ZooK
I got guys bigger than you in my stool.
Yesterday I tried to BLARG and the fucking thing was down so here's another shot. These strange people were walking down the street I live on but they looked quite a bit like the people who live four houses down from us, so when she flagged us down I figured she was looking for her cat or something so I stopped.
Her: "Hey, I'm not from around here, but I was wondering where people go to dance around here."
Me: "Uhhhh...."
Her: "Yer cute. Are you guys single?"
Me: "No!"
Her: "Well it doesn't matter, I have a boyfriend. So do you guys own that house?"
Me: "No.....No."
Her: "so where do people go to dance around here?"
My Brother: "Um...we're losers. We don't dance and all that."
Her: "oh? Oh....Well are yer parents home?***1***
Me: "No."
My brother: (Large sigh and frown, but says nothing instead of saying "but they will be" or something if he's so worried about it)
Her: "Okay. Well, it was nice to meet you."
Me: "yeah...." (Checking the license plate on her car just in case)
So as she walks away I notice she's carrying a spray bottle in her back pocket. I believe to this moment that her and her "boyfriend" were just trying to scam homeowners into letting them clean their windows/house. My brother, and later my mother, have a different theory. See he spent 4 of his formative years in NYC, specifically Columbia which is near Harlem. One of his friends got mugged one night by a pair of ruffians who posed as homeless people***2***and attacked him from behind while the other started a conversation. So he has this theory that everyone is out to get everything you have at all times. Locks and deadbolts and moats were made for people like him. So right as we drive away he yells at me "What the fuck did you say that for!?!?!?!?" and starts me believing that those two are about to break into our house and steal all our valuables***3*** so that we actually go back and I check all the hiding spots that they would have no way of knowing. Paranoia runs deep, so deep, so deep puts my butt to sleep.
Nothing harmed, except my previously strong trust that if someone is going to break into yer house, they'll at least have the courtesy NOT to come up to you and ask you where the fucking young people go to dance.
The Days of Wine and Roses: Jack Lemmon nearly broke down when describing this movie. After they finished shooting, he flew to Italy and didn't tell anyone where he had gone so that the producers couldn't change the ending. Know this: this movie can and will scare the shit out of you if you know anyone who drinks too much. When a man who's been sober for weeks gets back off the wagon and breaks every potted plant in his father-in-law's nursery looking for a bottle he'd hidden there and then breaks down sobbing because he can't find it and then becomes happier than he's ever been in his life when he finds it.....and Jack Lemmon is the boss. was the boss. Will be the boss.
The next five people I would assasinate in a perfect world would be: The woman in front of me in line in the Drive-Thru lane at Portillo's who ordered $30 worth of shit and then yelled at the girl for forgetting one item; Kenny G; all members (past or present) of Alient Ant Farm and/or LFO; and your choice, but not the president cuz you can go to jail for that.
In the stereo: michael stipe fucking whining into a mic and calling it art.
***1***At this point I realize she has two front teeth missing. My brother notices that her boyfriend/accomplise has disappeared behind our house.
**2**Or, were homeless people.
***3***To which I counter: "What valuables?" and he says "Well......maybe the fucking golf clubs!" To which I silently replied "good riddance" since my parents "enjoyment" of golf means quite a bit of permanent frustration.
I got guys bigger than you in my stool.
Yesterday I tried to BLARG and the fucking thing was down so here's another shot. These strange people were walking down the street I live on but they looked quite a bit like the people who live four houses down from us, so when she flagged us down I figured she was looking for her cat or something so I stopped.
Her: "Hey, I'm not from around here, but I was wondering where people go to dance around here."
Me: "Uhhhh...."
Her: "Yer cute. Are you guys single?"
Me: "No!"
Her: "Well it doesn't matter, I have a boyfriend. So do you guys own that house?"
Me: "No.....No."
Her: "so where do people go to dance around here?"
My Brother: "Um...we're losers. We don't dance and all that."
Her: "oh? Oh....Well are yer parents home?***1***
Me: "No."
My brother: (Large sigh and frown, but says nothing instead of saying "but they will be" or something if he's so worried about it)
Her: "Okay. Well, it was nice to meet you."
Me: "yeah...." (Checking the license plate on her car just in case)
So as she walks away I notice she's carrying a spray bottle in her back pocket. I believe to this moment that her and her "boyfriend" were just trying to scam homeowners into letting them clean their windows/house. My brother, and later my mother, have a different theory. See he spent 4 of his formative years in NYC, specifically Columbia which is near Harlem. One of his friends got mugged one night by a pair of ruffians who posed as homeless people***2***and attacked him from behind while the other started a conversation. So he has this theory that everyone is out to get everything you have at all times. Locks and deadbolts and moats were made for people like him. So right as we drive away he yells at me "What the fuck did you say that for!?!?!?!?" and starts me believing that those two are about to break into our house and steal all our valuables***3*** so that we actually go back and I check all the hiding spots that they would have no way of knowing. Paranoia runs deep, so deep, so deep puts my butt to sleep.
Nothing harmed, except my previously strong trust that if someone is going to break into yer house, they'll at least have the courtesy NOT to come up to you and ask you where the fucking young people go to dance.
The Days of Wine and Roses: Jack Lemmon nearly broke down when describing this movie. After they finished shooting, he flew to Italy and didn't tell anyone where he had gone so that the producers couldn't change the ending. Know this: this movie can and will scare the shit out of you if you know anyone who drinks too much. When a man who's been sober for weeks gets back off the wagon and breaks every potted plant in his father-in-law's nursery looking for a bottle he'd hidden there and then breaks down sobbing because he can't find it and then becomes happier than he's ever been in his life when he finds it.....and Jack Lemmon is the boss. was the boss. Will be the boss.
The next five people I would assasinate in a perfect world would be: The woman in front of me in line in the Drive-Thru lane at Portillo's who ordered $30 worth of shit and then yelled at the girl for forgetting one item; Kenny G; all members (past or present) of Alient Ant Farm and/or LFO; and your choice, but not the president cuz you can go to jail for that.
In the stereo: michael stipe fucking whining into a mic and calling it art.
***1***At this point I realize she has two front teeth missing. My brother notices that her boyfriend/accomplise has disappeared behind our house.
**2**Or, were homeless people.
***3***To which I counter: "What valuables?" and he says "Well......maybe the fucking golf clubs!" To which I silently replied "good riddance" since my parents "enjoyment" of golf means quite a bit of permanent frustration.
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