"Ask Me What Sick, Horrific Thing Is Going to Happen Next"
10-15 W 12:05 PM
What makes that static? That light night, after the Star Spangled Banner, TV static on the sides of some buildings on a sunny day?
And last night, that audacious lampshade-light moon rising in the copper twilight downtown, the buildings bathed in rose?
I have only ten minutes left to eat my lunch. I hope it's ready soon. I came to Fatburger because I had a coupon, even though I could have wisely had just popcorn and an apple for lunch.
What the hell else?
10-16 Th 11:41 AM
Don't really feel like doing this today.
10:15 PM
At Renee's. Thing says there's a "Fuck-of-the-Week" web page. Last week was a woman with pubic hair all up her stomach. "Yikes!" he yells. "I think we should call in a napalm strike."
"Ask me what horrific, sick thing is going to happen next?"
Thing says he's trying to live a monastic lifestyle.
A woman's spine...
"If I stop masturbating, will I have bigger balls?" I asked. I mostly wondered if I'd be braver when it came to talking to women, but I held my hands apart as if I were talking about the size of a trout that got away.
Thing said masturbation was lo-tech virtual reality.
I spotted a girl who looks like Lois Lane. I said, "Thing, get that girl to sit down with us."
He said, "You do it."
I realized if they sat with us, I'd go from little-to-say to nothing-to-say. I looked at her again. "She's probably stupid," I said.
Later I said, "I think I'm impotent." I wiped a big snotty booger under the table. When I'm famous, people will seek this table out. Table in the northwest corner of the main bar; yellowish booger. Then I dipped my fingers in my Scotch and soda and ran it through my hair, and dabbed a little on my neck under my ears.
Thing says his blood alcohol level constitutes that he's a like a walking Miller Lite.
Satan worships me.
What makes that static? That light night, after the Star Spangled Banner, TV static on the sides of some buildings on a sunny day?
And last night, that audacious lampshade-light moon rising in the copper twilight downtown, the buildings bathed in rose?
I have only ten minutes left to eat my lunch. I hope it's ready soon. I came to Fatburger because I had a coupon, even though I could have wisely had just popcorn and an apple for lunch.
What the hell else?
10-16 Th 11:41 AM
Don't really feel like doing this today.
10:15 PM
At Renee's. Thing says there's a "Fuck-of-the-Week" web page. Last week was a woman with pubic hair all up her stomach. "Yikes!" he yells. "I think we should call in a napalm strike."
"Ask me what horrific, sick thing is going to happen next?"
Thing says he's trying to live a monastic lifestyle.
A woman's spine...
"If I stop masturbating, will I have bigger balls?" I asked. I mostly wondered if I'd be braver when it came to talking to women, but I held my hands apart as if I were talking about the size of a trout that got away.
Thing said masturbation was lo-tech virtual reality.
I spotted a girl who looks like Lois Lane. I said, "Thing, get that girl to sit down with us."
He said, "You do it."
I realized if they sat with us, I'd go from little-to-say to nothing-to-say. I looked at her again. "She's probably stupid," I said.
Later I said, "I think I'm impotent." I wiped a big snotty booger under the table. When I'm famous, people will seek this table out. Table in the northwest corner of the main bar; yellowish booger. Then I dipped my fingers in my Scotch and soda and ran it through my hair, and dabbed a little on my neck under my ears.
Thing says his blood alcohol level constitutes that he's a like a walking Miller Lite.
Satan worships me.
Labels: a little funny, a little poetic
posted by johnz at 12:19 PM
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