Marc
written last night @ approximately 10pm ... not posted due to Blogger being an ass
Mishawaka, Indiana, USA
I think I'll keep a daily log of where I'm at this summer. Not necessarily one of those kinds where I'm supposed to jot down everything I did. Just something to remind where I physically slept during that night. Oh, and I just farted, Scoot. Thanks for the person-al/data-al birthday wishes. I had FUN! this weekend, too. Besides the wicked sore throat I got at home on Saturday, and also in spite of the two sore teeth in the back of my mouth right now. I've successfully avoided the dentist for the past four years running, and I see no reason to go back anytime soon. I brush every day. I'm good. They're good - my teeth that is. I don't need someone poking me in the gums with a piece of metal, telling me to "clamp down", or poking me with needles to drill into my teeth. When did we become a society of pain?
I decided to treat myself to a first day of summer present today - a new pair of shorts to sleep in, considering the fact that I left one pair at my most recent ex-girlfriend's apartment a while ago, and have yet had the guts to reclaim them (nor will I, I imagine). And the other pair are on the floor in my parent's basement, right where I left them this morning when I woke up two hours late for work. What a way to start up the old traveling routine, eh? I'm pathetic. I really, truly am.
At least this hotel is nice, though the dial-up fee for AOL is the only way I can connect to the intrOnet, and I'm using it sparingly, instead concentrating on finally finishing up Lester Bangs' Psychotic Reactions and Carberator Dung, which is still a phenomenally well-written book, but it's getting close to being out of my league reference-wise. I'm just not all that cool, to be honest. Zook knows it, and Matt knows it. Scoot's warming up to the idea, and I'm all about it. Self-deprecation/me/hand-in-motherfucking-hand.
We're like bees and butterflies on pretty flower petals, passing in the summer heat, flapping wings in greeting to each other, with a smile on our faces and a lust for pollen on our brains. Bzzzzzz ...
written last night @ approximately 10pm ... not posted due to Blogger being an ass
Mishawaka, Indiana, USA
I think I'll keep a daily log of where I'm at this summer. Not necessarily one of those kinds where I'm supposed to jot down everything I did. Just something to remind where I physically slept during that night. Oh, and I just farted, Scoot. Thanks for the person-al/data-al birthday wishes. I had FUN! this weekend, too. Besides the wicked sore throat I got at home on Saturday, and also in spite of the two sore teeth in the back of my mouth right now. I've successfully avoided the dentist for the past four years running, and I see no reason to go back anytime soon. I brush every day. I'm good. They're good - my teeth that is. I don't need someone poking me in the gums with a piece of metal, telling me to "clamp down", or poking me with needles to drill into my teeth. When did we become a society of pain?
I decided to treat myself to a first day of summer present today - a new pair of shorts to sleep in, considering the fact that I left one pair at my most recent ex-girlfriend's apartment a while ago, and have yet had the guts to reclaim them (nor will I, I imagine). And the other pair are on the floor in my parent's basement, right where I left them this morning when I woke up two hours late for work. What a way to start up the old traveling routine, eh? I'm pathetic. I really, truly am.
At least this hotel is nice, though the dial-up fee for AOL is the only way I can connect to the intrOnet, and I'm using it sparingly, instead concentrating on finally finishing up Lester Bangs' Psychotic Reactions and Carberator Dung, which is still a phenomenally well-written book, but it's getting close to being out of my league reference-wise. I'm just not all that cool, to be honest. Zook knows it, and Matt knows it. Scoot's warming up to the idea, and I'm all about it. Self-deprecation/me/hand-in-motherfucking-hand.
We're like bees and butterflies on pretty flower petals, passing in the summer heat, flapping wings in greeting to each other, with a smile on our faces and a lust for pollen on our brains. Bzzzzzz ...
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