I don't like the sun. I already told you this, it mugs me and steals my wallet, kicks me in the balls, pokes out my eyes and gives me indian burns all over my entire body. Squinting, yeah, that's a BLAST.
Anyway I was running around in the sun yesterday doing all kinds of errands. Did I mention that I also hate errands? Well I do, I even hate that word and when people use it I claw their face and with my fingers in their gums and eyelids I tell them to "say it like it is" for once, but then I don't know another a better word to use than errands and I claw my own face all rage style.
So yeah, errands, I was running them, literally, I was running as fast as I could to catch the green at the crosswalk because I also hate standing at an intersection like some vulture shaped old woman waiting for my turn to chicken myself across the road to get to the other side. Point is, I'm like lightning, I run as fast as a car, people look out their windows as they are driving and they point at me because they are impressed with my "faster than a car-ness". We point at fast stuff because we like the breeze our finger makes at it rushes over the horizon. Ok maybe not.
I came across a Greek Orthodox church that was having a festival of sorts, everyone was wearing silly religious scarves and hats as they all celebrated the music and dance that nobody else likes. I grabbed a couple of the miniature leaf flavored ice cream cones,(why does cultural food always taste like a leaf?) listened to one of the Greek speakers telling a bunch of inside jokes that the other Greeks pretended were hilarious but from what I could tell the speaker was a charity case and was probably the nephew of the dude who brought the pile of rotating meat which was why he was cool. I had major gas btw.
Next I searched for a magazine stand because it's fun to see my photos in glossy magazines and even more fun to thumb through at a magazine stand where someone might be thumbing through the same magazine and I can wait for them to gasp upon seeing one of my photos: "My this is a beautiful photograph." they might say if they weren't so selfish and inconsiderate not even noticing me standing there. FUCKERS. Actually, if they noticed me and then said it, that would be even lamer. SUCKUPS.
At the library I almost walked out of a floor to ceiling window that was wide open, at the last moment I noticed I was three stories in the air. Who the fuck builds a floor to ceiling window three stories in the air and leaves it wide open with no railing or nothin? I'll tell you who, people who embrace natural selection, that's who, good for them, I'm glad I passed the test.
Later that night I crashed at a friends place, as usual with my friends, the accommodations were crap, the floor was wet and slimy and the bed was low to the ground. I found a bunch of old bed spreads and began cutting them up and laying them on the cold ground to sop up some of the gunk while I listened to Prince doing Monday Night Football play by play over the intercom. One might think Prince would be a bad choice for sports announcer but thats before you hear him scream "Oooooowwwwuh!" whenever someone does something cool.
Two football references in a row. What do I win?
At the dance contest I tried to find a nice out of the way corner in which to bust my sick moves, out of the way because it's much more impressive when the ladies rush off to the corner to watch you hammer timing the world than being forced to watch the sad sack douchebags trying to crowd in on the spotlight with their wack moves in the middle of the floor. I make them come to me because I am 100 years old and wise as fuck.
That's all for now.
Don't get caught crop dusting somebody else's culture.
Your Corn Field Dance Floor Construction Foreman,
Kevin Costner's Polynesian Friend
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