im really sorry that you're underfed, but you heard what i said
decided not to nude it up today, which is a pity, as where better to spend my earth day than in one of the most beautiful areas i have discovered in this area?
slept on my shoulder kinda weird last night and now it doesn't want to move more than two inches back past its resting point. can't lift my arm over shoulder level. so the day probably only holds minor excursions for me. maybe to sands. thinking about hitting up the front yard mostly, though. chat it up with the neighborly folk, who assisted me in getting whole heartedly fucked up by eight last night. thanks, guys. during which, as i was inspecting my corona bottle, i realized that, while it may have been "made" in mexico, it is very much under the control of a company in chicago. i laughed, in my usual "isn't htat the shit" way and shared my finding with neighbor brendan. he laughed also, as we tend to share the same sense of humor most days. we mentioned it to some of the girls that reside below us, but they just started ranting about how corporations control our life and damn bush and his war for oil. blah blah blah. you're missing the bittersweet irony, babydoll! it's funny, all in all. we're sitting here bbqing it up, sipping our overpriced alcohol like this is the way it hsould be, and it's funny because it is the way it was intended to be. but while we're on the topic of coporatations and oil, why don't you go jump in your explorer and go do a little more shopping. that's right. i saw that pair of banana jeans you were sporting last week. you think they looked thrifty cause you chopped off the top and threw in some belt circa 1987. let's be honest. this is isla vista. santa barbara area. california. the UNITED STATES. unless you're living in a yurt and growing your own food and cotton, spinning it, weaving it into corse fabric, shut the hell up. you preach preach preach about hating the way things are but sit there in your apartment, paid for by the dearest mother and father, with your suv sitting in the driveway, used mostly to drive the less than one mile to campus, and drone on about political waste. i'd be content to listen to your mindless words if you even made your own clothing. but you don't. instead your spout trendy bullshit while waiting for the call that brings the next bag of great adventure.
people bother me. big time. mostly the people who are all talk and no whatever. action. walk, i guess, is the end of that overused shpeel.
meh. who has the energy to get mad at the world when fuel to motivate you is approaching three dollars a gallon.
slept on my shoulder kinda weird last night and now it doesn't want to move more than two inches back past its resting point. can't lift my arm over shoulder level. so the day probably only holds minor excursions for me. maybe to sands. thinking about hitting up the front yard mostly, though. chat it up with the neighborly folk, who assisted me in getting whole heartedly fucked up by eight last night. thanks, guys. during which, as i was inspecting my corona bottle, i realized that, while it may have been "made" in mexico, it is very much under the control of a company in chicago. i laughed, in my usual "isn't htat the shit" way and shared my finding with neighbor brendan. he laughed also, as we tend to share the same sense of humor most days. we mentioned it to some of the girls that reside below us, but they just started ranting about how corporations control our life and damn bush and his war for oil. blah blah blah. you're missing the bittersweet irony, babydoll! it's funny, all in all. we're sitting here bbqing it up, sipping our overpriced alcohol like this is the way it hsould be, and it's funny because it is the way it was intended to be. but while we're on the topic of coporatations and oil, why don't you go jump in your explorer and go do a little more shopping. that's right. i saw that pair of banana jeans you were sporting last week. you think they looked thrifty cause you chopped off the top and threw in some belt circa 1987. let's be honest. this is isla vista. santa barbara area. california. the UNITED STATES. unless you're living in a yurt and growing your own food and cotton, spinning it, weaving it into corse fabric, shut the hell up. you preach preach preach about hating the way things are but sit there in your apartment, paid for by the dearest mother and father, with your suv sitting in the driveway, used mostly to drive the less than one mile to campus, and drone on about political waste. i'd be content to listen to your mindless words if you even made your own clothing. but you don't. instead your spout trendy bullshit while waiting for the call that brings the next bag of great adventure.
people bother me. big time. mostly the people who are all talk and no whatever. action. walk, i guess, is the end of that overused shpeel.
meh. who has the energy to get mad at the world when fuel to motivate you is approaching three dollars a gallon.
posted by The Smart Pineapple at 12:15
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