tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31022164337382608342024-03-19T20:34:54.640-07:00The Random Rants & Ramblings Of A Remedial Geniusyeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-83454225829799519622012-08-01T11:03:00.002-07:002012-08-01T12:36:14.164-07:00The 17+ Top Reasons Why Christopher Nolan Can Suck My Dick For Buttfucking Me With...THE DARK KNIGHT RISES (**Contains spoilers. Duh, dipshit.)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONk_1ENqKY3Qg0dbDlYImLSWlgsNeBpn7sbmwG3XzB3K6sNzJoGTSFklyEZ22Mi82GquuU1CEGxlJwq46QfDDtQrXVC9E0cQ9CwTHX_cKOqagm5IDjzjA0dtK8uU2F7uhXM4hJe89Too/s1600/Image34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="467" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjONk_1ENqKY3Qg0dbDlYImLSWlgsNeBpn7sbmwG3XzB3K6sNzJoGTSFklyEZ22Mi82GquuU1CEGxlJwq46QfDDtQrXVC9E0cQ9CwTHX_cKOqagm5IDjzjA0dtK8uU2F7uhXM4hJe89Too/s640/Image34.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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~Why not instead of tying the rope around your waist (which btw should break your back every time you fall) just <i>CLIMB THE ROPE TO FREEDOM?!</i> BUT as we learned in the movie, you can heal a broken spine by hanging from a rope around your armpits so giving your freshly healed back a 50mph jerk from the sky is probably the proper aftercare step. Also, kidney punches fix broken spines.<br />
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~While Bats & the cat are in the middle of a circle of heavily armed thugs that are each politely taking turns runnin into the circle to get their asses kicked like a low budget 70's kung fu flick instead of just shooting them in the face, they decide to pause real quick & have a witty little exchange about no guns/no killing.<br />
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~When they reveal that police officer John Blake's real name is Robin to insinuate that he's gonna be Robin even though Robin's real name was NEVER really Robin? You know...<i>DICK GRAYSON?!</i> The never-a-cop circus performer! Yeah. That guy.<br />
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~A giant man with an armed posse bursts into wall street and does all these exchanges to disrupt the financial institutions. Why don't they just cancel the transactions, or not approve them on account of them being put through by a giant man with an armed posse.<br />
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~Or that the cops decide to let a giant man with an armed posse go because it's much more relevant to go after a guy who is impossible to catch that's been missing for 8 years and is much more equipped to stop a giant man with an armed posse.<br />
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~How about sending EVERY SINGLE OFFICER IN TOWN to the same underground location at once.<br />
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~Or having over 3,000 officers trapped underground for over 3 months and then having each and every one of them come out cleanly shaven because I'm sure personal grooming is topping priorities when you're stuck with a bunch of dudes crapping in the same place you sleep shoulder to shoulder.<br />
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~The prison in a hole in the middle of nowhere has out-of-country cable TV.<br />
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~Do we even dare touch on the fusion bomb? Oh, that just takes a dude three minutes to turn into a devastating weapon of mass destruction. It's cool. He's a nuclear physicist. 3 minutes tops. No problem. Never mind.<br />
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~Never mind the impending tsunami or fallout likely to turn Gotham into a city of Chernobyl zombies. You know...from the six mile nuclear blast going off within eyeshot just a few hundred yards away over the top of the surface of the water?<br />
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~Bane makes it a point to talk about how he was born and raised in the darkness of that pit to prove that he's adapted to it even though the pit has no ceiling because its design is to instill false hope in the prisoners by constantly showing them the sky and then finding out that Talia Al Ghul was the only child ever born there.<br />
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~Let's not forget that the end of that movie Batman had gotten shanked most egregiously in the lung, with a twist. So along with that, a broken back and no knees he still can walk, fight and mange to operate a flying wind-plane.<br />
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~Alfred apparently turned to vapor during the attack on Gotham until it was all over and he decided to make couple quick cameos at the end with the most hard-to-look-at crying face I've seen since the last time I saw anything with Julianne Moore and then an oh-so-thought-provoking Inceptiony ending that implies that he's either back to his creepy Florence fantasies of of Christian Bale's protruding IMAX eye mole or that Bruce Wayne somehow escaped a NUCLEAR BLAST and decided to hideout right out in the open with Ms. ain't-got-shit-on-Michelle-Pfeiffer with his super billionaire celebrity most-recognizable-in-the-DC-Universe face.<br />
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~<i>Minor petty point since we're on a roll:</i> How does Bane eat and drink anyway? Or shave. Dude's bald. Clean bald. And no chemo. Dude's got eyebrows.<br />
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~It takes Gordon a thirty year old vague quote to finally put the pieces together, <i>BUT</i> it only takes a Bruce Wayne smile for a young orphan John Blake to figure out the biggest secret Gotham has that <i>NOBODY EVER ELSE COULD</i> even though <b><i>BATMAN NEVER SMILES!!!</i></b><br />
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~Maybe we can talk about whatever dick asked Tom Hardy what Sean Connery would sound like as a carnival barker with a Vader mask on. No? OK. Moving on then....<br />
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~<u><b>AND MY PERSONAL FAVORITE:</b></u> How Bruce Wayne climbed out of that pit out in the middle of some far off desert all filthy & broken with absolutely nothing and then magically emerges from the shadows in another part of the globe in less than a day all cleanly groomed in the center of Gotham which was on complete lockdown from Bane who also took time out of his carefully scheduled master plan to escort a crippled Wayne across the world just to give him a speech on false hope instead of just having his goombas dump his limp body down there. Bruce Wayne had no money, no ID, no bat crap, dude didn't even have Alfred anymore, but somehow not only managed to travel the world in record time and get into the country without being able to so much as identify himself, but also got into a town with no bridges across a frozen bay with a knee that magically healed since he was gimping on it in the beginning because I'm sure Bane let him stay in the prison with his magic Gump brace so he could walk normally once the old guy right-hooked his vertebrae back into place while dangling like a holocaust piñata. Now that's crack writing.<br />
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I gotta admit....before I saw Dark Knight Rises, I would see posts from those that saw it who would say how corny or cheesy or whatever other derogative food term they'd use to describe it and I thought "Wow. You must be dumb. You probably didn't get it. There's no way. Nope. You're dumb. That's the only thing that makes sense here." Well, I'm here to say now that I would like to apologize to those that I thought that about. I know I already posted about my utter disgust with the sheer negligence of that movie's "writing," but the more I think about it, the more issues arise in my mind about it. I almost want to see it again just to spot the other obvious mistakes and gaping holes they failed to spackle in that I may have missed in my distracted state from focusing so hard on not screaming in protest in the middle of the theater. I can't think of the last time I was so disappointed in a film. Finally seeing it was like finally getting to bone your #1 dream girl and finding out she's a dude. Years of teasers of her batting her eyelashes at you, leaning over too far to expose a little butt crack, driving you wild, she lets you come over, you're ready, this is it, and as you sit there hard as a rock, she shoves her hand down your pants. Here we go! Finally, right! Then you start to notice the subtle feelings of slight calluses around you, your eyes wander to an Adam's apple...is that stubble? Fuck! What's happening? This can't be! And then some random character is implied to be a future Robin and you feel her thrust her big fat dick in your ass. So much anticipation...So many expectations....and then...Dick. You got dicked. I got dicked. It happened just the day before yesterday and yet, it still won't leave my head. Dick. Fuckin dick, man.yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-42131319381732928292012-07-08T14:09:00.001-07:002012-07-08T14:36:49.046-07:00SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT GOOGLE+!! Nobody gives a shit.