Dec 26, 2005 17:53
Merry late Christmas. It's Christmas all the time.
I'm tired.
Dale is a piece of crab. Not 'crap', no. Crab.
A man with a knife is preying on people while they pump their gas, so says the news man.
I realize despite how angry a fellow I am, I don't actually like fighting.
Studying and training in fighting is fun and all, but I don't have anything to prove in an actual fight.
Simplicity is generally too complex.
I don't want to work in an hour.
I want to fall asleep reading Treasure Island, and have dreams of plundering the coast with me crew and their mutilated apendages, then returning to me safe haven port and spending some time with me saucy wench.
I have pirattitude, do you?
I'm still tired.
I don't know what I'm doing tonight. There are a lot of options I have open to me.
"Did you see the yaw control?" "I have eyes, don't I?"
The best dialogue can be discovered at around 6:30AM.
(Me, standing with a handful of dog poop, looking at Dale)"I don't know what to do with this."
(Dale)"Why don't you flush it down the toilet?"
"It's poop!"
"..."
"You make a good arguement."