Metal Lord is my Metal Shepherd
I am all thugged up on Friendster. Any of y'all who'd like to link to me just look for churchy.
I guess that's how it works.
There's this local fellow, we'll call him "Prince Ranier", and he fancies himself quite the man about town.
I am going to run this foppish dandy down in the street, leaving only strands of lank, wavy hair and vespa parts.
He does annoy me so.
Today, whilst driving down Esplanade ave, I noticed him scootering alongside singing "What i like about you" in a tuneless screech. If that wasn't bad enough, as he passed me, he repeatedly punched the air for emphasis. You know, to really punctuate those choruses. What a tool. I'm glad i saw him get his preening ass handed to him for crashing my friend Colin's wedding reception. Again, what a tool.
Oh and then there was the girl, the not quite hippy, not quite gutter, WASP girl with the sandals and the bad tattoo. You know, the "I'm hanging out with the scruffy dudes that my parents would totally hate" type. She wanders up to me in the Virgin Megastore after one of her friends announces that he's "Gotta piss real bad", and in lieu of a greeting or introduction, asks me:
"Hey dude, will you buy me a cd?"
"Uh...no".
"Can i get a cigarette?"
"No! Get a fucking job, hippy!"
I stomp off, wondering why the crazies always wanna talk to me.
Then i told the main security guard that there was a bunch of drunk white kids wandering around, looking suspicious, like maybe they were stealing cds or something.
Heh. Eeeeeeeeexcellent.
I guess that's how it works.
There's this local fellow, we'll call him "Prince Ranier", and he fancies himself quite the man about town.
I am going to run this foppish dandy down in the street, leaving only strands of lank, wavy hair and vespa parts.
He does annoy me so.
Today, whilst driving down Esplanade ave, I noticed him scootering alongside singing "What i like about you" in a tuneless screech. If that wasn't bad enough, as he passed me, he repeatedly punched the air for emphasis. You know, to really punctuate those choruses. What a tool. I'm glad i saw him get his preening ass handed to him for crashing my friend Colin's wedding reception. Again, what a tool.
Oh and then there was the girl, the not quite hippy, not quite gutter, WASP girl with the sandals and the bad tattoo. You know, the "I'm hanging out with the scruffy dudes that my parents would totally hate" type. She wanders up to me in the Virgin Megastore after one of her friends announces that he's "Gotta piss real bad", and in lieu of a greeting or introduction, asks me:
"Hey dude, will you buy me a cd?"
"Uh...no".
"Can i get a cigarette?"
"No! Get a fucking job, hippy!"
I stomp off, wondering why the crazies always wanna talk to me.
Then i told the main security guard that there was a bunch of drunk white kids wandering around, looking suspicious, like maybe they were stealing cds or something.
Heh. Eeeeeeeeexcellent.