johnnyfive

the sweetest kittens have the sharpest claws, but they're usually drunk and dancing. where perfect madchens mingle with mullets and trucker hats, all overcompensating for a low self esteem or the fear of not being accepted. and there, in that wood paneled stinkhole with strobing lights and thumping bass, there is the shortest, cutest thing this side of philly. i'm not a beer snob, but there was a high life in one hand and a pbr in the other. like the chocolate and vanilla of redneck vogue when it comes to beer. thirty two years in the making, all painted up and sassy. and why does ghost world mom like to gossip so much. now people that don't know anything have heard everything and the world is spinning but not revolving. i also realized that they (and by they i do mean THE MAN) will pick up almost anything you leave out on the curb? trash two days a week, recycling every friday, yard debris on wednesday, and unwanted children that can't wait to be addicted to psych meds and mopingly brag to all their friends about being bi-polar or depressed on tuesdays. there's no one to teach the humans how to play, save for ourselves, and that makes for a poor teacher. treating history like a mentor, we open our hearts and wallets to the sky...