the present
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The Mafia Incident: Me, against a wall. Your firm grip on my shoulder holding me there. Your voice, assertive, dominant and demanding. Smoldering looks ensue. Humor.
“Wait a minute…THIS ISN’T KENASTON!!!”
Benetits.
“Boobage…is that a word?”
“A hat? Wow, I’ve never thought of that. A hat in the way.”
Pathetic. But sweet.
“Will you do me a favor…can you teach me how to golf? Golf is an easier sport? Damn, that means you’re a quitter, so there’ll be less touching.”
“A RAQUETTE? OH, so THAT’S what you call it now?”
oh. OH. SO NOW. NOW ________________ (insert appropriate self-insult)
ICEW.
“I want your labcoat in a PLASTIC BAG. ALL THE TIME. GOT IT?...Sorry.”
“I’m a leader of tomorrow!” *Looks around* “TODAY!”
“You’re a tease. It’s almost…seductive.”
“That kind of training…that’s light years beyond me.”
Whipped.
“First, they introduced each other, THEN. They got intimate. They numbed the area, he pulls out this huge, HOT chef knife and WWWWWWHACK! They just CHOP IT OFF! THE WHOLE DAMN THING! And then the hot blade cauterizes all the arteries shut, burning the blood inside INSTANTLY with its heat, so he doesn’t bleed to death. THEN. They toss it in a pan on medium heat with some butter, seasoning and onions, whip up a flame, cut it up into tiny little pieces with razor sharp steak knives, share the shriveled little meal together, forking each bite into their greedy mouths, then he stabs him to death, cuts him up, puts him in his freezer, and continues to eat him.”
Banana arteries.
“Hi!” – “UGH. Asshole.”
“I know her e-mail.” – “ No you don’t.” – “Yes I do.” – “What is it?” - *states e-mail* “OH.”
“Can I touch your skirt?”
hhhokay. - Monday, May. 03, 2004 - 7:50 a.m.
back to the meaningless... - Friday, Apr. 30, 2004 - 10:28 a.m.
YAAAY! - Tuesday, Apr. 27, 2004 - 9:11 p.m.
NOH! - Monday, Apr. 26, 2004 - 11:03 p.m.
hallucinogenic - Sunday, Apr. 25, 2004 - 12:56 a.m.
Instead of studying for finals, what about just going to the Bahamas and catching some rays? Maybe you'll flunk, but you might have flunked anyway; that's my point.
If you ever crawl inside an old hollow log and go to sleep, and while you're in there some guys come and seal up both ends and then put it on a truck and take it to another city, boy, I don't know what to tell you.
A good way to threaten somebody is to light a stick of dynamite. Then you call up the guy and hold the burning fuse to the phone. "Hear that?" you say. "That's dynamite, baby."
Next Thanksgiving, here is a fun trick to play: When the mashed potatoes and turkey are being served, take some of both. But hide your turkey under your mashed potatoes. When your family asks "Don't you want some turkey?," pull the turkey out from under the mashed potatoes and yell "I tricked you!!"
The memories of my family outings are still a source of strength to me. I remember we'd all pile into the car - I forget what kind it was - and drive and drive. I'm not sure where we'd go, but I think there were some trees there. The smell of something was strong in the air as we played whatever sport we played. I remember a bigger, older guy we called "Dad." We'd eat some stuff, or not, and then I think we went home. I guess some things never leave you.
Probably the worst thing about having King Kong go rampid in your town would be the huge, monster genitalia.
As the evening sky faded from a salmon color to a sort of flint gray, I thought back to the salmon I caught that morning, and how gray he was, and how I named him Flint.
I can still recall old Mister Barnslow getting out every morning and nailing a fresh load of tadpoles to the old board of his. Then he'd spin it round and round, like a wheel of fortune, and no matter where it stopped he'd yell out, "Tadpoles! Tadpoles is a winner!" We all thought he was crazy. But then we had some growing up to do.
If when you die you get a choice between pie heaven and regular heaven, choose pie heaven. It might be a trick but if not mmmboy