Yeeeeeaaahhhhhhh!!!! Dude, you are the fuckin' shit. The shittiest shit, dude. Yeah. Sweet!
I'm done. Holy shit, I just consumed a lot of food. My pancreas is screaming at me. I imagine it with a thick Cockney accent... *imagines*... "You bloody bitch! What do you I look like to you, eh? A frickin' bicarbonate factory?! I've got the bloody gall bladder spilling his bloody bile all over me. For 4 hours straight!!! You'd think that damn jaw of yours would 'ave given out by now, but noooooo... it just keeps comin'. Well I've 'ad enough of it! I'm through with this 'ole bloody production *apoptosizes*." I really should brush up on my British slang...
I still can't believe I didn't die on the flight from Ithaca to Michigan. I was pretty sure this was going to be the one. A day or so before the flight, I always get these very vivid daydreams about the plane falling out of the sky. Or the passengers all clinging to one another, weeping helplessly. But the more I think about it, the more I think it would be a really kick ass way to die... besides the whole... dying part. Your life ends with this great roller coaster ride, you feel nothing, you make the news, and... you get this great roller coaster. But I'm not dead. Not just yet.
My Michigan "unhome" (as I fondly call it) is... weird. I might even go so far as to call it "bizarre", but I'm not in an adjective mood today. It's like you've rented a really nice condo on a lake... except you live here. Now if I could just shift it a few thousands miles south, it would be perfect. *runs out back and starts pushing on house*
So here's an idea... a totally unfeasible, unreasonable, craaazy idea. But an idea nonetheless. I think everyone that I know and love should pile into Jeff's Prism this summer and take a road trip to Michigan. And along the way everyone should crash at my condo-house for a week. There is a helluva a lot of room in this damn house and it needs to be filled... with people that aren't my family. Yes.
And when the time finally comes to leave, we'll make a rule that the last person in the car has to stay and live with Lisa's parents. Yes. Is good.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
Oh dear lord, no don't get those. Someone was trying too hard with that one.
Anything that counts and doesn't explode. You can get one for 5-10 dolla' somewhere. We'll figure out your stride length later...
Lisa! Apoligize to that foreign pancreas of yours!
Spending a summer with you that wasn't hot and mosquito infested would be heaven...
Post a Comment