Marc
Day Three of My Impending Boredom:
You shouldn't wake up with this big of a hangover ON the Fourth Of July. It should be AFTER the Fourth of July. When seeing straight becomes an issue, we turn our heads to the side and scream out "Jo-Jo Tangerine the Bitch Ass Love Bucket" three times, real loud. That was one of the names I shoveled out last night to a close compadre. Po-Tangles the Shank Sista & Boo were the other two. Someone ended up calling me The Ghetto Love Prophecy for some reason ... or another. Grand festivities, I tell ya ... hope I don't have any hickies.
If I could tell you what's in store for me tonight, I would, but I'm still in the dark about the whole deal. I know that (1) There's a party at this kid's house in this farm town about five miles to the north. Do I want to go? No. Will I likely end up there b/c everyone else will probably go? Possibly. Apparently, there's some bitch ass fireworks somewhere near the dude's pad, and we can stand on the roof or some shit, and watch them go off. Not my idea of a grand time. (2) There are a number of bars in town that will probably be open into the wee hours of the morning. As it stands, I've already seen two fireworks displays ... a third would almost be going a little overboard, wouldn't you think? (3) There's this apartment I live in, and people have been gravitating towards it as the night gets later and later. We'll probably just end up staying here, listening to Michael Jackson, waltzing, singing, running amok, etc. (then again, I could be confusing those activities with last night's - I still hope that I don't have a hickie, I'm afraid to go look).
The Word of the Day: SCATHING
Need Zorba's.
Day Three of My Impending Boredom:
You shouldn't wake up with this big of a hangover ON the Fourth Of July. It should be AFTER the Fourth of July. When seeing straight becomes an issue, we turn our heads to the side and scream out "Jo-Jo Tangerine the Bitch Ass Love Bucket" three times, real loud. That was one of the names I shoveled out last night to a close compadre. Po-Tangles the Shank Sista & Boo were the other two. Someone ended up calling me The Ghetto Love Prophecy for some reason ... or another. Grand festivities, I tell ya ... hope I don't have any hickies.
If I could tell you what's in store for me tonight, I would, but I'm still in the dark about the whole deal. I know that (1) There's a party at this kid's house in this farm town about five miles to the north. Do I want to go? No. Will I likely end up there b/c everyone else will probably go? Possibly. Apparently, there's some bitch ass fireworks somewhere near the dude's pad, and we can stand on the roof or some shit, and watch them go off. Not my idea of a grand time. (2) There are a number of bars in town that will probably be open into the wee hours of the morning. As it stands, I've already seen two fireworks displays ... a third would almost be going a little overboard, wouldn't you think? (3) There's this apartment I live in, and people have been gravitating towards it as the night gets later and later. We'll probably just end up staying here, listening to Michael Jackson, waltzing, singing, running amok, etc. (then again, I could be confusing those activities with last night's - I still hope that I don't have a hickie, I'm afraid to go look).
The Word of the Day: SCATHING
Need Zorba's.
<< Home