|

3/19/2004

So, close, dorks. It's very close. Can you feel it on the horizon? I know you can't literally "feel the horizon", dorks, I know. But, it's there, begging to be felt up. Change is a slut, dorks, she wants you to take full advantage of her.
When change blows through town she doesn't advertise $5 handjobs of herself, she begs you take full advantage of her services.
"It's prom night and I'm drunk on champagne. Bomb city hall, tear down a historic tree, curse, fuck and show your tits. Don't shoot Arabs, Islamics, Afghanis or non-rabid dogs. Love tits. Tits made you healthy. Black tits started your species, don't be ashamed of them. Change, take me, knock it all down. You want to, I want you. You're drunk on champagne too."

Fuck.
Boobs.
Tits.
Shit.
Vote for Kerry.
Fuck.


It's been a good week, dorks, it's time for a good weekend. Sure, my girlfriend is sick and has cottage cheese in her throat and I can't kiss her for a week and that I have to drink beer alone. Sure, my job is no closer to permanent and I still live out of a backpack between R. Girl's and the L.C. Sure, I have had major headaches all week from a snot fortification in my head.
But, the slut is blowing into town, dorks. Things are close to happening. The precipice of the old, new shoes on, trail runners, perfect for whatever happens next. Unknown next.
New apartment, higher wages, new president, lower gas prices, electric cars and boobs galore!
Good, bad, a meteor, a bomb, a Democrat or sunshine in Seattle.
I'll take it all.

SCIENCE NEWS!
The rubberhead planet has been found! It's beyond Pluto! Can you believe it? I ask where these rubberheads come from and then from behind Pluto out jumps a fucking new planet? Punch the world awake and the universe spits out a new planet!
"It's a planetoid," says the scientist.
"Aw, fuck, scientist, don't rob me of this. Just call it a planet. It'll answer so many questions!"
"But then we have to rewrite the books," say the beurocrats.
"Jobs, jobs, jobs!"
"But then we have to name the planet," say the reporters.
"Rubberball! Texas 2!"
(I just realized that the following doesn't make much sense unless I explain that I was thinking of the Sun also. The solar system as a whole ((excluding moons)). Sun, Mercury, Venus, Earth, Mars, Just, Set, Up, Nine, Planets. 10.)
"But ten was such an nice number," say the mathmen.
"So is 11! It's two ones! We're #1 #1!"

Dorks, dorks, good weekend to you, dorks.
Weblog Commenting and Trackback by HaloScan.com