so anyways...
There was no milk for coffee, so i used all the bourbon in the house instead. By ten there was bacon and eggs but no more kentucky sour-mash, so i was forced to leave the condo. The first place i went to was a warehouse with 10-gallon-size buckets of Helmann's Mayonnaise, so i ran away from there into a little alleyway where someone had spray-paint-stenciled "Support the MInutemen: Protect our Borders" in the colors of the French flag. But the border is, like, five miles from L.A., and i can't even protect my teeth from decay, so i went to a gigantic store called Ralph's and spent ten or twenty minutes finding the door, but it was worth it because i was able to buy a decoy bottle of Jim Beam (to share with my mother) and a 1.75 Liter bottle of bathtub Rum to share with myself and keep under the floorboards. The check-out girl asked if i was over twenty one and i whipped off my sunglasses and said "not for 14 years, wugglyrump", and felt her smile shine on my back as i reeled out (and almost into) the automatic doors.
The rest of the day i painted the kitchen walls a pale green while "Jaws" played on the VCR. I washed the dishes and tried mixing Vicodan with valium, strapped on my iPod, and blasted what remains of my hearing with old Dinosaur Jr. songs while i returned to Ralph's for pre-sliced swiss cheese and a six-pack of Mickey's big mouths, but the check out girl this time had a beguiling, husky, "whisky voice" which summoned hallucinations in me, and i forgot to take the six-pack with me, only discovering my mistake once i had walked home. Luckily, iPods remember what you recently played, so i backed up the songs and trudged back up to the superstore to claim my rightful sestet of green-barrel-simulacrum. Mickey's bottles are like hand-grenades and should be thrown at moving objects.
I spent the rest of the day watching japanese porn and debating whether the ends really do justify the means.
Anyone else have a similar day?
The rest of the day i painted the kitchen walls a pale green while "Jaws" played on the VCR. I washed the dishes and tried mixing Vicodan with valium, strapped on my iPod, and blasted what remains of my hearing with old Dinosaur Jr. songs while i returned to Ralph's for pre-sliced swiss cheese and a six-pack of Mickey's big mouths, but the check out girl this time had a beguiling, husky, "whisky voice" which summoned hallucinations in me, and i forgot to take the six-pack with me, only discovering my mistake once i had walked home. Luckily, iPods remember what you recently played, so i backed up the songs and trudged back up to the superstore to claim my rightful sestet of green-barrel-simulacrum. Mickey's bottles are like hand-grenades and should be thrown at moving objects.
I spent the rest of the day watching japanese porn and debating whether the ends really do justify the means.
Anyone else have a similar day?