<div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu4AWdlM0U9_9noO4MSL6ga6CUhg4i0FGcA6l0fXFNfgLaYxo_nTLnDJXG5UxaXkeFCyzIglFXPSDSrBrdzI5EyMXmMH4WJA2pzBbm-HuKoho9CgDculYKi6fbN7-8hbWGhQ4NaMkuYqc/s1600/203550_162195483852379_4731914_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu4AWdlM0U9_9noO4MSL6ga6CUhg4i0FGcA6l0fXFNfgLaYxo_nTLnDJXG5UxaXkeFCyzIglFXPSDSrBrdzI5EyMXmMH4WJA2pzBbm-HuKoho9CgDculYKi6fbN7-8hbWGhQ4NaMkuYqc/s1600/203550_162195483852379_4731914_n.jpg" /></a></div><div><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Tahoma;"><i><b><span style="font-size: large;"><u>Alright, goddammit.</u></span></b></i> I have to shake a quick rant off my chest about this Google+ bullshit again. I'm not really mad at the site exactly as much as I am at its faithful users that all shove the same "you're doing it wrong" phrases and "you have to treat it like a party or a new bar" analogies in the faces of average Joe Facebook user like they all read it from the same handbook to become a camp counselor at the summer retreat for every kid you used to beat up in high school. I almost wrote this last night after a quick debate with yet another one of its hopeless faithfuls, but then I figured, "No. I'm gonna finally give it a test drive the way these fuckin dorks say I should before I slam it again." You know, like the old blind man and the elephant tale (three blind men all feel different parts of the same elephant, but only one part each and when they discuss it later, they're all in disagreement over what they experienced. Blah blah blah.). I figured I'd dip a finger in the same part of the elephant as these nerds defending it. Who also, by the way, are the kind of people that you would NEVER invite to a party, let alone let finger your elephant, so I'm kinda lost to where they all find the nerve to use the same party analogy. I don't use quantum physics analogies about the shit I like. I don't know anything about the shit. You smell what I'm steppin in here? Of course you do. Nerdy faggots. That's what I'm steppin here. Aahh, but I digress. I'm not gonna go so far as to say that G+ is a dying platform. No, I wouldn't say that at all. It sure as fuck doesn't seem to be a growing one though. I gave it a seriously fair shot after it was first released to the public almost a year ago. I did and fuck you if you say I didn't. I imported over 1,000 personal contacts, I posted regularly, I interacted with complete strangers on various topics, I even posted links to it on my Facebook page in an attempt to trickle in some kind of a familiar crowd, and guess fuckin what....nobody showed up. Nobody. Not a soul. And all the Faggle Plussers said "Well, you just gotta give it time. Watch. By xxx date, it's going to take over 'Failbook'." (Clever, by the way. Dummies.) Well, xxx date came and went and all the Fagglers changed their tune to "Well, it's more of an interest site for now. You should follow things that interest you like on Twitter." Well, uhh, that's what I have Twitter for and I don't even use that unless I'm quickly scrolling through witty one-liners from comedians when I'm on the throne droppin a grumpy. Anyway, it's been almost a year now and I have yet to see any significant change with the site other than design layout and some minor new features. Nothing really to draw in a crowd and it's still the same handful of strangers posting about dorky tech shit and cute fucking kitty pictures. The opposing side of my debate last night used the old played-out analogy that we need to see it as going to new bar, looking around, not seeing anyone we know, and leaving because of it. The same analogy that I'm sure any of you that have also resisted crossing over have heard countless times since the nerds of the world found this medium for creating a support group for the friendless and pasty. Anyone that knows me knows that I wouldn't do that at new bar. I can make the most of pretty much any dull situation and I don't see that scenario being very fitting in the slightest. I see it more as going to a new bar, not seeing anyone I know, trying to fit in, and finding that everyone there is playing Magic The Gathering instead of pool or darts or something cool and discussing the unimaginative sexual acts they would perform on various cast members of Deep Space Nine while some dipshit in the corner plays shitty Nickelback covers on a out-of-tune acoustic. That's why we're leaving. "Well, pfft...now I'm just going to talk down to you in a condescending tone because I'm still bitter about not having any friends in high school and you're knocking the only outlet for social interaction that I have as an adult." Ok. I may have paraphrased that last one, but you fuckin get it. So, before I started to write this last night, I stopped myself and tried to feel up the rest of this elephant. I searched my interests beginning with musicians I appreciate, but I only found painfully dorky conversations about the acts I dig and unfortunately, I don't dig the desperately naughty rhymes of pseudo-evil clowns, I've never written "Metallica" in white-out on my Jansport, and I don't make-out with too many dudes in my apartment so Daft Punk doesn't get a whole lot of play around these parts. Ok, so much for that angle. So I move onto movies. I'm a pretty huge film buff so I search some of my favorite directors. Nothing. So I search my favorite movie of all time: Requiem For A Dream. There's gotta be something there, right? Yeah, family photos of Jared fucking Leto. I don't even give a shit about my own friends' family pics, I sure as shit don't give two fucks about this dingleberry's. Hmmm. So I tried just diving into ongoing conversations that I saw around the site. That worked, but quickly bored me due to the nerdy perspectives being served back on the topics at hand. Ho fuckin hum. I also found that even the average Faggle+ superusers never really ever had any threads that exceeded 20 comments. I wouldn't say the site is necessarily failing, bit it certainly isn't excelling in any way. It's definitely found its niche with tech geeks, social media gurus, some photographers, and the occasional Joe Anybody that uses it like Facebook, but I don't see anything at all that would lead me to believe that it can draw in the masses in numbers anywhere near what it would take to overthrow the almost 1 billion active users on Facebook anytime soon, as was frequently discussed upon its release last year. But still, Google is adamant on reminding us of the fact that it's newest endeavor into the social market is the fastest growing social medium in history, which technically, is true, but are these numbers honest? That's up for debate. I've had countless friends tell me that they had a G+ account and didn't even know it. So if it's the fastest growing social network out there, then why isn't anybody on it? Well, it's because since its release, anybody who has signed up for ANY type of Google account whether it be Gmail, Blogger, a YouTube channel, etc., Google has taken it upon themselves to go ahead and set you up with a G+ profile and if you aren't paying attention, you probably won't even know it until you get an email notification one day that says one of your email contacts has added you to a circle in a website you've never heard of. Oh, but wait...the shit gets better. Now, for those of you with Android devices that are eligible for the software upgrade to ICS, you are now FORCED to have the G+ app without even the option to uninstall it from your device. Pretty neat, huh? Pretty neat how they are the fastest growing out there by forcing you to have an account. Now, you may be upset with The Zuck for changing your FB to the Timeline feed or the countless ads tucked away in the margin of your screen, but at least you're on the site by your own volition. Nobody fuckin forced you to be there. Google calling their social site the fastest growing out there is like calling