Listen to music, cover your wang
Right here, Kristin Hersh sheds light on corporate monkeys and makes a lucid analogy in support of spreading music to ears. I haven’t yet read the NPR article she links because, for reasons unknown to me, I am not allowed to access NPR at work. National Porn Radio? I don’t know. I can access all sorts of blogs referencing all manner of crass, but a web site offering me world and national news and culture is off limits.
Later on I found this comic at Flak Magazine (linked at side). Finally I beat myself silly. There is much work to do and I was taking every spare second going back to these comics. It would be an unfortunate instance were slippage to occur. Dear Dr., Please revise your above-titled article on the relationship between hypersomnolence and your astronaut sex-ninja wife. This is the one that tipped me over. Read this if you’re feeling dirty, which apparently I was. Read this if you’re a twisted motherfucker, which apparently I am, though I shan’t boast. Join the fun. Eat thousand-year-old black eggs that smell like concentrated cat urine and taste like nothing comparable to anything. Transcend this world.
During the weekend, my roommate and I drove to get bagels with lox and cream cheese. For a third time, I was allowed into the bagel place at closing time, after all bagels had been put away. I don’t know why this is; I didn’t even get pushy or pull out my pistol. Afterward—I the driver and he the passenger—headed toward K-Mart for panties and wrapping paper. Part-way there—at 40 mph—my roommate, having decided he wasn’t interested in either panties or paper, opened the door and dropped out. In the rearview mirror I watched him bounce head over ass down the road. Turns out he’s made of rubber.
Later on I found this comic at Flak Magazine (linked at side). Finally I beat myself silly. There is much work to do and I was taking every spare second going back to these comics. It would be an unfortunate instance were slippage to occur. Dear Dr., Please revise your above-titled article on the relationship between hypersomnolence and your astronaut sex-ninja wife. This is the one that tipped me over. Read this if you’re feeling dirty, which apparently I was. Read this if you’re a twisted motherfucker, which apparently I am, though I shan’t boast. Join the fun. Eat thousand-year-old black eggs that smell like concentrated cat urine and taste like nothing comparable to anything. Transcend this world.
During the weekend, my roommate and I drove to get bagels with lox and cream cheese. For a third time, I was allowed into the bagel place at closing time, after all bagels had been put away. I don’t know why this is; I didn’t even get pushy or pull out my pistol. Afterward—I the driver and he the passenger—headed toward K-Mart for panties and wrapping paper. Part-way there—at 40 mph—my roommate, having decided he wasn’t interested in either panties or paper, opened the door and dropped out. In the rearview mirror I watched him bounce head over ass down the road. Turns out he’s made of rubber.
9 Comments:
was this Tom bouncing down 206?
Anonymous, go eat some cookies.
Melissa--no, the other roommate and not down 206. He's fine. Really, he's fine.
finnegan, are you on hot furry crack? by the way, i've been visiting your Waking Finnegan blog. little time or mind to comment those times, but i like those words you write. a rather twisted picture of a girl there still blinks at me periodically.
Well Sara, I'm usually interested in panties, so if you brought me along on the excursion I wouldn't exit mid-trip. Mmmmmm, I miss East Coast bagels almost as much as I miss East Coast pizza.
hiya sara.
good to see you're getting out and about to some interesting sites. strange stories too. nice. x
I didn't know a "misconception" was that these eggs were fermented with horsepiss! I'll be sure to include that in my description of the food next time.
Regarding previous post, I don't think I'd trust that hippie trio enough to let 'em in. But then I'd carry the burden of guilt from my suspicion for many many years.
Hi Kim--the Midwest doesn't really know what a bagel is. I learned this when I moved to Jersey.
Good to see you, Benjamin. Yes, trying to use my brain instead of getting lost in daytime drudgery.
glomgold. horspiss. gross. I don't know--am I allowed to be free from that guilt considering I still felt suspicious of the trio...
finnegan--do I like discopants? sometimes I wear them on my head because I can't get enough of them. thanks for linking me. by all means I'll join in the fun. what else is the point but joinin' in fun. thanks for loving the hole.
love - the hole
finnegan, i thought your original comment rather bizarre, a tad racy. i recognized your name, though, i thought maybe from transience's site. if i hadn't i probably would have left a boiling retort. instead i decided to gloss over the furry snatch and visit your site to see if you were the name i recognized. like Twin Peaks, there's always a twisted story lying under everything. that's funny. you're totally forgiven.
haha, wonderful verbal swordplay here. strange how i actually like eating the old, smelly chinese eggs. we call them century eggs here and i order them from one (and only one) restaurant. the others cannot be trusted. i think they sell porcelain vases, too. bad to mix eggs and porcelain, really. bad for the skin.
verbal swordplay...i like that. and--century eggs. that's nice too. you like them--that's great. we have five left at the house. i s'pose i'll give it another whirl.
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