-The Gutter, Arizona
Heavy D presented a slapdash Whine and Cheese platter today in the Maricopa Courthouse Grill, in a sad attempt to rival Juan’s perfectly cooked demon goose from yesterday. And Nurmi should never be on Iron Chef as anything more than a garbage disposal, because his pathetic excuse for a closing argument was just homespun whine served with saltines and Cheez-Whiz on a greasy paper plate, and it offended everyone. Moving at the speed of molasses on a glacier, the condescending heffalump pried himself out of his barcalounger just long enough to lull everybody (including Nana Arias) into a semi-coma. And I ran out of margarita mix. Hooray!
According to Heavy D, who operates at the pace of a paralyzed snail, 9 days out of 10 he doesn’t even like Jenny’s stabby My Twinn Doll Jodi. But on the 10th day, she must bring him a sandwich or something, so he’s cool with her murdering someone. But just for that one day.
Nurmi’s thesaurus must be buried with his ethics beneath a mountain of paystubs, because he kept repeating two key phrases until my brain went numb and my ears started bleeding:
1) covert mission
2) doesn’t make sense
I think I just figured out Jenny’s mysterious bald spot; she’s now pulling her hair out after listening to this same crap for the past 5 years.
Speaking of Jenny, let’s hope her Homecoming dress is not tangerine colored, because that shade does not do her any favors. Looking like she had one bong hit too many before court, she sat sullenly at the defense table with an expression that screamed, “F***. My. Life.” I hope she has that Bauhaus CD handy, because she needs a good cry and a long nap.
Stabby was at full attention today while Heavy D pitched her sob story. Jenny took her crayons away and dressed her satanic mini-me in pitch black for closing arguments. Because it’s always a great idea to dress an accused demon in black on Judgment Day and let them shoot death glares at the jury. Two thumbs up, Jenny.
Nurmi invented the word “conversate” today. It is unknown if this word is synonymous with “converse,” but it’s not like it matters, because lawyers aren’t super picky about semantics.
I would rather eat a lightbulb, after giving myself a root canal with a coat hanger, while tapdancing atop a cactus in a room that my dog has hotboxed with farts on Mac-n-Cheez night, than listen to Heavy D finish one more sentence.
Sex, sex, and more talk of raunchy sex for Dirty Nurmi. Was there ever any doubt this was the road he would take? It’s like we’re all psychic.
It appears that Team Cosmonaut is trying to change horses mid-stream. They have casually dumped the self defense theory, and are now humping the leg of the “sudden quarrel” excuse.
Ladies, take notes: if anyone calls you a b*tch, slut, or whore, you are entitled to murder them three times over. So speaketh Nurmi, who ironically makes a living defending violent sex offenders and pedophiles.
According to Heavy D, so concerned was Stabby with protecting Travis’ reputation, that she spent five whole years lying through her teeth in jail before accusing him of pedophilia without a scrap of evidence to prove her claim. Slow clap for the martyr, everyone. Celebrate her bravery.
The jury now has the case, and we are officially on verdict watch.