Auschwitz the fastest growing summer camp in all the world. Sure, you're on there, but you never asked to be. I'd also like to point out that both Pinterest AND Instagram have emerged since the release of Faggle+ and I see way more activity from my friends on those two sites than G+ and I'm not even on them. Like Google finding it's niche with the dorks of the world, it seems that Instagram may have found theirs as well with the narcissistic whores and obnoxious douche-bags, but let's be real. Those of us that have been out there in the world away from our computers have a hell of a lot more friends in those groups than we do lonely hermits who spend their days playing WOW in their mom's fuckin basement while blogging about how stupid those of us who get laid and have actually been to parties are for not knowing that "WOOT" is a term originated by pasty-assed faggots that wear wizard hats on weekends for their Dungeons and Dragon play-dates. I'm getting off topic again. It just seems like a really desperate move to me on Google's part and yet another one to add to my ever-growing list of reasons to dislike the site. So yeah, that's a big FUCK YOU to that and I know a whole LARPing field full of nerdy recluses are gonna read this shit in between writing Battlestar Galactaca fan fiction and jacking off to Jerry Ryan internet memes and they're gonna have some not-really-witty retort or condescending two-cent bullshit to throw in defense of the only thing to ever show them acceptance on any type of a social medium and to them I say this: You're gay, faggot. You always have been. You didn't get wedgies in school for nothing. The only reason you hate Facebook is because you really don't have too many real-life friends and your page is imploding with a sadness as heavy as a forgotten dying sun. I mean, Kudos to you for finding something to run with where you have finally found a group of folks to relate to your odd fascination with Japanese cartoons and Star Wars jokes. That's awesome. Good for you, but save your bullshit defense of your precious Faggle+ (Adam-coined phrase. Patent pending.) for the minuscule million of you or so that actually give a shit about it. The nearly billion of us that DON'T give a shit about what Chris Hardwick had for dinner don't want any part of your gay little reindeer games, Heir Himmler. </span></div><div><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Tahoma;">As Forbes Magazine put it, "At worst, it's a complete ghost town. At best, it's a site full of boring strangers." I agree with that to a certain extent. I, too, used to use the term "ghost town" to describe the site. After using it more, I now see that it's more like the town of Nilbog from the movie "Troll 2." It's pretty populated and, at first glance, it seems normal enough, but something just doesn't feel right and then at the end, you realize that it's because you're the only human there and everyone else is actually a repulsive goblin (SPOILER ALERT!: Nilbog is "goblin" spelled backward! O.M.Goodness, right?!). </span></div><div><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Tahoma;">That's my few cents on the topic so there you have it, nerds (and please don't correct me with the breakdown of the different definitions of nerds, dorks, dweebs, geeks, and losers the way that homosexuals breakdown homo, queer, and faggot. Let's be real again. That may fly in your circles, but your all just lame dweeby faggots to the rest of us. It hurts. I know. The world's a cruel place, but I'm just the messenger, baby. Hate me for my views on your Faggle+, but don't place blame on me for Earth's view on your mom raising a virgin.). The buffet is open. Let's hear it. Come. Sway the opinions of the population's majority. I admit that it is possible that I may eat these words someday, but as for right now, NOBODY really seems to dig that shit. Well, I mean, at least nobody with real life human friends anyway. So suck my dick, you lame dweeby faggots!</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvVs6ExVPIzS8FfLoF7p8jqfdAr7X2wTcQGAv2vqrc1KwIsIQPWEilZvuVnoens4R51UgXqt9GuleLjR9zHhA2ZpdMdq_athzsBPbmw7OoeC-8ZPMSef5bulvC9JmmocgyRwBvAtknBE/s1600/i_hate_you_made_by_swiix-wallpaper-1920x1200.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUvVs6ExVPIzS8FfLoF7p8jqfdAr7X2wTcQGAv2vqrc1KwIsIQPWEilZvuVnoens4R51UgXqt9GuleLjR9zHhA2ZpdMdq_athzsBPbmw7OoeC-8ZPMSef5bulvC9JmmocgyRwBvAtknBE/s320/i_hate_you_made_by_swiix-wallpaper-1920x1200.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Tahoma;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Tahoma;">Thank you.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Tahoma;">That is all.</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="border-collapse: separate; border-spacing: 0px; font-family: Tahoma;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: Tahoma;">~YeeahhBuddie De La Grasa Salchicha</span></div>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-55646519635254562962012-07-01T00:38:00.002-07:002012-07-01T16:04:10.451-07:00NOBODY FUCKING CARES! SO JUST SACK THE FUCK UP, YOU DRIZZY-BANGIN', TWI-HARD, SOGGY SKINNY JEANED, JIZZ-MOPS!<div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"My shoe's untied!"</td></tr>
</tbody></table> I think that this shit in schools nowadays where nobody loses and everybody wins an award for fucking nothing is sickening. Are you really protecting these kids' feelings? Sure, but at what fuckin cost, man? You're making these little snack-packs so sensitive that they can't deal with disappointment once it's time to leave the nest. "Oh, I didn't get the job. My life's over. Guess I'll kill myself." "Deary me, the lady left. Guess I'll cry to that kid on the internet that I met one time in kindergarten 15 years ago." "I got that new Drake album! Wanna go listen to it while we sit in a room full of dudes & chat about our emotions?" "My feelings are hurt." "Please don't put me down. I'm sad." Sad?? Put you down??? Drake album???? These things are not something that belong in a grown-up's vocab, you fucking fallopian tube!! What the fuck, man? Kids need competition in their lives so that they know that sometimes YOU FUCKING LOSE!! The world is jampacked with disafuckinpointment, little sister! Get em used to it. It's like those fuckers that handle venomous snakes. After a while, they build an immunity to the poison. Sure, they get sick at first, but it doesn't phase em in the long. These kids need to build defenses to learn how to shake the world's venom off. Otherwise, you got all these moist fuckin towellettes sloggin around poutin to fuckin strangers about speed bumps in their sad ass lives. "Hey, man, how's it goin?" "Not so good. My girlfriend got mad at me for buying the wrong flavored creamer. It hurt my feelings and now I'm sad." What? I don't give a shit your feelings, faggot! It's a fuckin greeting. Say "good" or "fine," leave it at that and get the fuck outta my face with that garbage. You got problems? Huh? World got you down? Awww. It must be rough being the only one with issues. Please, inform the world about the argument you had with the girlfriend you met three fucking weeks ago. Then, do me a favor...go walk around outside and find the first person you see with a smile on their face. You see that shit? That's a mask, motherfucker, because I guarandamntee you that bitch has issues too, but they put that mask on in public because that's what grown folks fucking do! Nobody gives two shits or a flying fuck about your goddamn problems cuz we all got our own and we put on this mask on the outside because we know how inconsiderate it is to burden others with bullshit that they more than likely couldn't care less about because they got enough of their own bullshit weighing down their shoulders. "But I just need someone to talk to." Yeah? Well they got folks who get paid for that shit so unless you wanna break me off a bankroll, you can drag your little heartbroken feet off somewhere else. Your teachers & parents should've treated you like shit when you fucked up as a kid. They should've let that snake bite your sorry ass a few times. That's not my fault. Don't punish me because you were raised like a sick fuckin butterfly. No, you don't need meds. No, you don't need a drink or to smoke a bowl cuz once that shit wears off, you're just gonna start bringin people down again. So just fuck off, fairy. Learn to fuckin deal. Nobody gives a fuck about you and nobody's gonna fuckin give you a goddamn ribbon for losing this round. You lost. You got hurt. QUIT FUCKIN TWEETING TEARY-EYED SAD-FACE EMOTICONS ABOUT IT AND GRAB YOUR GODDAMN NUTSACK, YOU SORRY CUNT! Throw some dirt on that shit and walk it off. You're done. On to the next round. Sappy motherfuckers make me fuckin sick as shit & they're everywhere I go lately. Work, facebook, outside my home....I can't escape these mustache-clad labias. I hate you. Goddammit, I just plain fucking hate you. Your mother fucking failed and she should be plenty fuckin disappointed at the soft little wad of malleable clit-sweat putty that she neglected to prepare for the world. You, boy, are a disgrace to fuzzy-peached real men everywhere. You should cut off that useless inverted vagina you use to take your little pee-pees and donate it to some respectable bull-dike that I'm sure could kick your ass in a pissing contest.<br />
