Your life and my life are filled with the routine of a caveman: although it is a simplicity that most older people envy, in reality only the ones living it can speak of the harshness that accompanies that simplicity. The routine is unbroken for most of the year, with the exception of those little snippets of time with our families allowing for a glimpse at life away from college. That is, until you graduate. Then you hone your skills at studying and scheduling to the kind of edge that only razors embrace, with the metal gasping at the sight of how truly powerful the student mind actually is at full tilt.
-I. M. Wamocha
---------------------
I wrote that when I was in school.
I can't fucking stand school.
School for me was the last place I ever wanted to be.
My mom, when I told her this, told me that she knew. I asked her why she didn't say anything, and she just shrugged her shoulders.
When I was in school, it was like being compressed by large weights all day. I was depressed, lonely, surrounded by people that I didn't like and totally unchallenged by the classes I was taking. In the end, the frustration made me rebel and I paid for it.
My family, the eternally damned to fecundity, responded with "Why didn't you just make perfect grades and hurry up to finish if you were so bored?"
They were probably right. I should have just stuck through it.
Or maybe they were wrong.
Any guesses?
My cousin actually had the nuts to rebel against his peers and actually tell me that if he was in the same position he was in at my age (30 years ago) he would have done what he loves instead of just settling. He's the same age as my mom, but he swore me to secrecy.
Secret's out, I guess.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
The Break Is Over
Going to Cleveland for a few days, but I wanted to drop something before I left.
Hip hop, to me, has always been the higher form of art that has been distributed, packaged, and sold as music. It's the boombip, the drum sound, the ability to make a rhyme keep time. In short, you have to be a master of the craft and it has to reflect both your natural talent and your ability to practice that talent until it becomes something both real and unreal in its capacity to relate.
To me, that previous paragraph does nothing to describe my feelings about hip hop. I leave you with Mos Def.
I start to think, and then I sink
Into the paper, like I was ink
When I’m writing I’m trapped in between the line
I escape when I finish the rhyme (aiyyo)
My pops said he was in love when he made me
Thought about it for a second, wasn’t hard to see
I could hear he was sincere, was a game of promotion
The entire affair’s probably charged wit emotion
But love call your heart, I guess you got to persue
12-11-73 my life is testament
Praise the beneficent, element that rest
Devoid in the form that make love manifest
I spent my early years in roosevelt project
It was a bright valley wit some dark prospects
In ’83, venny c was the host wit the most
I listened to the rap attack and held the radio close
I listened to the rap attack and held the radio close
This is far before the days of high glamour and pose
Aiyyo power from the street light made the place dark
I know a few understand what I’m talkin about
It was love for the thing that made me wanna stay out
It was love for the thing that made me stay in the house
Spendin time, writin rhymes
Tryin to find words that describe the vibe
That’s inside the space
When you close yo’ eyes and screw yo’ face
Is this the pain of too much tenderness
To make me nod my head in reverence
Should I visit this place and remember it?
To build landmarks here as evidence
Night time, spirit shook my temperment
To write rhymes that portray this sentiment
We live the now for the promise of the infinite
We live the now for the promise of the inifinite
And we believe in the promise (love, love *repeated*)
Yes yes y’all and we don’t stop because
Hip hop, to me, has always been the higher form of art that has been distributed, packaged, and sold as music. It's the boombip, the drum sound, the ability to make a rhyme keep time. In short, you have to be a master of the craft and it has to reflect both your natural talent and your ability to practice that talent until it becomes something both real and unreal in its capacity to relate.
To me, that previous paragraph does nothing to describe my feelings about hip hop. I leave you with Mos Def.
I start to think, and then I sink
Into the paper, like I was ink
When I’m writing I’m trapped in between the line
I escape when I finish the rhyme (aiyyo)
My pops said he was in love when he made me
Thought about it for a second, wasn’t hard to see
I could hear he was sincere, was a game of promotion
The entire affair’s probably charged wit emotion
But love call your heart, I guess you got to persue
12-11-73 my life is testament
Praise the beneficent, element that rest
Devoid in the form that make love manifest
I spent my early years in roosevelt project
It was a bright valley wit some dark prospects
In ’83, venny c was the host wit the most
I listened to the rap attack and held the radio close
I listened to the rap attack and held the radio close
This is far before the days of high glamour and pose
Aiyyo power from the street light made the place dark
I know a few understand what I’m talkin about
It was love for the thing that made me wanna stay out
It was love for the thing that made me stay in the house
Spendin time, writin rhymes
Tryin to find words that describe the vibe
That’s inside the space
When you close yo’ eyes and screw yo’ face
Is this the pain of too much tenderness
To make me nod my head in reverence
Should I visit this place and remember it?
