Banter? I just met her...
In the immortal words of Frank Dreben, "Hey look, it's the missing evidence in the Mcveigh case. I'll be damned, he was innocent.
Words I thought I would never hear from mom back in the ATL: "We had an earthquake last night!"
My face is peeling off.
It is better to be sunburned than it is to be moon-tanned.
If all days were Fridays then we wouldn't have weeks.
I started working on a new song last night. It's called "Toro Motor." It's real dark and Gothy. Stay tuned.
Work is really stressing me out. I hate it when it does that. I want to play.
Happy Birthday Jay!
Jaredhead.
When arguments ensue, why do people insist on telling you what they are? I really don't care what you think of yourself, that is a personal thing. What I care about is how I perceive you. If you flat out tell me what you are, then I know, that, you are not. I can form my own opinion on you by your actions, not by what you say you are. That is almost as bad as people who refer to themselves in the third person.
People who use cell phones on buses tend to be loud talkers in real life.
I find these days I think about stuff I never used to think about.
'Awright, good job 43. Now let's get them Sudans.' 'Awright pa...so what do we do next?'
My best friends Mat and Harper just got the BEST apartment in San Francisco! Congratulations ya'll!!
Oh Mr. Drunkman. Must you snort and and slobber yourself whilst I quietly try to get to work? Everyone hears you, sir. Everyone smells you, sir. Thanks for the cordiality.
When I tell people back home my girlfriend's name is Jared, they look at me kinda funny. I just look back and say "I knoooow." Then they get all weirded out...and I laugh inside.
Cellphone, cellphone
go straight to hell yourphone.
Me and my friend Dorsey used to go under this bridge in Atlanta and break glass bottles. It was strange now that I think about it. We used to ride our bikes, I had a Schwinn Predator, he had a Mongoose, and find any kind of unbroken bottle. Beer bottles, Coke bottles, anything that would break. Then we would go under our bridge, the one on Northside, next to Nancy Creek. We would pile up our bounty and violently throw all the bottles against the graffiti laden walls, acting like we were Nolan Ryan. The sound was cool. We would wait till cars passed overhead and simultaneously throw them so the shatter melded with the car "vroom." It was like shooting someone's car windshiled out and getting away with the loot. Then we would go home and tell our parents we were just riding bikes. Weird.
My friends and I were discussing the validity of some of the polls out there that state that over 70% of San Franciscans are backing the war. We all agreed, just by living here, that number is "preposterous." We then wondered what questions were asked in said poll that rendered that number. One friend then came up with one unbiased question that would maybe give us a truer statistic as to how San Franciscans really felt about the war. The question was this, "Do you think as a result of bombing Iraq, there will be fewer terrorist attacks or more terrorist attacks globally?"
Why does the child-molester, creepy old slobbering man I'm trying to avoid at the bus-stop, have to sit right next to me when there are PLENTY of open seats and then start reading the newspaper over my shoulder? So I read the sports page first.
I was walking home from my girlfriends' house on Sunday afternoon, after the best weekend ever, and I get a block from my house and a man approaches me. He mumbles something about money. I tell him no thanks, thinking he is trying to sell me a dime bag or something so I proceed to cross the crosswalk. I notice he is putting on black gloves and he motions and says something to the effect of "Yeah, him." I look over, almost through the crosswalk, and notice a second man walking towards me also putting on black gloves. As I hit the sidewalk, they are both right behind me, on either side. "Give me your fucking money." One says. I begin to walk faster, "I don't have any." I can see my door half a block away. I am scared. Really scared. "How can they be doing this here, and in the middle of the day, this bright and sunny day?" I ask myself. I was ready to protect myself, but really didn't want to. About that time a door opened right in front of me and three older ladies walked out of the church laughing and giggling in their Sunday best. "Hello ladies!" I shout as I put my arm around the church goers. They looked at me like I was crazy. I stood right next to them and chatted until the two men turned away. They walked down the block as I complimented the ladies on their dresses and the beautiful weather. The men backed off and I walked to my house quickly and locked the doors.
It's even better...
Tomorrow feels like Christmas!
I'm off the rest of this week, so read my blog ok?
Your Host:
jefe
San Francisco, California, United States
fishin' with firearms