Am I a one string banjo? Sure seems like it lately, but if I am, I'm Ronny fuckin Cox and your that little inbred retard dueling me at the beginning of Deliverance. Yeah, you'll probably outplay me, but at the end of the day, you're still a sad little retard that no one wants to be around.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OvYXpir2FR-r06u8GI1-yDkfVoWuHyOFzLN8slyFRcm4kmpAwrI4yjoHWgEjaip3hip7Ax5jG64FYfM3ZFgZubKZWYU3ReFEwDBmqbVaqjKGsnqN9Z4pPvc9YvNV7C0HjmCEdRY664w/s1600/tumblr_ls1soxHWQQ1qbxaj6o1_400.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6OvYXpir2FR-r06u8GI1-yDkfVoWuHyOFzLN8slyFRcm4kmpAwrI4yjoHWgEjaip3hip7Ax5jG64FYfM3ZFgZubKZWYU3ReFEwDBmqbVaqjKGsnqN9Z4pPvc9YvNV7C0HjmCEdRY664w/s200/tumblr_ls1soxHWQQ1qbxaj6o1_400.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"Why doesn't Wayne ever look at me<br />
when we kiss anymore?"</td></tr>
</tbody></table> I'll step down off my soap box for now, but you little self-tanning, skinny jean rockin, Drake fan fallopa-faggots should really think about what we talked about here today. You're murdering the future of our gender. You are the beginning of the end of our world. Not pollution. Not global fuckin warming. Not any kind of war. No. YOU! Just you. So, honestly, PLEASE...please stop openly advertising your miniscule bullshit first-world pimples on the ass that is your life to the rest of us because we're too motherfuckin busy trying to stay on top of our own two feet. Learn to tie your own fuckin shoes, faggot.<br />
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</div><div style="text-align: right;">Thank you,</div><div style="text-align: right;">YeeahhBuddie De La Grasa Salchicha</div><div style="text-align: right;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC8IYVkrdutzczOozOI3BrmuNNdniCKnJVx1Lp0NELI5E3qRc-fyw9_ACUV-e6WngIvVnwiorUY_yydTKRc0uxWLr2LH4qaQ84LW51w0K2ovJkcpJEDTfv4gYX1mTezZ8AR5PxcoyrdFk/s1600/keep-calm-and-man-the-fuck-up-4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC8IYVkrdutzczOozOI3BrmuNNdniCKnJVx1Lp0NELI5E3qRc-fyw9_ACUV-e6WngIvVnwiorUY_yydTKRc0uxWLr2LH4qaQ84LW51w0K2ovJkcpJEDTfv4gYX1mTezZ8AR5PxcoyrdFk/s640/keep-calm-and-man-the-fuck-up-4.png" width="547" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-82326805608841487282012-06-25T00:55:00.003-07:002012-07-01T00:46:20.857-07:00"Lithium Lesbos & Stationary Trains"<div class="Standard" style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: large;"> </span> **This is just a quick 10-page sample of the current follow-up to "Viaja Bizarro" that I've been working on over the past few months as I battle a spell of the old writer's block after having a newborn. A lot of folks have been nagging me to get the next one out, so until I finish it up, here's just a taste of things to come. This is just the intro. The adventures are soon to follow.....</i></div><div class="Standard" style="text-align: left;"><i>Thank you.</i></div><div class="Standard" style="text-align: center;"><b><u><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><br />
</span></u></b></div><div class="Standard" style="text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-size: 18pt;">~ONE~</span></u></b></div><div class="Standard" style="text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: left;"><u><span style="font-size: 18pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="Standard"> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><b><i><u><span style="font-size: large;">"ARE YOU WEARING MAKEUP, FAGGOT?"</span></u></i></b> My so-called best friend and 300+lb Samoan P.I.C., Cannon, yelled out for all to hear like the town fucking crier as he charged up to me in the outdoor halls of our summer school.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_8d6W16T8KAtYAdHxGojXaasKr35O_0ckHZbMz5nWzRQWq9DtWjg4PAorVBBtSLiiWQsljrQxmAdh4HCfoWPLc8wuXsyPj2tIom-1Rl56JAMwyQvvYvmtAl2-9nYhV09BsITQNZIWxPM/s1600/DSC01273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_8d6W16T8KAtYAdHxGojXaasKr35O_0ckHZbMz5nWzRQWq9DtWjg4PAorVBBtSLiiWQsljrQxmAdh4HCfoWPLc8wuXsyPj2tIom-1Rl56JAMwyQvvYvmtAl2-9nYhV09BsITQNZIWxPM/s320/DSC01273.JPG" width="320" /></a> “What? Hell no, I'm not wearing makeup, bitch! Fuck you!” I practically cowered as I tried turning my head away in a weak attempt to hide a face from which I could feel the icy heat of terror-sweat beginning to surface.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Fuck yeah, he is! Look at that shit! His bitch ass got some powdered ruse on & shit. Looks like there’s a big-ass red dot under that shit too!” A brace-faced dick-shit named Corbin, who looked like Toby Turtle from Disney’s Robin Hood wrapped in electrical tape, piped in from my peripheral. The same black fucker that we had tortured for years for having such a white name.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Who the fuck are <i>you </i>talkin' to, ass-fucker? With your white ass name your race-hatin' mom gave you,” my defenses were up. Cannon was one thing, but I couldn't take shit from one of the fuckers that I was so used to feeding shit to, “You better go on somewhere with your shiny ass mouth, you fuckin' Black & Decker pecker wrecker!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> My efforts were pointless. All the clever diss names and all the LSD in the world couldn't save this day from being shitty. I was, in fact…wearing some of my mother's makeup.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"><br />
</div><div class="Standard"> <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">Sorry. Let me back this up a couple hours to fill you in on the origin of my plight…<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> <i>I woke up that morning with my regular ritual of an overlong teenage boy shower (wink, wink) and slappin’ some goop in my bleach-streaked dome fuzz, which looking back now, I can see was probably pretty gay looking, but I lost my virginity shortly after I bleached it the first time so I ended up keeping it from ages 13 to 17. Whatever. Shit got me my first shot at prepubescent chest pudge and funny smelling fingers. Judge all you want. Fuck you. Anyway, I was wrappin’ up the ol’ ritual and had a few minutes to spare before my regularly scheduled departure when I came across a pet toy belonging to my mom’s two cats, Maggot & Angel. It was one of those cheap made-in-China Dollar Tree toys with the suction cup base and a wobbly 18-inch spring with a little furry doodad on the tip. So to kill time, I figured, “Why not suction this thing to my forehead and chase the cats around with it hanging from my face?” Brilliant, right? Well, after doing this for about fifteen minutes I finally decided to pull the thing off and it gave me a little bit of a struggle. It finally released its grasp on me with a *pop* and revealed a perfectly rounded purple hickey. I was horrified! My beautiful face! What was a bleach-headed boy to do?? In a panic, I ran to my mother for advice. She tried soothing me by calmly telling me that it wouldn’t be a problem. Just a quick fix. No biggie. She took me in the bathroom and told me that she could easily remedy this with just a little bit of her concealer. I was far from into going to school with some bitch paint slathered across my face. That’s fucking gay (spending a half-hour in the mirror putting styling gel in your dyed hair and carefully putting each strand in its proper place in order to make it look sloppy was perfectly heterosexual though. Whatever. Again, fuck you.)! My options were minimal though and it sounded better than having what looked like a forehead Bindhi on PCP across my face so I caved. She opened up the little jar thingy and started smearing a tiny wedge of sponge through the powdery slime before lightly patting it above my brow like she was putting the finishing touches on a masterpiece. I looked in the mirror and fell into a panic. “Nobody’s gonna buy this shit!! Look at me! What the fuck? There’s an obvious circle of a different color than my skin staring right back at me!” She managed to convince me that the only reason I could see it was because I knew it was there and I was looking for it. I tested her theory by quickly glancing back and forth at my reflection. I bought it. I was young and evidently impressionable to the degree of retardation. Deep, deep down though, I knew my social doom was imminent.</i><o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"><br />
