Unfortunately, I Went Home
I rode my bicycle past the Glasshouse at about 10:45. I stopped, made some telephone calls to speed dials 21 & 22 (They happen to be 21 and 22 for no particular reason. I don't assign the lower numbers to more favored friends; rather, I entered the numbers in my phone as I needed them, and these two friends happened to be the 21st and 22nd people I called.). Then I rode home and looked at shoes on the internet. I could post photos of shoes I'm considering, but I think the PotR blog is text-only. Anyway, I was looking at shoes, because at my place of business, shit is always getting dropped on my feet. Corn and potato chowder, roasted garlic mayonnaise, whatever. I guess that's why food people always wear plain black wipe-offable shoes. Anyway. I went home because I felt like it needed to happen. Like maybe, in this time of transition and perpetual exhaustion, it would help if I just cleaned my fucking room for once. I'm talking about getting rid of superflous objects in my life, winter clothes, random bits of nostalgia, flyers, what have you. Spring cleaning, making sense of the clutter. Instead I ended up compiling a nice little collection of shoes I want, and then borrowing some music from Bryan's computer. The music sharing was made possible by "eChoad," our home's pleasantly named wireless network that references the strip of tissue between one's genitals and anus.
I guess when I see PotR, things make more sense than they do when I'm sitting in my bedroom, surrounded by piles of clothes that I last wore in January. What's under your bed? What's under mine? What's under Kevin's? BJ's? Perhaps you should ask them.
Goodbye for now!
I guess when I see PotR, things make more sense than they do when I'm sitting in my bedroom, surrounded by piles of clothes that I last wore in January. What's under your bed? What's under mine? What's under Kevin's? BJ's? Perhaps you should ask them.
Goodbye for now!
2 Comments:
At 12:59 PM,
Anonymous said…
so far as I am aware - taint is the strip of skin down there - manvulva, if you will.
Choad is the gunk that collects there.
but perhaps this is a regionalism variation, being that suburban Texas and Michigan revolve in different third grade recess joke spheres. discuss.
Todd
At 1:29 PM,
B.J. said…
All right kids, I think I am going to have to put the kibosh on all this talk about my or anyone else's nether regions. Not to be a stick in the mud, but what about the children? How do you know they aren't reading this? Okay, I'll freely admit that the likelihood of little kids reading this is pretty small, unless they happen to be searching for Taco or something. I suppose said children would actually have been born well after Taco scored his novelty hit (which we did not name our band after, thank you very much. We still refuse to play that song, although money has been known to talk whilst bullshit is walking), so perhaps that even further reduces the chances of them happening on upon this randomly. Actually, come to think of it, they probably spend more time looking at pornography than even Kevin does so I guess it doesn't really matter all that much. But that is neither here nor there, and I would hate to revoke your comment priveleges. Please choose your words with more care. Just because I often don't is irrelevant, do as I say not as I do as my mother was wont to say on occasion. Bryan Quinn, Todd Patrick, Mollie Lauffer -- I'm looking at you. Now all three of you will have one more hit when you google yourselves, as I know you all do. I try every once in a while as well but all I get are technical papers that I had nothing to do with. Sigh. I guess I still have some work to do. At least it is a pleasant outside today, and I have my health for the most part. Well, my blood pressure is a little high and I have to have two moles biopsied, but things could be worse. In any event, I don't remember what I was talking about but I hope it was at least entertaining.
Post a Comment
<< Home