this has been an interesting week. i think i will make a confession.
bLess me fAther for i have sInned.
i have wIllfully and iNtentionally nEglected my journal and by extension you all. and so with no further adieu lets begin the show.
...(trot out those clowns will you)...
this just in buddyboy, that being mr._baxter was recently sited hovering above the tribune building. bystanders were far to willing to testify to the ludicress amounts of beer allegedy swallowed by said bloated wind bag baxter. one reveler quipped
"he just stepped outside for a moment and just sorted floated off. if it had'nt of been for the hour hand of the clock tower he might be in orbit now..."
in fact this champion of the underemployed, this paragon of virtrue, this testament to public education, this monolith of red hot magma, had come simply to pay tribute to what those in the so called knowing call thursday night.
now you don't tug on supermans cape, you don't spit into the wind,
you don't pull the mask off the old lone ranger...
and you don't fuck around with thursday night!
thursday night will eat your liver and inquire if you might have any friends whose liver it might eat as yours has refused the bit and given up the fight. now you might raise a brow, crack wise, andyou might even try and take a poke at thursday night. this is the mistake many foolish mortals make. early on you just order a beer, and one for your friend as well because your feeling magnanimous. things are going well, you have no idea of the force with which you are fucking. you order a few more beers because the dj's pretty goodand before you know it thursday night! has poked you in the nose. your starting to understand the full scope of the bully you have impetously just angered. now you before you know it you feel a little dizzy, light headed, your seeing stars, hell you even kinda feel like one. suddenly someone has just sucked all the oxygen from the room. you stumble for the door and before you know it you have levitated up into a clocktower and pidgeons are making rude comments about your temporary state of affairs.
my heads gonna hurt tomorrow.
bLess me fAther for i have sInned.
i have wIllfully and iNtentionally nEglected my journal and by extension you all. and so with no further adieu lets begin the show.
...(trot out those clowns will you)...
this just in buddyboy, that being mr._baxter was recently sited hovering above the tribune building. bystanders were far to willing to testify to the ludicress amounts of beer allegedy swallowed by said bloated wind bag baxter. one reveler quipped
"he just stepped outside for a moment and just sorted floated off. if it had'nt of been for the hour hand of the clock tower he might be in orbit now..."
in fact this champion of the underemployed, this paragon of virtrue, this testament to public education, this monolith of red hot magma, had come simply to pay tribute to what those in the so called knowing call thursday night.
now you don't tug on supermans cape, you don't spit into the wind,
you don't pull the mask off the old lone ranger...
and you don't fuck around with thursday night!
thursday night will eat your liver and inquire if you might have any friends whose liver it might eat as yours has refused the bit and given up the fight. now you might raise a brow, crack wise, andyou might even try and take a poke at thursday night. this is the mistake many foolish mortals make. early on you just order a beer, and one for your friend as well because your feeling magnanimous. things are going well, you have no idea of the force with which you are fucking. you order a few more beers because the dj's pretty goodand before you know it thursday night! has poked you in the nose. your starting to understand the full scope of the bully you have impetously just angered. now you before you know it you feel a little dizzy, light headed, your seeing stars, hell you even kinda feel like one. suddenly someone has just sucked all the oxygen from the room. you stumble for the door and before you know it you have levitated up into a clocktower and pidgeons are making rude comments about your temporary state of affairs.
my heads gonna hurt tomorrow.
VIEW 25 of 40 COMMENTS
tina:
thats really very sweet of you. xoxo
mistakesmade:
Oh my, my head hurts to much to read that whole thing.... but I do care I promise. xoxox 