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</div><div class="Standard"> “Whatever, nigga! My braces are gonna be off someday. The evidence of your mom suckin’ on your forehead all night is gonna scar you for life!” The extended rubber bands in his mouth connected the top of his laughter to the bottom like a yawning Saint Bernard as he cackled what smelled like sour milk in my face.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “You know you’re the only person in history named Corbin to ever use that word without the ‘R’ at the end, right? Stankin’-ass Uncle Tom motherfucker. You can’t brush your fuckin’ teeth with that chicken coop in your mouth or what? You look like Flavor Flav had sex with a silverware drawer.” I was grasping at straws to redirect the growing mob’s attention away from the Maybelline blanket covering the eggplant colored portal on my nervous wide-eyed face.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Ha ha! My dude Boy George here got mad jokes!” Cannon whooped as he slapped me in the back with his 2-ton meat puppet, “Isn’t that right, white boy?” He playfully punched Corbin in the chest, putting his foul-smelling giggles to rest, “For real, you ain’t foolin’ nobody. You make Carlton Banks look like Desmond Tutu, you white-ass black blender-faced fuck!” He turned his attention back to me, “No joke though, faggot. What’s up with the Revlon? You look gay as fuck.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> I realized at that moment that I should have come up with a believable story in case I was found out. I didn’t though so I had to improv it on the spot as I stalled by wiping the lady goop from my face with the inside of my shirt. “It’s not makeup, fuckers! It’s…It’s Halloween latex for face effects that I got at Evangeline’s Costume Shop downtown a long time ago and…and I tried using it to cover up a bruise I got yesterday. It’s whatever, man.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “A bruise, huh? What’d you get the bruise from?” His disbelief was obvious as he glared at me through a studying frown.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> Shit! I didn’t think that far! I kept going off the cuff and giggled as I started to indicate that I was comfortable with the funny memory I was about to share. “Dude, right? I was taking the trash out last night, right?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Takin’ out the trash. Ok. Trash takin’. Got it. Go on.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Yeah, so, right? I’m takin’ out the trash and I trip, right? Tripped over my own feet! And…and I’m walkin’ pretty fast, right? So I fly forward and slam my dome right into the doorknob, son! Crazy, huh? Shit hurt!” I chuckled to show how silly I felt for such a mistake. My eyes darted around the mob circling me to take inventory of the people that looked like they bought it. The final count was zero.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> Cannon smirked as he rubbed his thumb across my spot of shame. “I dunno, man. That’s a fuckin’ <i>PERFECT </i>circle. You’d think that shit’d be a funny shape or somethin’. You’re hella lying.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Hell yeah, bro!” The Wayne Brady Limited Edition garbage disposal chimed back in, “Bro, you’d have to be flying in like a straight-ass line like Superman to have a doorknob make a circle like that, lyin’ ass!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> I got loud as I returned to the defensive, “Oh, is that right, <i>‘bro?’</i> Huh, <i>‘BRO?’</i> God, man, you’re so fuckin’ white dude! Shut the fuck up! I said my motherfuckin’ ass was walkin’ fast! I didn’t make science, bitch! The shit just happened! Stupid fuckin’ honky. What the fuck are you doin’ over here anyway, Painted Face? You know damn well nobody likes your Abercrombie ass!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Ha! Who you callin’ ‘Painted Face,’ CoverGirl?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Whatever. Shut up, bitch. It was a Prince Of Thieves reference, dumbfuck. God, you’re a bitch. I hate you. Fuck off.” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> <a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=3102216433738260834&postID=8232680560884148728" name="OLE_LINK8"></a>The seemingly endless barrage of transvestite makeup jokes went on for a length of time longer than I’d like to recall until Cannon finally pulled me aside a few minutes before our first bell rang.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “I understand you’re all gay now & shit. I get that, but do you still want this?” He turned his back to the crowd and slyly pulled out a tiny Ice Drops bottle from the chest pocket of his button-up plaid short-sleeve. The same breath freshening droppers that our suppliers would empty, rinse, and fill with Sacramento’s finest LSD. “Or has your new insatiable thirst for men changed your view on being cool?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “DUDE! Fuck you, man! Gimme that shit, you big fat fuck!” I snatched the vial from his beefy appendage and immediately shot two hits under my tongue.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “My nigga.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Fuck you, bitch. I hope you die in a fire.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> The bell rang out and the sea of various sheep began funneling their ways into their designated rooms like different colored pennies in a Coin Star. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “UGH! This field trip’s gonna be the shizz, me nag!” The behemoth squealed from my left on our way into class as he pumped his fist in the air.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Yeah. Fuckin’ train museum. Shwoopety-fuckin-doo.” I grumbled. For those not from the Sacramento area, the train museum downtown is probably the number one location most frequented by elementary school field trips. For some reason, our sophomore year summer school English teacher decided to schlepp us there despite the fact that each of us had been there once a year from ages 6 to 12.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Cheer the fuck up, Mary. I ain’t lookin’ at no fuckin trains! Are you kidding me? We’re gonna get fucked up, meet up with Rhino down there, re-up on some shards, & get to adventure schemin’, fool!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> This gave my soon-to-be-dead brain cells a million little erections. “For real? Rhino’s gonna be out there?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Well, na’mean, I gotta call the nigga, but hell yeah. That fool’s down to go anywhere for the almighty dollar, son! I just gotta hit him up on the payphone before we go to let him know what’s up. You got’cho scrills, right?” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Hell yeah! I got paid on Friday & I got 200 bones left to drop on Miss Crystal, bwoi!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Good, good…cuz you owe me for half this vial & that sack from Saturday, fool. I’ll cover you on the meth, but you’re gonna owe me again. I just wanted to be clear that you didn’t spend all your shit on lip gloss & body glitter.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Fuckin’ fuck off, man! It’s Halloween latex! I hope your mom gets raped.” I pulled the hood of my windbreaker up & pulled the front down over the purple yarmulke on my face. “That’s cool though, dude. Right on. So what are we gonna get into when we get down there after we cop that shit?” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Who cares? It’s downtown, fool! We’ll get down on somethin. We’ll start trippin’ by the time we leave, we’ll get spun once that nigga Rhino shows, and then who knows, kid? Buttfuck a homeless crazy? Kill a crackhead hooker in a parking garage? Play in the doo-doo from the dookie-sacks under the horse carriages? It don’t matter, fool! Shit’s gonna get nuts, no doubt.