So Much Carr There IS No Tomorrow

Frankie has finally gotten over an especially ravenous case of oral herpes. Frank is man on the town and sometimes the town will set your mouth on FIRE! This brutal case of things gone wrong in the mouth has sidelined Francis for a few weeks. He could only be found on the couch with a distant look in his eyes and a straight razor by his side. This case of the doldrums reportedly lasted for several weeks. Unwilling and unable by god's love to even roll onto his other side while laying on the couch has caused some very gruesome very unattractive bed sores. The pus has been running thick across Frankies frail body. After finding enough drive to get up, get into the shower, scrub well with iodine, pop a few Valtrex, and rub Neosporin tenderly apon his body he finally found his inspiration in 3 tall cans of nickle water beer.

Revitalized and herpe free Francis found a pair of red pants, a red blazers, and a will to not give a fuck. Pouring back the shitty booze as fast as a prom baby is tossed into a dumpster, francis found himself again.

If your looking for francis out and about during spring break, you can expect to at least catch him at the catacombs kariokiiiii on wednesday. other wise he will be found on your neighborhood roof drinking and getting a wicked ass tan.

Francis Carr: Total Fucking Sissy!

So ya mutha spat in my soup da udder day. 

Weekend update

Frankie had a busy weekend starting on Thursday. Thursday night Francis was spotted around downtown galavanting with several fine line ladies of a stature way beyond his own. Some how these girls were taking mercy on a man with a terrible stutter, which sits in the shadow of his horrid personality. Either way francis was setting it on fire on thursday night on the dance floor of round midnight, and caught a ride on special transit to a very lucky ladies couch. The night was punctuated with growling and barking noises (obviously the dogs and cats of Francis' sexual youth had managed to rub off on him... so he could rub one off on them.) Friday night Francis made the rounds of some higher social events with a hickey intact. Some how F.P. didn't find himself in too much trouble, but rather shaking his head at the low lifes he calls his best friends. Even the mighty Mr. Carr has nights of doubt of where his monstrously disastrous life is heading. To put it simple Frank could be finding himself in a special part of hell reserved for mongoloids, and abusers of corpses.

Saturday night found francis touting what little talent he has managed to amass. His band the gucci boys put on a show that made every women in the place menstruate simultaneously. This lead francis to rudely proclaim that he could smell every bloody beaver in the place.

At press time Francis had made it to a couch, taken his shoes off, and still manages to sleep with a big shit eating grin on his face.

Good Info equals Good Money (in another dimension)

Any hot leads on gossip regarding Frank Carr will pay dividends. 

F.P. Carr: Markers and Disaster

As a young man Francis Carr was terrified of the thought and smell of his own farts. It is reported that on several different occasions Francis developed his own unique scheme to hide the rank essence of his own body. Mr. Carr would grab up to 6 permanent markers (sometimes as little as 2 markers) and would remove the caps on all of them wafting them in the general direction of his ass-butt. At this point he would let his bowels loose under the delusion the markers covered up the scent of pure evil. What his class mates were left with was a caustic concoction of chemicals and feces overpowering their senses. It brought many to tears, including myself just hearing about this tragic story.

In related Carr news the state of West Virginia made Mr. Carr so excited as a teenager that he shat his pants. This has resulted in a nick name that still haunts Mr. Carr to this day. Simply calling him West Virginia can cause Mr. Carr to go into uncontrollable fits of crying, curling up into a fetal position, and inevitably shitting his pants. 

A few theories have been brought to the table about what caused Carr to be so excited about West Virginia over a decade ago. West Virginia is where his uncle Harry Carr-Martinez lives. Harry has been known to take his nephews to some of the lowest rent whore houses West Virginia has to offer. Some speculate that Francis Carr Lost his virginity to a retarded wino named Violetta during one of his trips to visit uncle Harry. This would inevitable make Carr very excited as to date Francis has only slept with 3 humans and over a dozen animals.

Another theory is that Francis was a die hard fan of the University of West Virginia's Mountaineers athletic department and after the Mountaineers took 2 Big East Championchips during his youth he could not control his bowels while even speaking on the matter.

The truth is in Francis Carr's trivial brain, and no one will ever know the truth as it may have been too traumatic for Francis to ever rehash.

This concludes todays installment of the Carr Report. Until next time shimmy shimmy ram, ram a damn ding dong! 

The Sleep of a Freak

Frank Carr sleeps with a smile on its face, with its shoes on.