so believe when i say i know better than you
Time check, mutha fuckas. 4:23 in the PM. Eastern standard time for all you stank-ass west coast hobos in the hizzle. Me? I'm angling to shove off this office coil in a few of what the Pasadena Amish call "minutes." That's right, ladies and germs, the weekend, in and of itself, is about to begin. I mean, I feel like it's October 27, 2004, and having just turned 19 years old earlier that day, I anticipated a World Series victory for the Boston Red Sox after 86 years of futility. I mean, "Back to Foulke, stabs, he's got it. Underhand to first, and the Red Sox are World Champions for the first time in 86 years! Can you believe it!?" Joe Castiglione style.
Essentially, this iteration of Ramble-Tron 3.0, as part of Tangent-Fest '07, is meant only to occupy my time as I await the glorious exeunt of my corporeal being via bicycle towards that magical, mystical, sometimes quite whimsical land known as Potowomut. Whenever I leave work on my bike, I always imagine the Modern Lovers song "Ride on Down the Highway" playing in the background. But, seriously: I don't even ride on the highway to get home! That's so appropos....NOT!
So, we'll see how all THAT works out. I know you're all pulling for me. In the immortal words of the samurai master Benchukuo Matzahara, "Surf's up, brah! Catch ya later! TUBULAR!"
Essentially, this iteration of Ramble-Tron 3.0, as part of Tangent-Fest '07, is meant only to occupy my time as I await the glorious exeunt of my corporeal being via bicycle towards that magical, mystical, sometimes quite whimsical land known as Potowomut. Whenever I leave work on my bike, I always imagine the Modern Lovers song "Ride on Down the Highway" playing in the background. But, seriously: I don't even ride on the highway to get home! That's so appropos....NOT!
So, we'll see how all THAT works out. I know you're all pulling for me. In the immortal words of the samurai master Benchukuo Matzahara, "Surf's up, brah! Catch ya later! TUBULAR!"