To build landmarks here as evidence
Night time, spirit shook my temperment
To write rhymes that portray this sentiment
We live the now for the promise of the infinite
We live the now for the promise of the inifinite
And we believe in the promise (love, love *repeated*)
Yes yes y’all and we don’t stop because
Friday, November 18, 2005
Fast Food Fridays
Because I've recieved so much angry mail from McDonald's over my posting of their recipes, I'm going to continue the tradition as a regular part of my weekend posts.
God speed and Amen.
I'm gonna need a lawyer fulltime. Any recommendations?
----------
McDonald's® Chicken McNuggets™
SPECIAL TOOLS: Deep fryer
Ingredients:
vegetable oil (in fryer)
1 egg
1 cup water
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup tempura mix (or 1/3 cup flour for a total of 1 cup if tempura mix is unavailable)
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon Accent®
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/8 teaspoon garlic powder
4 chicken breast filets, each cut into 6-7 bite sized pieces.
Cooking your McNuggets™
1. Beat the egg and then combine it with 1 cup water in a small, shallow bowl. Stir.
2. Combine the flour, salt, Accent®, pepper, onion powder and garlic powder in a one gallon size zip lock bag.
3. Pound each of the breast filets with a mallet until about 1/4-inch thick. Trim each breast filet into bite sized pieces.
4. Coat each piece with the flour mixture by shaking in the zip lock bag.
5. Remove and dredge each nugget in the egg mixture, coating well. Then return each nugget to the flour/seasoning mixture. Shake to coat. Put nuggets, bag and all,
in the freezer for at least an hour. Cover and refrigerate remaining egg mixture.
6. After freezing, repeat the "coating" process.
7. Preheat oven and large cookie sheet to 375°
8. Deep fry the chicken McNuggets™ at 375° for 10-12 minutes or until light brown and crispy. (cook only about 9 at a time.)
9. Drain on paper towels 3-5 minutes.
10. Place deep-fried nuggets on preheated cookie sheet in oven and bake another 5-7 minutes.
11. Serve with your favorite McDonald's dipping sauce.
| Back to the McMenu |
God speed and Amen.
I'm gonna need a lawyer fulltime. Any recommendations?
----------
McDonald's® Chicken McNuggets™
SPECIAL TOOLS: Deep fryer
Ingredients:
vegetable oil (in fryer)
1 egg
1 cup water
2/3 cup all-purpose flour
1/3 cup tempura mix (or 1/3 cup flour for a total of 1 cup if tempura mix is unavailable)
2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon Accent®
1/4 teaspoon pepper
1/8 teaspoon garlic powder
4 chicken breast filets, each cut into 6-7 bite sized pieces.
Cooking your McNuggets™
1. Beat the egg and then combine it with 1 cup water in a small, shallow bowl. Stir.
2. Combine the flour, salt, Accent®, pepper, onion powder and garlic powder in a one gallon size zip lock bag.
3. Pound each of the breast filets with a mallet until about 1/4-inch thick. Trim each breast filet into bite sized pieces.
4. Coat each piece with the flour mixture by shaking in the zip lock bag.
5. Remove and dredge each nugget in the egg mixture, coating well. Then return each nugget to the flour/seasoning mixture. Shake to coat. Put nuggets, bag and all,
in the freezer for at least an hour. Cover and refrigerate remaining egg mixture.
6. After freezing, repeat the "coating" process.
7. Preheat oven and large cookie sheet to 375°
8. Deep fry the chicken McNuggets™ at 375° for 10-12 minutes or until light brown and crispy. (cook only about 9 at a time.)
9. Drain on paper towels 3-5 minutes.
10. Place deep-fried nuggets on preheated cookie sheet in oven and bake another 5-7 minutes.
11. Serve with your favorite McDonald's dipping sauce.
| Back to the McMenu |
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Film Noir
I watched Sin City last night, and after much deliberation I've come to the conclusion that my friends and I are going to make one of our own.