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “You lovebirds staying outside to hold hands all day, or do you maybe want to join us?” The crackly, soul-crushing voice of Mr. Vance, the English teacher, butted into our laying of plans from the doorway of his classroom. That old, cranky, balding, gray lipped bastard you could just tell from meeting had never known love and would surely die alone. You know him.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “I was hopin’ to join you & maybe hold <i>your</i> hand, Mr. Vancy-Vance Vance-Man!” I shot back in a tone of exaggerated excitement.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Cute, Smith. Close your mouth and sit down.” He took a double-take at my face, “What’s that on your forehead?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Goddamn it.” I sighed in defeat. My high spirits were murdered. Like I said, <i>soul-crushing</i>. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> Head hanging low, windbreaker hood up like a depressed emo Jedi, I made my way through the aisles of the musty, thick-aired, dimly lit room to my seat with two Vietnamese girls, Kao Dong Vu and Tranny Ho, to my left and to my right was some hill-billy hick fuck named Jared who had a painfully thick southern accent. I don’t know what deep-south shit-hole he came from, but he sure as fuck wasn’t local. When high enough, I could never understand a single word any of these three were saying. I’d just stare with the occasional slow blink. Luckily, my acid hadn’t kicked into gear yet so I was able to make out enough of their nouns and verbs to put together something close to a general idea of what they were trying to get across in my head.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> When I sat down, the two funny named girls started quietly giggling with their hands over their mouths like Asian schoolgirl stereotypes and whispering shit that sounded like rewinding cassettes.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “What’s funny, ladies? Did you think of something clever to add to your dramatic rose sketches? Huh? Somethin’ hilarious happen on Pokémon yesterday?” I knew exactly what those dumb little bitches were snickering about. I was just trying to beat them to some kind of an insulting punch.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> Tranny straightened her face, “Yo’ soo dumb, Adams. Pokémon ees Jap’hanese. We ah Vietnamese. Whott ees on yo’ fo’head?” The giggling resumed.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “<i>’Whott?’</i> Huh? <i>‘Whott ees on mah fo’head?’</i> What the fuck is on your fuckin’ forehead, huh? Dumb bitches. Y’all couldn’t even see my <i>fo’head</i> if I stood up, ya non-peripheral havin’ sluts! Hey, you know those GIs that raped your moms gave you fucked up ass names, right? Yours sounds like Cow Dick and yours means Drag-Queen Prostitute in this country. You know that, right?” I took a breath, “And for future reference, there’s only one of me. Just one, stupid. Stop fuckin’ pluralizing my goddamn name.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “MEESTAH BANCE!” Cow Dick called out.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “What did I tell you about that mouth, Spot?” The old sack of wrinkles dropped his pen and stood up as the class filled the room with roars of laughter at the clever moniker the decrepit fuck had just given me. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Thank you, sir.” I tightened my lips, “Thank you very much for that.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">I glanced down at my pager under my jacket. 10 minutes in. This trip couldn’t come soon enough.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="Standard"> <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-align: center;"><b><u><span style="font-size: 18pt;">~TWO~<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></div><div class="Standard" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="Standard"> We sat there for what felt like days while the old man took roll call and collected permission slips and all that jazz. I counted down each minute, waiting for my brain to hit the warp. Nothing yet. Not even a body-high. 12 minutes in. Watched pots don’t boil. Distract yourself. Don’t look for the trip. Let the trip find you.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “For real, though, mayne,” My distressed impatience was interrupted from the right by the redneck next to me leaning across the gap between us, “How’d you git dat circle on yer dome ther?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Shut the fuck up, Cowboy Way. Ask your uncle momma how I got it. Don’t you have livestock to fuck somewhere or somethin’? Leave me alone, you funny-talkin’ fuck-stick. I don’t even know what you’re sayin’ to me right now.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Da-yum, girl! You a feisty lil firecracker ain’t you?” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Oh, my god, man. Is this really happening?” I sighed under my breath as I buried my spotted face in my hands before checking my pager again. 13 minutes in?? What the fuck?! This shit is ridiculous. I vented my frustration with the fact that time had apparently stopped at my Alabaman adversary, “Swear to God, dude. Shut the fuck up. Get back to you Guns ‘N Ammo or your Ted Nugent picture book before I buttfuck your sister’s face & she calls off your wedding.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> The drawling buffoon sunk back into his chair shaking his head, “I like you, mayne. You crazy.” He chuckled with his eyes fixed on whatever camouflage-laden magazine he had been thumbing through.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Shut up, cunt. I hate you. Go back to the bayou.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Alright,” Vance announced and paused for dramatic effect or something, “Who’s ready?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> All the giddy little automatons surrounding me cheered out in glee like they were hitting the climax of a rollercoaster. Fuckin’ faggots.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> 17 minutes in. Skin’s getting kinda sensitive. This is a good sign. This is early.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> Cannon and I linked eyes through the shuffling dummies to telepathically suggest in unison that we’d take our time and end up the last ones to leave so we could sneak off to the payphone to order a crystal meth delivery. We both nodded.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> 20 minutes in. This shit’s pretty good. I think my bones are already laughing.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> We drag our feet along nonchalantly behind the chatty mob of squawk-boxes and inch our way along until we reach a turn at the end of the hall. Once everyone was around the corner, we turned and ran in a full sprint in the opposite direction to the payphone. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Touch my bellybutton, fool,” I exclaimed as I waited for him to dial the number, “Tell me if this shit feels crazy.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Damn, man! Already?” His attention quickly shifted to the phone, “WHAT’S UP, FOOL?!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Yeah, man. EWW! My finger smells funny now. Smell my finger.” I ignored the fact that he was amidst negotiating drop-offs and meeting points as I lifted my sour pointer up to his lip.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “GET THE FUCK OFF ME, FAGGOT!!” He covered the microphone, “Go stand over there or somethin’. Grown folks is talkin’ here.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Tell Rhino I said ‘Hi!’” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “What?” he was laughing at me, “Nobody fuckin cares, homo. GET YOUR FUCKIN’ FINGER OUTTA MY DAMN FACE, FOOL! Yeah, man! This dude’s already wiggin’ out & he’s got a fuckin’ butthole on his face…I dunno, man…Yeah…You’ll see.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> Luckily for their conversation, I was suddenly redirected to the dancing spots of sunlight on the ground that had broken through the glowing keyholes of the blowing tree a few yards away and was lost in the weird feeling that happened when I’d wiggle my hand around in my armpit. The crazy hadn’t really hit me all the way yet, but the fun fever was certainly starting to envelop my bones.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> I was startled by the sound of the phone clanking down hard onto the hook and the Samoan orangutan behind me booming out, “BOOYAH!