by Pete Puma

So, I'm at The Riphouse Gym, trainin' this cunt-doctor, and we're talkin' about cunts cause cunts are what he knows the most about since he studied cunts in college so he could become a cunt-doctor or whatever.  He starts tellin' me all this shit I didn't know about hottie-gashes, and since just rememberin' where the keys to my awesome low-rider Civic are is like hard work for me, I asked him to write the shit down so I could carry it around and impress bitches at parties or whatever.

by Pete Puma

There's a new dude at The Rip House these days.  Turns out, this dude, who goes by"Chief Salmon Fingers," is from some place called the mid-west or some shit.  Now, the only fuckers we know from the mid-west are like humungous blobs of blubbery diarrhea who think that sittin' their lard-asses down on a big couch and eatin' Cheetos all day is bein' "into sports" or some shit.  Not this dude though.  Chief Salmon Fingers is like a huge fuckin' monadnock.  This asshole could beat the livin' shit outta a bear or whatever.

Nice work, Butch!

By Pete Puma & Butch Suede

Butch and I are thinkin' about openin' up a fuckin' sandwich shop or some shit, so we decided we were gonna have to make up some "signature sandwiches" or whatever.  Here's what we've got so far.  Add any of  your suggestions in the comments at the end of the article, bitches.