If you want to be down with us on it, feel free to email me at solidarious54@gmail.com or just comment here if you're feelin ballsy. You'll have to live in the area or at least have the ability to send and recieve large audio, video, and text files. We'll make those decisions as they come.
--------------------
Rumi talked about a point where the camel's back bends and the load looks to teeter. Sometimes you'll see your packages eye the ground with longing, anxious for that drop towards the bottom. It's a long way down so they'll want something for the trouble of giving in to gravity's wishes. They'll be honest and fair with the trip towards the end of it's downward selfishness.... it can't last forever, Gravity. Force of forces, you might keep me here but my corners can't remain pointing toward the earth. Eventually I'll get used to it, and I might even bend a little at the edges. But I'm still a square. And squares gotta be squares.
Too far? Maybe.
I'm at my end. Maybe they can beat me. Maybe they can't.
But if I had to bet money, I'd throw down on the kid.
Your choice though.
If you want to be down with us on it, feel free to email me at solidarious54@gmail.com or just comment here if you're feelin ballsy. You'll have to live in the area or at least have the ability to send and recieve large audio, video, and text files. We'll make those decisions as they come.
--------------------
Rumi talked about a point where the camel's back bends and the load looks to teeter. Sometimes you'll see your packages eye the ground with longing, anxious for that drop towards the bottom. It's a long way down so they'll want something for the trouble of giving in to gravity's wishes. They'll be honest and fair with the trip towards the end of it's downward selfishness.... it can't last forever, Gravity. Force of forces, you might keep me here but my corners can't remain pointing toward the earth. Eventually I'll get used to it, and I might even bend a little at the edges. But I'm still a square. And squares gotta be squares.
Too far? Maybe.
I'm at my end. Maybe they can beat me. Maybe they can't.
But if I had to bet money, I'd throw down on the kid.
Your choice though.
To Make Ends.
I've got pockets.
Today, I'm now an employed person. Hooray for me.
So now onto more important matters.
Filet~O-Fish®
You'll need a DEEP-FRYER for this one. (this is a per-serving recipe. Multiply everything by each serving needed.) Fish patty can also be baked per package directions.
1 Van de Camps frozen breaded whitefish patty*
1 small, regular hamburger bun
1 Tablespoon prepared tartar sauce
1/2 slice real American cheese
dash salt
1 12"x12" sheet of waxed paper (to wrap)
**use any square whitefish patty not extra crisp, like Mrs. Pauls, or even the store brand.
(as with the burgers, pre-heat your oven to warm. This is your warming "bin".)
Pre-heat you fryer to 375-400 degrees. After its ready, cook fish 3-5 minutes until done.(do NOT thaw first.) Remove and add a dash of salt.
In the old days, the bun was quick warmed using a steamer. We'll use the microwave. Microwave the bun about 10 seconds, until hot and steamy. (Do NOT toast the bun) Add about 1
Tablespoon of prepared tartar sauce to crown side of the bun. Place the cooked fish filet on top, add 1/2 slice american cheese centered on the fish, and add heel of the bun. Wrap in a
12"x12" sheet of waxed paper and warm in oven's lowest setting for 8-10 minutes. Dig into a fabulous Filet~0-Fish!
****************ONCE AGAIN**************** An alternate "Q-ing" method would be to wrap the sandwich tightly in wax paper, let sit for 5 minutes, and microwave on high
for 15 seconds (while still wrapped.) In fact, you can use this method on ALL of the burger recipes on this site, with the exception of the McD.L.T. ("Q-ing" was a McDonald's term for
helping the flavors to meld via mechanical means; ie heatlamp or microwave.)
Today, I'm now an employed person. Hooray for me.
So now onto more important matters.
Filet~O-Fish®
You'll need a DEEP-FRYER for this one. (this is a per-serving recipe. Multiply everything by each serving needed.) Fish patty can also be baked per package directions.
1 Van de Camps frozen breaded whitefish patty*
1 small, regular hamburger bun
1 Tablespoon prepared tartar sauce
1/2 slice real American cheese
dash salt
1 12"x12" sheet of waxed paper (to wrap)
**use any square whitefish patty not extra crisp, like Mrs. Pauls, or even the store brand.
(as with the burgers, pre-heat your oven to warm. This is your warming "bin".)