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “We good?” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Oh yeah, we’re fuckin good, buddy!” He slammed his giant paws down on my shoulders and gave me a shake, “We’re meetin’ him at the Carl’s Jr. down the block from the museum in a couple hours. EIGHTBALL, BITCH! Let’s go catch this bus before they ditch us.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Alright, fun buns! Let’s blow this donkey!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> My skin started popping and spiking like an EKG hooked to an epileptic. This excited me to no end as we jogged back to the group piled up at the bus loading zone. Other classes had merged with ours so the group was even larger now, making it easier for us to blend into the rear.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Where’d y’all git lost at?” The funny haircut havin’ hick blurted out.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Shut the fuck up, hill-billy!” I hissed through clenched teeth.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Yes, Smith. Do I need to put a leash on you two?” Vance was on to us.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> Cannon interjected, “I had to go to the bathroom!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “And what about you, Smith? Eh?” Old bastard!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Yeah, <i>Smith</i>!” Fuckin’ redneck!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “I was…umm…protecting him from gang members, sir. Ya’know…buddy system.” I’m so lame.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Well, let’s make sure you stay buddies with the class while we’re around the trains, huh, gentlemen? I’m not wasting any time looking for you if you stray off. You hear me?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Won’t be an issue, sir!” I had a hard time keeping eye contact with the man. Too many wrinkles on his face drizzling down around his features like pasty liver-spotted molasses. Wait…what? What time was it? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> About an hour in! Mission control…we have lift-off.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> As the vibrations started settling their way into my vision, we shouldered our way through the masses of different shaped faces to the one of the three buses that had the least amount of dipshits in front of it. We had to get a seat in the back. No two ways about it. There was no way in hell I was going to be surrounded by these obnoxious scoundrels! <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> My super-sized companion shoved the funny faced midgets out of our way and we boarded the capsule. SUCCESS! The rear bench was vacant and it was ours. We shimmied our way to the ass of the mighty yellow beast and plopped down with victory dripping from our faces.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> <a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=3102216433738260834&postID=8232680560884148728" name="OLE_LINK10"></a>“Damn,” Jared, the hick, followed shortly behind us as he took the seat ahead of us and parked his wheeled carry-on luggage he used for a backpack next to him in the aisle, “Y’all just went straight to the VIP, huh?” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Shut the…” I stopped myself from the outburst as I sighed through a tight mouth and aimed my attention at the rippling lake of multicultural features waiting to board outside Cannon’s window. The feeling inside my chest was indescribably hollow as it began to flutter out of control. It wouldn’t be long now before the insanity found its way to me. I wasn’t going to let the nuisance of some inbred soil my transformation.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Who’s talkin’ to you, Buffalo Bill? HUH?” Cannon extended a giant arm and shoved Jared deeper into his selected slot, “Nobody! That’s who, faggot!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “What’s goin’ on, fellas?” Our new drug-buddy, Chris, said with a shake of the hand and a dap of the fist as he sidled his way into the open spot on the opposite side of the gigantor next to me. I didn’t know Chris too well before our summer classes because he normally attended our school’s rival, Highlands High, where he played football, but Cannon did because they both worked at the Century Cinedome Theatres together. Chris was no stranger to the potions that frequented our minds.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “What’s up, son?!” Cannon raised an excited tone. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Shit, man, I can’t call it. I know I ain’t goin’ to no museum though. I’m finna dip out & hit the mall when we get there.” He seemed to lose his train of thought as a frown fell over him, “What the fuck? What’s on your fuckin’ dome, kid?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Nothin’, goddamn it. It’s nothin’.” I pulled on the edge of my windbreaker hood and changed the subject, “Fuck a mall, man! You should pitch on some meth with us fool!!” I said much more loudly than I should have before noticing more than a few faces turning their gaze toward me from the endless hall of seats ahead of me. “I’m just playin’! Ha! That shit’s hella bad! Bad news that meth is! Not even once, kids. Don’t do it.” The faces faded one by one as did their interest in the spotted junkie buffoon at the back of the bus.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “You tryin’ to get us hemmed up, fool?” Cannon backhanded me in the chest as he turned to Chris and handed him the vial from his pocket. “So, yeah…As my associate was saying, you wanna get crazy, fool?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Hell yeah! What ch’yall bout to get into?” He answered while unscrewing the cap to the bottle of magic.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> My colossal compadre laid out the agenda for him in a secretive whisper as Chris squirt a couple hits under his tongue and handed it back, never breaking eye-contact. Cannon passed it to me without looking so I squirt another one in my mouth and wrapped it up in the extra sock I kept folded up under the tongue of my shoe as many kids my age did during that time. I can hear you judging me again, you know. A lot of kids did it, okay? It was a good place to stash stuff. I used to keep rubber bands around the ankle of my pants in order to hold them up and show off my kicks too! And yeah…they <i>were</i> Lugz! Whatever. I don’t have to explain myself to you. I was cool, goddamn it!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> Anyway, as I stuffed it back into my shoe, my visions were starting to creep in when I noticed that the black-ribbed stripe leading from below my feet to the front of the bus was at least a couple miles long before it shrank to a few inches and back again. Whelp, not gonna look straight ahead anymore. It came to mind that a packed school bus full of students and faculty would be a pretty awful place to have a meltdown if my vibrations took full control. I quickly shot my eyes straight down in front of me as I continued stuffing my shoe. The extra sock was in its normal position already, but I was lost in the enjoyment of feeling my fingers sliding back and forth in the humid crevasse between the extra sock and the one around my foot. It was wet and dry and hot and moist all at once. The bus began to move as I raised my hands to smell the musty fingers I had been torturing in the abyss of foul bacterial foot fungus and, still hunched over like I was preparing for a plane crash, I noticed the redneck’s suitcase wobbling back and forth as it stood before my feet. I glanced up at the hill-billy and only saw the back of his head. He was busy staring outside, probably enjoying his first ride in one of these horseless carriages. My eyes bounced back down to the suitcase and I watched as my hand slowly started reaching for the zipper of the front pocket without my having any knowledge of how it was doing so without any known consent from my brain. No sense in dwelling on that, I figured. We’ll just see what happens. My independent appendage got the zipper half-way open when it must have noticed Mr. Vance turning in his seat to take stock of everyone’s behavior at the same time that I did. The hand darted back into my shoe and put on a show as it pretended to stuff the sock back in again. As soon as the old man revealed the back of his head to us again, that rebellious hand of mine continued its mission. Once, opened, my fingers stretched out the opening of the pocket to show me the treasures within. I gave a no-look slap to Cannon’s shin with the hand I still had control over as the rogue one pulled out a fold of one dollar bills pressed against a Sony Discman, “Look, fool!” I hissed.