Issue #0920| If this is Paradise, I wish I had a lawn mower.
I have no idea why I'm updating. I don't have much to say in the way of worthy update material; life has been going much the same as it always does in the summer.
It got blisteringly hot on Wednesday, which is when Michelle and I drove to Playland. It was fun, but when I realized that neither of us run to our favorite rides or scream while we're on roller coasters or anything, I thought, "Yep. Another nail in the coffin of my childish enthusiasm. How tragic."
Regardless of my passing thoughts of regret, I had a good time at Playland, despite the heat. The line-ups were so short there was barely any waiting involved.
When we left Playland we felt DISGUSTING from sweating and being in the oppressive heat all day, so we got towels from home when we got to Mission and we drove to Hayward Lake. When we got to Hayward, we sat around in the silty water past the bridge on the banks, and I guess two posses were up at the lake because these guys started loudly mouthing each other off, and mouthing turned to...well, hitting in the face, etc. etc. So as we sat on our rocks below the bridge, in the lovely last hours of the summer day at the lake, what we heard was,
"I'MA BURY YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
"FUCK YOU" [fuck this, fuck that, fuck you, fuck it, fuck]
So the gangsters brawled it out at the lake on the outskirts of Mission and Stave Falls, and I said loudly,
"What, it's gonna go DOWN at Hayward? We don't have clubs to fight at so we fight at our LAKES? How SAD is that??" Even if they called their HOMIES for back-up, it would still take them like 20-25 minutes to drive all the way out there just to fight anyways, unless they're complete hicks and live that far out of town already. Who fights at a lake and pretends to be a gangster, I ask you.
Either way, everything's been fine. Given the activities of said gangsters, though, I'm not entirely sure the kids are alright. I'm just not sure.
It got blisteringly hot on Wednesday, which is when Michelle and I drove to Playland. It was fun, but when I realized that neither of us run to our favorite rides or scream while we're on roller coasters or anything, I thought, "Yep. Another nail in the coffin of my childish enthusiasm. How tragic."
Regardless of my passing thoughts of regret, I had a good time at Playland, despite the heat. The line-ups were so short there was barely any waiting involved.
When we left Playland we felt DISGUSTING from sweating and being in the oppressive heat all day, so we got towels from home when we got to Mission and we drove to Hayward Lake. When we got to Hayward, we sat around in the silty water past the bridge on the banks, and I guess two posses were up at the lake because these guys started loudly mouthing each other off, and mouthing turned to...well, hitting in the face, etc. etc. So as we sat on our rocks below the bridge, in the lovely last hours of the summer day at the lake, what we heard was,
"I'MA BURY YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
"FUCK YOU" [fuck this, fuck that, fuck you, fuck it, fuck]
So the gangsters brawled it out at the lake on the outskirts of Mission and Stave Falls, and I said loudly,
"What, it's gonna go DOWN at Hayward? We don't have clubs to fight at so we fight at our LAKES? How SAD is that??" Even if they called their HOMIES for back-up, it would still take them like 20-25 minutes to drive all the way out there just to fight anyways, unless they're complete hicks and live that far out of town already. Who fights at a lake and pretends to be a gangster, I ask you.
Either way, everything's been fine. Given the activities of said gangsters, though, I'm not entirely sure the kids are alright. I'm just not sure.