influence of agrarian pharmaceuticals and cheese) plunders Hashashan's village, pillages the faux French Bible, and puts it all away wet.

Last call for monkeyishness! Buttons, well into his first trimester, fails to get the creative juices flowing under the tell-tale black-light. Doc Zim endeavors to erupt and fill the bag, just to hear The Whore gasp for air.

Keith McNally's quest for beaver is not unpleasant. AoMS wins the Nobilis prize. The Word Whore exercises her squatter's rights, Buttons stares at goats, and somebody (outside of New York) definitely sucks.

Buttons plays with his shortwave radio. Mike Dominic pulls a spoonful of "McGonegal" out of his carpet bag. The Word Whore learns Navaho in hopes of becoming another numbered honey-glazed ham smuggler.

Buttons gets caught spooning at the movie theatre. Aria Solomon visits the doctor and opens wide. Some fishy broads lure porn-stars to their payload, while Ancient Egyptians car-jack The Word Whore's brain.

88 Fingers Willy delivers the mail. AOMS is forced to settle for General Eley's sloppy seconds, in lieu of stories, and user-submitted urine samples, in lieu of cash. The Whore is finally put out to pasture.

Buttons strays from his flock. The Word Whore makes an offering to the porcelain god. Doc Zim forces Ryan Saunders to wear flip-flops in Hell. The Right Rev Chumley bathes in sacramental wine.

Buttons jacks up a healthy spike, despite technical difficulties. AOMS exhumes Phil Foster. After having completely blown her roving reporter role, The Whore passes out under a warm Amish soap box.

The Word Whore soaks the final frontier. An Entertainment Troupe tries to change the station, but falls into a prophesied void. Send AOMS your stories. Jazz hands. Cha.

Buttons continues to reject all signs of the apocalypse. Brian Lieberman cries out for a bloody coffee break. Against all odds, AOMS's four-year fungal infection persists.

Preston Buttons spews his seedy secrets, while The Whore blows her own horn. Creepy or not, Graham from Canada chooses double-entry and a veritable flood of AoMS hotline callers are foiled again.

AoMS runs away from the circus to relive prepubescent glory days. Preston asks Marianne Faithfull for his bum back. The Whore is perplexed by elective sex. Sir Michael's "LUST" gets a hands-down "thumbs up", although it might be best for Buttons to "tuck it away for awhile".