Pre-heat you fryer to 375-400 degrees. After its ready, cook fish 3-5 minutes until done.(do NOT thaw first.) Remove and add a dash of salt.
In the old days, the bun was quick warmed using a steamer. We'll use the microwave. Microwave the bun about 10 seconds, until hot and steamy. (Do NOT toast the bun) Add about 1
Tablespoon of prepared tartar sauce to crown side of the bun. Place the cooked fish filet on top, add 1/2 slice american cheese centered on the fish, and add heel of the bun. Wrap in a
12"x12" sheet of waxed paper and warm in oven's lowest setting for 8-10 minutes. Dig into a fabulous Filet~0-Fish!
****************ONCE AGAIN**************** An alternate "Q-ing" method would be to wrap the sandwich tightly in wax paper, let sit for 5 minutes, and microwave on high
for 15 seconds (while still wrapped.) In fact, you can use this method on ALL of the burger recipes on this site, with the exception of the McD.L.T. ("Q-ing" was a McDonald's term for
helping the flavors to meld via mechanical means; ie heatlamp or microwave.)
Monday, November 14, 2005
Bottomkido
My given name is different from the name that I commonly use. If that's the case, is my other life a lie?
I found out last week that I was being sued. I won't get into details.
Still unemployed. Two more interviews this week, making my interview total 21. If my interview was a kid named Lloyd, Lloyd would be going out to get hammered on Wednesday night. Let's hope he's blowing his brain out as a newly employed fool.
No money. Having no money is awesome. It's like living... without the life thing getting in the way.
More to follow.
I found out last week that I was being sued. I won't get into details.
Still unemployed. Two more interviews this week, making my interview total 21. If my interview was a kid named Lloyd, Lloyd would be going out to get hammered on Wednesday night. Let's hope he's blowing his brain out as a newly employed fool.
No money. Having no money is awesome. It's like living... without the life thing getting in the way.
More to follow.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Noteworthy Description of a Fucked Up Situation
tribeofshugbazz: i'm just tired of choking on swamp water and swimming in my own shit
ReeceP1: you'd be doing that on this side too, man... remember how I would look after coming back from MS?
ReeceP1: lol
ReeceP1: like I'd killed Swamp Thing
ReeceP1: lol
tribeofshugbazz: yeah, but you'd been in MS doing shit
tribeofshugbazz: we're wanting some of what the other person has
tribeofshugbazz: and it's like glass is in betweem
tribeofshugbazz: when all we really need to do is take the time to break down the glass in such a manner that it doesn't cut us.
ReeceP1: lol
tribeofshugbazz: but i like wooden bowls anyway...
ReeceP1: lmao
ReeceP1: so well said that it will be quoted in my Blogger
... and there it was
ReeceP1: you'd be doing that on this side too, man... remember how I would look after coming back from MS?
ReeceP1: lol
ReeceP1: like I'd killed Swamp Thing
ReeceP1: lol
tribeofshugbazz: yeah, but you'd been in MS doing shit
tribeofshugbazz: we're wanting some of what the other person has
tribeofshugbazz: and it's like glass is in betweem
tribeofshugbazz: when all we really need to do is take the time to break down the glass in such a manner that it doesn't cut us.
ReeceP1: lol
tribeofshugbazz: but i like wooden bowls anyway...
ReeceP1: lmao
ReeceP1: so well said that it will be quoted in my Blogger
... and there it was
Friday, November 04, 2005
And That's Why They Call It...
After a stunning amount of technical futzing, I have incorporated an old drive into the home Dell. Oh the wonders I have bestowed upon this machine... 2500 music files, 15 divx files, and a host of video...
Dear God.
I got a call today from an 808 zip code. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I got a serious offer from Hawaii. For a job. A real organizing job. In fucking Honolulu.
Dear God.
I should consider it, but me and my man Miznike are getting a place. Sure, I haven't worked in months, sure I'm completely broke, sure I'm pretty much dead in the water otherwise in the job department. But I bet you I'll turn that down like a hooker in a hallway in Hanoi. At 4 AM. And she's only wearing one shoe. And some kind of insect is running down her leg at top speed. From the area that rhymes with fraginal.
Dear God.
Heh... Wasn't that the end of one of my posts awhile ago? Should really stop writing God letters Postage Due... fucking with my credit.
Dear God?
Dear God!
Dear God.
