Mjarc
I Want To Go To Sea World:
And see the comedy stylings of Seymour the Sea Lion and Slow Poke the shy Walrus. I want to figure how to go to Las Vegas NV and not spend three billion dollars, though the chances of me getting ripped and pulling one of those Hollywood "Let it ride!" scenes on number 34 at the Rouellette table in Caesar's Palace are pretty high. I want to go to NYC and walk around Times Square, a square I've not yet been to. I want to ride a trolley in San Francisco, and ride a soapbox car down a downtown street in Seattle. I want to cut my feet on the Great Coral Reef, and burn my shoes on the volcanic plains on Oahu. I never want to have to see Dallas or Fort Worth or Houston again, though I wouldn't mind staying the night in Minneapolis or St. Paul or Philadelphia.
Goddamn Travel Channel. Empty ... and expensive ... dreams.
Looking out the window these past few days has been abysmal. Nothing to look at. No chance at picking out light patterns in the the twin dormitory towers across the street. No cars filling up the parking lot. Just a bunch of trash that's too wet to get blown around. So, I've done what any normal, self-respecting human would do: I've sat inside, plopped down on a couch, and played video games and watched television. I told you I wasn't going to use my brain. At least tonight I stopped drinking before nine o'clock. For fuck's sake, I was at a bar at seven pm, at the request of Rick and Pete NXNW (respectively). We downed a few beers, played some pool, and ordered this godawful frozen pizza with the largest/thinnest slices of pepperoni I've ever seen. They had to practice. NXNW, not the pepperoni slices. I had to watch old SNL re-runs (awesome) and the Daily Show (awesomer). Going home tomorrow, which should be fun. One of my former co-workers is in town learning the tricks and tools of scheduling for a nationwide corporation. Basically means that he's in our family room, listening to my dad talk about all his programs that he devised to tell everyone where the hell to go.
I Want To Go To Sea World:
And see the comedy stylings of Seymour the Sea Lion and Slow Poke the shy Walrus. I want to figure how to go to Las Vegas NV and not spend three billion dollars, though the chances of me getting ripped and pulling one of those Hollywood "Let it ride!" scenes on number 34 at the Rouellette table in Caesar's Palace are pretty high. I want to go to NYC and walk around Times Square, a square I've not yet been to. I want to ride a trolley in San Francisco, and ride a soapbox car down a downtown street in Seattle. I want to cut my feet on the Great Coral Reef, and burn my shoes on the volcanic plains on Oahu. I never want to have to see Dallas or Fort Worth or Houston again, though I wouldn't mind staying the night in Minneapolis or St. Paul or Philadelphia.
Goddamn Travel Channel. Empty ... and expensive ... dreams.
Looking out the window these past few days has been abysmal. Nothing to look at. No chance at picking out light patterns in the the twin dormitory towers across the street. No cars filling up the parking lot. Just a bunch of trash that's too wet to get blown around. So, I've done what any normal, self-respecting human would do: I've sat inside, plopped down on a couch, and played video games and watched television. I told you I wasn't going to use my brain. At least tonight I stopped drinking before nine o'clock. For fuck's sake, I was at a bar at seven pm, at the request of Rick and Pete NXNW (respectively). We downed a few beers, played some pool, and ordered this godawful frozen pizza with the largest/thinnest slices of pepperoni I've ever seen. They had to practice. NXNW, not the pepperoni slices. I had to watch old SNL re-runs (awesome) and the Daily Show (awesomer). Going home tomorrow, which should be fun. One of my former co-workers is in town learning the tricks and tools of scheduling for a nationwide corporation. Basically means that he's in our family room, listening to my dad talk about all his programs that he devised to tell everyone where the hell to go.
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