Marc
I retract my boo-ty, from a previous post. I hope you're happy. That's the first retracted statement I've ever had the tact to retract. Tacky? That's laffy-taffy, and whacky, and I just had a bit of a midnight snacky.
Sorry bout that.
My brother (the one that's going to HELL) dared himself to eat six deviled eggs in three minutes tonight at Grandma's house. He did. It was fucking gross. He's got braces and all that yellow, mustardy looking crap was stuck between them. He was smilin' like a buffoon, laughing at himself because he was eating a whole bunch of stupid eggs. What an idiot. Good thing he's going to HELL.
Soooo . .. my family spends most of our holidays at Grammy and Papa's house here in Bourbonnais. There's Mom, Dad, and me three siblings . .. Grammy and Papa . .. and Aunt Wendy, Uncle Carl, Cousin Carolyn, and her fiancee Jeff . .. makes for an interesting time. There's only one problem. Grammy's dining room isn't big enough to hold all of us, so she compensates for it by sticking a cardboard table in the living room. When I was a kid they called it THE KIDS TABLE. Now that I'm nearly twenty-two, what's it still called ---- if you guessed THE KIDS TABLE, you're absolutely correct. Jeff (the fiancee) is 25. Carolyn is 24. Everyone else, except for my little brother (the one that's going to HELL), is at least 17. Are we still kids? No, we're not. Tonight, we're all sitting down in the living room, and Grammy yells out to Aunt Wendy and my Mom, "Why don't you two start setting the kids down for supper?" What the hell?! We're not friggin' kids. We can seat ourselves. I know she's getting up there in age, but my heavens, when are we going to be allowed to grow up? If you guessed "NEVER", you are absolutely correct.
Followed up Easter supper with the family by going out with Jesse and doing a photoshoot in a graveyard. Really cool idea by him. It's basically a picture of me, but done in twenty other pictures, and I'm in it something like four different times in four different parts of the graveyard. Hard for me to explain because I don't really know much about photographamy. I'm a generally happy guy, so I figured shooting me in the graveyard would be kind of a nice off-set to the whole thing.
What'd we do after that? We played tennis, at 9 pm. I got my ass kicked 6-1 in a one set match. It started raining, and the cops came because John and Evan (our pals) were there skateboarding. They were also unscrewing a NO SKATEBOARDING/NO PETS sign from the fence. They had one nut to go when the piggy showed up. Too bad. John said he already had a spot picked out for it on his wall in his apartment. Bless the little guy, his dreams were cut short so quickly.
I retract my boo-ty, from a previous post. I hope you're happy. That's the first retracted statement I've ever had the tact to retract. Tacky? That's laffy-taffy, and whacky, and I just had a bit of a midnight snacky.
Sorry bout that.
My brother (the one that's going to HELL) dared himself to eat six deviled eggs in three minutes tonight at Grandma's house. He did. It was fucking gross. He's got braces and all that yellow, mustardy looking crap was stuck between them. He was smilin' like a buffoon, laughing at himself because he was eating a whole bunch of stupid eggs. What an idiot. Good thing he's going to HELL.
Soooo . .. my family spends most of our holidays at Grammy and Papa's house here in Bourbonnais. There's Mom, Dad, and me three siblings . .. Grammy and Papa . .. and Aunt Wendy, Uncle Carl, Cousin Carolyn, and her fiancee Jeff . .. makes for an interesting time. There's only one problem. Grammy's dining room isn't big enough to hold all of us, so she compensates for it by sticking a cardboard table in the living room. When I was a kid they called it THE KIDS TABLE. Now that I'm nearly twenty-two, what's it still called ---- if you guessed THE KIDS TABLE, you're absolutely correct. Jeff (the fiancee) is 25. Carolyn is 24. Everyone else, except for my little brother (the one that's going to HELL), is at least 17. Are we still kids? No, we're not. Tonight, we're all sitting down in the living room, and Grammy yells out to Aunt Wendy and my Mom, "Why don't you two start setting the kids down for supper?" What the hell?! We're not friggin' kids. We can seat ourselves. I know she's getting up there in age, but my heavens, when are we going to be allowed to grow up? If you guessed "NEVER", you are absolutely correct.
Followed up Easter supper with the family by going out with Jesse and doing a photoshoot in a graveyard. Really cool idea by him. It's basically a picture of me, but done in twenty other pictures, and I'm in it something like four different times in four different parts of the graveyard. Hard for me to explain because I don't really know much about photographamy. I'm a generally happy guy, so I figured shooting me in the graveyard would be kind of a nice off-set to the whole thing.
What'd we do after that? We played tennis, at 9 pm. I got my ass kicked 6-1 in a one set match. It started raining, and the cops came because John and Evan (our pals) were there skateboarding. They were also unscrewing a NO SKATEBOARDING/NO PETS sign from the fence. They had one nut to go when the piggy showed up. Too bad. John said he already had a spot picked out for it on his wall in his apartment. Bless the little guy, his dreams were cut short so quickly.
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