I got a call today from an 808 zip code. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I got a serious offer from Hawaii. For a job. A real organizing job. In fucking Honolulu.
Dear God.
I should consider it, but me and my man Miznike are getting a place. Sure, I haven't worked in months, sure I'm completely broke, sure I'm pretty much dead in the water otherwise in the job department. But I bet you I'll turn that down like a hooker in a hallway in Hanoi. At 4 AM. And she's only wearing one shoe. And some kind of insect is running down her leg at top speed. From the area that rhymes with fraginal.
Dear God.
Heh... Wasn't that the end of one of my posts awhile ago? Should really stop writing God letters Postage Due... fucking with my credit.
Dear God?
Dear God!
Everybody's Talkin At Me... I Can't Hear The Words They're Sayin
At the behest of my psychiatrist, I'm constructing a kind of plan for myself.
I'm thinking this next year should be a year that I spend trying to get myself on some kind of educational way point. I need to own it, in every sense of the word. I need to tell my parents to shut the fuck up, and pay for everything myself.
I want to ultimately be done with my degree plan by 2006-2007. Either way, in between school and work, I'm leaving the country for a few months.
So I've started planning for my exodus.
Anyone who wants to flee the nation with me, feel free to shout at me about it.
We're doing this backpacker style, and if you have a preference as to what countries you'd like to tag along with me on, feel free to let me know whenever.
It may seem like I'm doing this way too far in advance, but according to most sites I'm actually hedging my bets a tiny bit by doing it now. They say to plan in the fall and start saving by winter, especially since you'd have to save enough for gas and other fecundities.
Oh, and there's no way I'm going to Ibiza. This isn't the "party and bullshit" trip. You should do that when you're ready to stay in a hotel with room service in my opinion, so I'll do that some other time. If you want to, obviously you're welcome to go.
My real post will come soon, but I just wanted to put this out there.
I'm thinking this next year should be a year that I spend trying to get myself on some kind of educational way point. I need to own it, in every sense of the word. I need to tell my parents to shut the fuck up, and pay for everything myself.
I want to ultimately be done with my degree plan by 2006-2007. Either way, in between school and work, I'm leaving the country for a few months.
So I've started planning for my exodus.
Anyone who wants to flee the nation with me, feel free to shout at me about it.
We're doing this backpacker style, and if you have a preference as to what countries you'd like to tag along with me on, feel free to let me know whenever.
It may seem like I'm doing this way too far in advance, but according to most sites I'm actually hedging my bets a tiny bit by doing it now. They say to plan in the fall and start saving by winter, especially since you'd have to save enough for gas and other fecundities.
Oh, and there's no way I'm going to Ibiza. This isn't the "party and bullshit" trip. You should do that when you're ready to stay in a hotel with room service in my opinion, so I'll do that some other time. If you want to, obviously you're welcome to go.
My real post will come soon, but I just wanted to put this out there.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
A Metallic Scraping Sound...
"He pulls a knife you pull a gun, he sends one of yours to the hospital you send one of his to the morgue!"
-Sean Connery The Untouchables
-----
CAM'RON: Where did you start covering up the fear, right?
O'REILLY: No, wrong.
CAM'RON: I'm going to get at you in a minute.
O'REILLY: You go ahead. You get at me.
-O'Reilly Factor interview with Cam'ron and Damon Dash
-----
A few days ago, there was a pretty serious protest @ Howard U. It was primarily about the siege that precedes a presidential visit. The act itself was actually amazing, especially since Howard usually isn't exactly the first place people think of when they think "protest" nowadays.
I made the comment that living mere miles from the White House lends itself to a need for a bit of gumption.
Living in DC, for all purposes, is a bit of a contact sport. It is definitely you versus the forces of government. Whether its a day of Code Burnt Sienna alert or a distinct clarion call for serious marching, you're facing off against the Beast. You live there. You stay in his backyard, so naturally you're gonna have to fight him for the chewtoys and the doggie dish. Let's get gully here... you also have to fight for his prize, his bitch, the Money. He doesn't just fuck it, he births it. His innards grind out the slightly smelly notes, and you take them and buy CDs and MP3 players and condoms and hot dogs and weed with it. No matter how green your grass, he owns your ass, and until you face it and him, you're standing in a pile of shit way too big for your tiny limp pooperscooper.
