hey, wait: was this your first taco-day?thumbellina59July 24 2005, 07:11:14 UTC
yoyo, that sounds totally whack. i am sorry...i don't want to picture you serving tacos, no, i don't want to picture you in a huge polo-shirt mopping some nasty dusgusting bathroom. i feel this is unacceptable. i am taking shots and missed your call, then stalkingly stumbled upon your girly-gay journal entry. it's good to see that even such as you writes tripe. functional and historical personal tripe. goodday.
There aint no reason to be thirsty in a beautiful state like Michigan. There are five Great Lakes full of fresh water. Unlike many foreign countries, one has the option of drinking fresh Lake Michigan water straight from the tap. If you're still thirsty, just wander over to any bathroom sink, cup yr hands, and drink like a fish. Quintron would.
Yes Phil, this is sound advice, though at the time of writing/"choosing my mood" (much like how one chooses from a variety of r & b tapes), I was thirsty for something else. But I'll have you know that I have always been a fan of the ol'temporary cup, and have brought many fistfuls of bathroom water to my mouth and mouth region. I'm hedging my bets that this practice and light breathing will turn all good things to gold, allowing one to squander the gold on a whole bunch of trouble, but fun trouble I tell you Mr. Phil.
dear princenarumovmarielagraveJuly 26 2005, 13:04:28 UTC
i truly hope you do not feel overtly exposed or fondled or anysuch thing for my now having taken the liberty of granting myself access to your semipublic every thoughts...having relinquished my status as someone perhaps sane and trustworthy enough to be graced with the muchtreasured and missed regularity of email coorespondence i once enjoyed, i simply could not resist this sparkling new opportunity to read your sincerley stellar scrawlings on all points concerning the pinpointed confusions of the oftimes greasybeans we call life.
Re: dear princenarumovprincenarumovJuly 27 2005, 04:58:04 UTC
Nichole, i feels fine. The truth of the matter is I have only begun broadcasting semipublic everythoughts just recently (besides a treefort turned private war turned french post-victory vacation with beach umbrellas and word bubbles saying "ooh la la" produced by an eight year old jason and me in the 36 by 24 inch pages of an overglorified, oversized notebook with the printed title MY BIG BOOK, most likely in the font of faux crayon perhaps even with the mirrored letter or two). Though it might appear as if I have been outed from secrecy by a kindhearted Miss Stevelle, I feel all attempts at stitching large letters onto my clothing completely unjustified. I mean, come on people, its the World Wide Web!
Cheers to the followthrough of a merry summer, and I hope you are occupying yourself in better ways than finding outrage at the odor your hands carry at the end of the night.
carl, i'm sorry your fantasies of taco boy have been fizzled out by a cruel blow of reality!! well, carl, perhaps you should come to the refugee camp that is compulit inc........sarah and i will be waiting....
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that sounds totally whack. i am sorry...i don't want to picture you serving tacos, no, i don't want to picture you in a huge polo-shirt mopping some nasty dusgusting bathroom.
i feel this is unacceptable.
i am taking shots and missed your call, then stalkingly stumbled upon your girly-gay journal entry. it's good to see that even such as you writes tripe. functional and historical personal tripe.
goodday.
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maybe i'll post those three or five things i've wanted you tor read unsuccesfully...
woke up too late today, and am getting quintron to kick my day off right...
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Cheers to the followthrough of a merry summer, and I hope you are occupying yourself in better ways than finding outrage at the odor your hands carry at the end of the night.
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