and then we'll get up, and we'll poo her! all over the table!
this afternoon, i got the amazing chance to hang out with the brilliant Ruhls. always a stimulating experience. route 309 = bad, so we went to Rosemarie's and got massive overflowing phallic gelatis instead. [that kid so should've picked it up] we sat in the car because it was cold and listened to Screeching Weasel. those characterized by ruhlxcore informed me that i eat slow. nyah! Chris and Rachael were staring at people through this little binoculars they found. it was creepy. we went to wal*mart and totally went on 309 anyway.. we're such freaking punk rock rebels. we took a gander at the "makeup" and made with the perfume. mmm i still reek of Noah. it's wonderful. Chris was looking at Eric H through the binoculars.. and stuff. we saw Megan on the way out, it was nice. upon leaving the parking lot, we saw a silver VW bug convertible, but it wasn't Chris'.
let me remind myself how much i love being at rachael's house. it's so cozy. especially by the stove. spooning! hah! sadly enough, my time there was limited because of my annoying job.
Kez wasn't working because she called out something.
Jess got called in, so i worked with Matt and Jess tonite. it was amusing. mattregulxcore! there was so much shit we had to do. we had to empty out the stock and make it look super good because we're getting inspected soon. it was hella busy because all these Quakertown retards just have to do their Easter shopping tonite. Steve made up his own little fucked up decree that no one was allowed to leave until at least 10.30. it sucks.. it's going to be worse tomorrow because we've got this coupon that's 30% your entire purchase from 6-9 pm. great! that's when i'm working! do you detect the sarcasm? if not, you're a moron. Kez is supposed to work tomorrow night as well, so i hope she's there.
<3 <3 [s'right, you get two hearts tonight. i'm in that good of a mood..]
tesa
and now for some random lyrics from some particularly wonderful songs .. [but we all know you won't read them anyway ]
// Cos' it's a bittersweet symphony this life...
Trying to make ends meet, you're a slave to the money then you die.
I'll take you down the only road I've ever been down...
You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah.
No change, I can't change, I can't change, I can't change,
but I'm here in my mold , I am here in my mold.
But I'm a million different people from one day to the next.
I can't change my mold, no, no, no, no, no, no, no \\
// the real American folk song is a rag,
a mental jag, a rhythmic tonic for the chronic blues
the critics called it a joke song
but now, they've changed their tune
and they like it somehow
for it's inoculated with a syncopated sort of meter,
sweeter
than a classic strain,
boy! You can't remain
still and quiet
for it's a riot!
the real American folk song
is like a fountain of youth;
you taste, and it elates you.
and then, invigorates you.
the real American folk song,
master stroke song,
is a rag! \\
// hands out. hands together. hands on chest. \\
// Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
who was very rarely stable.
Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
who could think you under the table.
David Hume could out consume
Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel,
and Wittgenstein was a beery swine
who was just as sloshed as Schlegel.
there's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya
'bout the raisin' of the wrist.
socrates himself was permanently pissed.
John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
after half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.
plato, they say, could stick it away,
'alf a crate of whiskey every day!
aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle,
and Hobbes was fond of his Dram.
and Rene Descartes was a drunken fart:
"I drink, therefore I am."
yes, Socrates himself is particularly missed;
a lovely little thinker, but a bugger when he's pissed. \\
owie, my foot's asleep.