If I was still a student, my time in class would be spent cultivating all manner of revolution. My school would be nothing short of a place known for yet another PLO with MD instead of the P. Even if my group was as small as it was at VState, I'd at least put up enough of a fight to where they'd have to recognize my irritating boils that fester on its lumpy, overfed ass. In short, I'd be a worry. I'd be a constant problem. To solve me, they'd have to treat me like a Rubix Cube: either break that motherfucker or respond to his code. Solve the puzzle and save your ass. I'd probably fail a lot of classes, but who gives a fuck about your diploma if tomorrow you can't eat with it anyway? Who cares if you're dead how many degrees you have and where they came from?
You live ten miles from the center of the pentagram. Are the candles you're lighting white or black? Or are you like the many who will stand and wait, hoping that an end result yields gas prices and peace in the Middle East, rights for women yet free ass, and a government where we vote Demmycrat or Repubbican and yet still have truth and fairness as part of our national collective?
Where's the mosh pit?
-Sean Connery The Untouchables
-----
CAM'RON: Where did you start covering up the fear, right?
O'REILLY: No, wrong.
CAM'RON: I'm going to get at you in a minute.
O'REILLY: You go ahead. You get at me.
-O'Reilly Factor interview with Cam'ron and Damon Dash
-----
A few days ago, there was a pretty serious protest @ Howard U. It was primarily about the siege that precedes a presidential visit. The act itself was actually amazing, especially since Howard usually isn't exactly the first place people think of when they think "protest" nowadays.
I made the comment that living mere miles from the White House lends itself to a need for a bit of gumption.
Living in DC, for all purposes, is a bit of a contact sport. It is definitely you versus the forces of government. Whether its a day of Code Burnt Sienna alert or a distinct clarion call for serious marching, you're facing off against the Beast. You live there. You stay in his backyard, so naturally you're gonna have to fight him for the chewtoys and the doggie dish. Let's get gully here... you also have to fight for his prize, his bitch, the Money. He doesn't just fuck it, he births it. His innards grind out the slightly smelly notes, and you take them and buy CDs and MP3 players and condoms and hot dogs and weed with it. No matter how green your grass, he owns your ass, and until you face it and him, you're standing in a pile of shit way too big for your tiny limp pooperscooper.
If I was still a student, my time in class would be spent cultivating all manner of revolution. My school would be nothing short of a place known for yet another PLO with MD instead of the P. Even if my group was as small as it was at VState, I'd at least put up enough of a fight to where they'd have to recognize my irritating boils that fester on its lumpy, overfed ass. In short, I'd be a worry. I'd be a constant problem. To solve me, they'd have to treat me like a Rubix Cube: either break that motherfucker or respond to his code. Solve the puzzle and save your ass. I'd probably fail a lot of classes, but who gives a fuck about your diploma if tomorrow you can't eat with it anyway? Who cares if you're dead how many degrees you have and where they came from?
You live ten miles from the center of the pentagram. Are the candles you're lighting white or black? Or are you like the many who will stand and wait, hoping that an end result yields gas prices and peace in the Middle East, rights for women yet free ass, and a government where we vote Demmycrat or Repubbican and yet still have truth and fairness as part of our national collective?
Where's the mosh pit?
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Truck Stop
So now I'm applying for AmeriCorps.
Wish me luck.
Now watch... I'll enter the program, excited and ready. It pays dick and the work is immense. Then, I'll get endless amounts of responses from my union organizing gigs. Unable to quit, I'll get pissed off and shoot someone. I'll then enter prison, where I'll lift weights and work on my criminal skills.
Wow, I really need a job.
Wish me luck.
Now watch... I'll enter the program, excited and ready. It pays dick and the work is immense. Then, I'll get endless amounts of responses from my union organizing gigs. Unable to quit, I'll get pissed off and shoot someone. I'll then enter prison, where I'll lift weights and work on my criminal skills.
Wow, I really need a job.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Because If Luck Were Oxygen... Well, You Can Just Go To Hell
So far the count is thirty two. Thoroughly rejected by them all.
I'm still on hold for ten.
I might end up a garbageman yet.
George Bush and his economic prosperity can get fucked.
Get fucked I say. Get fucked.
I'm still on hold for ten.
I might end up a garbageman yet.
George Bush and his economic prosperity can get fucked.
Get fucked I say. Get fucked.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
