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Heiniken Retards and MJ Fox before/after
Sometimes I'm happy, and I'm just too stubborn to admit it.
No meandering evil on a day such as this. Lots of people stayed indoors and tried to keep warm as best they can, belly to belly, or with a jug of moonshine.
Both preferably, if these are my only choices. A fat satchel of weed and some friendly psyilocybins might do nicely, thank you very much.
I am shut in, because the people of this town do not know how to drive in inclement conditions. They are still wired for speed, when its' clearly an endurance contest. Likely the confluence of the transplants and illegal aliens, and that doesn't tango with driving on packed snow.
Mixing with that bad karma is bad business, as they say in the parlance of this ambiguous time, the year ought-one.
So I have the soft core porrn flickering in front of me on a huged assed tv, and a john lee hooker album playing(the result of a convient rifleing of roomies discs.), as i tap out this on my lap-top while sitting on a 1400 dollar leather couch. The fire just died down, and I rest my feet on a 350 dollar coffee table. How long 'til that gets ruined.
It would be cool to admit to myself that I'm happy.
It just doesn't feel honest.
Saw an ad with Michael J Fox for some phone company. That twitchin' motherfucker was all over the goddam place.
It struck me as a ploy. A sideshow of a ploy.
Those manipulative motherfuckers.
Its like seeing a waterhead, and bleating a low cheap crude sadistic laugh, then feeling guilty about it.
Feeling guilty?
Buy our phone shit.
Maybe its not as bad as hawking a case of beer next to downs syndrome, but its on the same list.
Buy Heinekin!
Droolin' mullet-having, beating-its-palms-into-its-head downs syndrome. BUY HEINEKEN!
Horrible, horrible, horrible.
I think I may have just grossed myself out.
That's cool.
Don's most likely going to the hills for the weekend with his chick, and Roomie will be taking his girl to the midnight showing of "Goonies" at the Mayan theatre. I hold back the laughter when I'm in his prescence. She's making him go, and he's actually going.
Goonies is a still hung-over-at-4:00-in-the-afternoon-on sunday-wrapped-in-a-blanket-and-its-cloudy-out type of movie.
Poor fucker.
I had the option of going, and getting fixed up with Rebecca, but no.
Its just not me. Goonies? On a Saturday night? At midnight?
Only if I'm ripped straight to the tits on booze, pot and at least two different psychadelics. Anything less, and it wouldn't be right.
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