this time your momma wont be able to save you.
this time your momma wont be able to save you.
you fixin to retire soon?
what do you think about ashley and tony.
same ole same ole. i take a drink every time they break up.
why doesnt he just make her his girlfriend and get it over with?
i think he likes someone else.
oh, her. shit.
hell i’d wait around for that shit.
dude, did you see fragrant’s latest photo essay?
of course, i lurve her.
what happens if it turns out shes not a anorexic ex fashion model after all and really a three hundred pound dude?
i guess that would make us gay.
did you see the one she did in october?
yes. im telling you. i’m all about that psycho killer.
qu’est-ce que c’est?
did you see hbo do that nice little tony tribute to get his readers to buy his book?
why are vous parleying en francais n shit?
can you believe the Vodka Pundit gets so many hits and he barely writes anything?
how do you know he gets a bunch of hits?
watch what happens when he links to the busblog, people flood like crazy. its amazing.
maybe he gets lots of hits cuz people keep seeing if he’s written anything.
no, he gets a lot of hits, trust me. tons. and he normally writes a bunch more.
it’s that picture. ladies love the blog of a handsome man.
then why does tony get so many hits?
sometimes popularity knows no reason. ask the bush family.
i had a nightmare last night.
i dreampt that bush beat gore in ’04, honestly this time, and then jeb ran for it in ’08.
the most likeable bush of them all.
life is pretty much over, isnt it.
god, i really hope so.
and i knew my boss was going to get on my case and i wondered if i should tell him the truth when he would ask me why i was late.
would i lie and say subway problems?
or would i tell the truth which is blonde girl showed up on my doorstep at 2am. the shoes that she came to retrieve were nicely packed into a box next to the satellite dish. in the box was a magazine with her favorite band on the cover and under the magazine was a tape of an hour of her favorite actress on it.
i might not ever talk to you if i break up with you, but if theres a box on a doorstep from me to you, odds are theres probably gonna be some good shit in it.
unfortunately, like most things, this made her cry.
she cried and knocked on my door. tap tap tap tap.
i snored peacefully.
bang bang bang bang.
more snoring. very little can wake me from my slumber. its the only time this haunted mind can stop dreaming and talking and rest. and when it rests it shuts off completely.
however, the nice woman who lives upstairs can be woken from her slumber.
disturbed, she got up and went to her balcony and her hardwood floors squeaked and somehow i woke.
knock knock knock knock.
i went to the door, turned on the porch light, opened the door. daisy princess sobbing. can i hug you she asked.
did you guys see giselle last night when the protesters hopped on the catwalk? she didn’t miss a beat. every step she made was exactly the step she would have taken if no one was there. my visitor never blinked.
i allowed the twenty year old into the home. let her hug my back. i turned off the porch light. shut the door. went back to bed and quieted the disturbance that my neighbor was experiencing.
perhaps this isn’t what a pro would do. and obviously im no expert on women. i am a victim. anything that happens to me is because they make it so.
when i was in college i learned from the frat boys. they were handsome and rich and they had nothing inside of them other than mgd and semen but what i learned was no matter what ignorance they spewed or how many times they’d listen to “legend”, because they were surrounded by women with low standards, they were always satisfied.
so i learned to show up in places where there would be hot babes, keep my mouth shut, and have a clean apartment with a second pair of sheets somewhere.
all my body wants is peace and quiet and a nice hand to hold.
ashley is much more than that, and she isn’t right for me and im not right for her and the frat boys would sometimes throw stephen stills in the boom box and you know the one, where the eagles fly with the dove.
some people can let the sands of the hourglass stream through as they wait for their dreams to come true. im not so patient. i have no willpower.
i might not ever find the girl of my dreams who also thinks im the boy of her dreams but im not so sure its a great idea to sit around alone while i figure out the answer.
she apologized and made promises and asked me if there was anything that she could do to prove that she was sorry and i thought of a few things.
let me sleep with all of your friends.
she sniffed and hiccuped still sobbing a bit.
even the fat ones.
she said, im the only fat one.
then i said take off your clothes.
leather chaffs at three am when you’re trying to sleep.