so. it appears t-town is 1-0 in getting me back, yet again. i will bring you down, tallahassee. the most amusing aspect of all this is the inherent ability of the local townsfolk to destroy my sympathy in humanity. only to get in a smaller, more embarassing motorized vehicle upon entering wal-mart, after driving miles to reach aforementioned destination in an obscene mechanical monstrosity of gas-guzzling power, the people of tallahassee.
i must go, to not only celebrate with the friends back home, but to eat a 30 inch pizza at a reasonable price with dollar fifty pbr looming close by. but not immediately. my liver and body are reeling from the abusive pitchers from last night. however, i'll go out on a limb and proclaim that bud (the beer) is to blame for all this, most vile firewater hitherto known to hombres everywhere. hence, large bottles of atlanta water can cure me of my situation.
the ability to reason is sharp, my sleep was a thorough ten hours, and i'm looking forward to a brief but bitter departure from the atlanta life. a quick scan of the place suggests i have little to worry about except the turkey rotting in the fridge and a few other misc. vegetables that are currently contained. a orange must be eaten today, one must be taken with me, and hopefully the two that remain will not be destroyed by father time. ideally, i should make myself a turkey sandwich, but i'm not in the mood for one so it'll have to rot, the poor bastard. instead i'll have a chicken wrap, mexican style, with nice trimmings and various cheeses. potentially, i should bag up a turkey sandwich for my journey, but this may not be a neccessary expenditure of energy. of course, i always get hungry around tifton, so i may as well bag it up and be done with it. i would take three oranges with me, but the problem is the mess generated by scalping an orange on the side of the freeway. paper towels won't cut it, the sugary madness deep within the pores of my hand. i can't risk wasting my travel water on such a task, either, so the third orange stays at home.
a brave but impotent man once told me, "son, you are like a pack of playing cards. we all know what the cards are, but we always get dealt a different hand each time."
so, unless i'm compelled to hide this mildly pornographic website on my parent's computer (via dail-up, still, nonetheless) i suppose i won't be wasting a few kilobytes on some random server, my words never to be read and completely irrelevant to the tide of the daily viewer or passerby.
so long, for now!
i must go, to not only celebrate with the friends back home, but to eat a 30 inch pizza at a reasonable price with dollar fifty pbr looming close by. but not immediately. my liver and body are reeling from the abusive pitchers from last night. however, i'll go out on a limb and proclaim that bud (the beer) is to blame for all this, most vile firewater hitherto known to hombres everywhere. hence, large bottles of atlanta water can cure me of my situation.
the ability to reason is sharp, my sleep was a thorough ten hours, and i'm looking forward to a brief but bitter departure from the atlanta life. a quick scan of the place suggests i have little to worry about except the turkey rotting in the fridge and a few other misc. vegetables that are currently contained. a orange must be eaten today, one must be taken with me, and hopefully the two that remain will not be destroyed by father time. ideally, i should make myself a turkey sandwich, but i'm not in the mood for one so it'll have to rot, the poor bastard. instead i'll have a chicken wrap, mexican style, with nice trimmings and various cheeses. potentially, i should bag up a turkey sandwich for my journey, but this may not be a neccessary expenditure of energy. of course, i always get hungry around tifton, so i may as well bag it up and be done with it. i would take three oranges with me, but the problem is the mess generated by scalping an orange on the side of the freeway. paper towels won't cut it, the sugary madness deep within the pores of my hand. i can't risk wasting my travel water on such a task, either, so the third orange stays at home.
a brave but impotent man once told me, "son, you are like a pack of playing cards. we all know what the cards are, but we always get dealt a different hand each time."
so, unless i'm compelled to hide this mildly pornographic website on my parent's computer (via dail-up, still, nonetheless) i suppose i won't be wasting a few kilobytes on some random server, my words never to be read and completely irrelevant to the tide of the daily viewer or passerby.
so long, for now!
