Honest Conversation Is Overrated
Actual Human Interactions Witnessed Or Overheard
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
In Twentieth And Twenty-First Century America
(as I'm pouring a coke in the kitchen)
Big Gay Rich: Have you been by table #42? Me: Yes, it's my table. Big Gay Rich: Oh, do you know them? Me: No, why? Big Gay Rich: I think the boy at position three is hot. Me: Dude! He ordered from the children's menu!!!
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The asshole sauntered in the room at 5:00 a.m. No crickets in sight. I knew he had been sitting at the computer for hours, when he should have been out hunting down crickets. I let him sleep for an hour or so before I began my revenge. Stare. Stare. Stare. At 6:15 his eyes open, he watches me watch him, then rolls over to go back to sleep. At 6:20, he rolled back over and watched me watch him some more. At 6:30 he opened up the freeze dried crickets and poured a few in my cage. Like I'd ever stoop to eating fdcs from the food rock. He tried hand feeding me one, but I bit his pinky. He laughed at me. God, I wish I had teeth. He tried to go back to sleep again, but he kept opening his eyes to check and see what I was doing. Stare. Stare. Stare. At around 7:00 he picked me up and let me climb over his arms and shoulders for about ten minutes. I crawled into his armpit and then shook my head viciously. I knew he had showered just a couple of hours before, but Taylor Mali told me I was to make him really insecure about everything possible. He'll probably shower four times before he leaves the house, and then spray two bottles worth of deoderant on himself when he gets to The Bowery Club. He tried putting me in my cave again when he put me away, but I stuck my head out the side closest to his bed. Stare. Stare. Stare. At 7:30 he flipped me off. I moved to the other side of the cave, and perched my head on top of a rock. Stare. Stare. Stare. At around 8:00 he picked me up again, and carried me into the computer room. I dug my claws into his neck, and made him type an entry about how shitty his morning was going. Then I crawled on the desk, and when he was just about finished, I stepped on the mouse, I had moved the arrow over the Friends page, so his entire entry disappeared. Stupid fuck. At 8:30 he picked me up and put me back in the cage. Then he picked up the cage, and moved it into the far corner of the room. But now he wouldn't be able to sleep. He would toss and turn wondering if I was staring at him (I was...at least, I was every time he checked). At 9:15 he gave up and went back to his computer. He thinks he's writing an update about last night's Cantab. Moron. I'm staring at him right now, through the wall. In a few minutes, he'll try to go back to sleep, but it won't work. Stare. Stare. Stare.
"...it's like you jump of the side of a building to commit suicide, and just as you go over the edge you realize 'this is a mistake,' and promise yourself you will never make a mistake like this again. It's a wonderful realization, but gravity is going to have its way with you, anyway."
The big heap of dung that refers to itself as The Boston Archdiocese is at it again. They are making a public plea to ban all gay marriages. I guess they figure this way they won't be forced to marry the ten year old altar boys they've been molesting. "Jimmy, it's not that I don't want to be committed to you, it's just that legally, I can't. Now bend over and light the candles."
"Ideas are like children; there are none so wonderful as your own."
Four out of the six lucky numbers are numbers of houses that I used to live in, and they're the good four (Windsor, CT the 2 places I lived in in Sandwich, MA and Quincy, MA). If Dorchester or Burlington had shown up, I would have turned this into confetti. I place a lot of stock in fortune cookies with accurate lucky numbers. The last one I kept was from a Chinese place in Burlington. I was on my way to Kinko's to print out the very first copies of "feeling elvis" and the fortune cookie said "You will write a book some day." I think i still have it in a box somewhere (provided it wasn't MelissaPlummerized). In other exciting food news, the 7-11 has finally given up on selling peach flavored Propel Fitness Water (Peach flavored??? yucK). THe new kiwi/strawberry is nearly as good as the berry and the lemon. That was one of the most boring sentences I've ever written. No, wait, that one was. |
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