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Ugh! You grimy, nigga!” He quietly giggled.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Take that shit!” Chris whispered with a fist over his mouth. “Matter of fact, give that shit to me!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> I pretended to ignore his request as I regained control of the disobedient hand and I quickly leaned back into my seat, shoving the loot into the front pocket of my windbreaker. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Don’t you have like 72 of those things or somethin’?” Cannon still kept a low tone.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Not on me! Besides, what if we wanna smoke that shit instead of snootin’ it down there? I don’t got my pipe. I figure we can use this shit as street currency to get another one.” My logic was solid as it was answered with impressed nods of approval. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> The excitement of the theft set my body into full fluctuation. The windows were an ever-blurry mess of retina-searing color as the monstrosity that carried us roared on. The tide of vibrations and vision trails steadied their rise. The peak would be here in no time and downtown couldn’t show up soon enough.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"><br />
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</div><div class="Standard"> “I need everyone’s attention,” Mr. Vance gathered us as the fleet of blond-colored dragons evacuated themselves around us like a cocoon of claustrophobic nerves. He went on to explain that we need to stay in our groups and that all the groups would meet up at McDonald’s for lunch after the museum tour. He then continued with the “surprise” that if we didn’t give any problems that we could go on to spending the rest of the day at the Downtown Plaza K Street Mall as a reward. The predictable robots of our cocoon cheered in delight at the potential of such a wonderful reward. Big fuckin’ whoop. My two companions and I jittered with impatience, waiting for our opening to disappear like farts in a back-alley gust. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> As the old man assigned each person to their designated group, my trio was split up among the masses like a family of Jews in the Holocaust. I don’t recall who those fuckers got sent to, but I was stuck with some hippy-dippy dipshit lady who was normally an art instructor or something, but was posing as a history teacher for the summer months. She gathered me and the other five in my group together and made sure she had all of us accounted for. I got bundled together with two kids, Greg & Casey, that I considered associates considering all the business we’d done in school together, some dweebo I didn’t know who must have been an alum of another school, and wrappin’ up the bunch were Cow Dick & Tranny.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “Hey, Mr. Vance!” I called out, “How come <i>these</i> lesbians get to stay together, but I can’t expand my railroad knowledge with <i>my</i> lovers?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> “You know why. Now pipe down before you ruin this for everybody, Spot!” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard"> Uproarious cackles from the peanut gallery of covered mouths and turning grins.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">My spine lost its lineage. “Fucker,” I muttered under my breath.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">I turned to my new friends and whispered more dramatically than a sane person would have, “Hey, you fuckers wanna bail on this fag-fest & get twisted?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">Casey was a year ahead of us, but making up sophomore classes. He stood about 6’4” and almost had a full beard. Greg was about my height, bald, and never raised his voice over just above a whisper. Neither one could ever be found without their skateboards in hand.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“What’s on your forehead, man?” Greg ignored my offer.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Shut up, bitch. Answer me.” I had no time for story-telling.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">A 20-foot tall Casey seemed interested, “Why? What are you gettin’ into?” he inquired from the sky.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Adventure, son…Adventure. We’re gonna ditch this shit & do our own thing. We got treats comin’ too, son! You down?” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">They looked at each other and agreed in unison.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">For real though, dude,” Casey started, “What <i>is</i> that?” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“It’s a fuckin’ bruise, alright? Long story. You’re freakin’ me out. Don’t fuckin’ worry about it!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">The groups began merging like cows to the slaughter as we all made our way to the front doors of the massive structure. I quickly shot my gaze around the brush of nameless masks to find the other two thirds of myself. I found Cannon with no trouble as he towered over the army of imps. Seconds later, Chris found his way onto my radar. His eyes drenched in an empty wonder. He had discovered greatness. They nonchalantly made their way over to me and my two new additions. The herd came to a pause as the first of them started into the giant double doors. I squatted down under the canopy of heads and hastily unraveled the diabolic vial of witchcraft from my sock. I calmly slid the tiny container into my pants pocket, all the while, humming Kenny Loggins’ “Danger Zone” from Top Gun to myself to meet the level of exciting espionage-like thrills I was conjuring in my chemically fogged head. When about half of the herd had disappeared into the darkness ahead, most of the chaperones had too, so we looked at each other for approval before making a clean break for it. As we fled for freedom, I felt as though there were more footsteps clamoring around me than the four pairs in my inner inventory. This scared the shit out of me and with a quick boost of adrenaline, I shot out ahead of the pack. Were we being followed? Were they onto us? I had no time to answer such things and I sure as hell wasn’t looking back. Drowning in terror, I found myself almost yelling the lyrics to my inner soundtrack in a frantic tone as I slid around the corner of the building and slammed my back against the wall like I had reached “base” in a schoolyard game of tag.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=3102216433738260834&postID=8232680560884148728" name="OLE_LINK12"></a>“Aww, man!” I was disappointed to find what had followed us. “What the fuck d’you bring this pygmy pole-smoker for?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">Allen fucking Whitney. The straight-edge, drug-free smallest wrestler on our school’s team. Dude always acted like he had roid-rage and walked around with his arms out like a body-builder despite the fact that he was roughly 86 pounds. Major Chihuahua syndrome.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“What’d you say about Allen Whitney?” He said in the third through a snarled lip as he jerked toward my face, “Huh, monkey? HUH? What’s that on your face, huh?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Calm down, Keebler,” I sighed as I dipped my shoulder down to push him aside like an annoyed parent ever-jaded by their rambunctious child’s chronic fits of ADHD.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“He heard me talkin’ to this nigga & wanted to tag along,” Cannon pointed to my buddy Spig who was standing next to him, hands in pockets. “I figured he’d be funny to look at once we got goin.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">Spig was our black-Mexican compadre that occasionally took part in our drug addled misadventures (Black + Mexican = Spig. Do the math. It’s a compound word.). <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Fuck you, fat ass!” the miniature poodle retorted, “You’re funny to look at! You wanna get fucked up?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“See? Just look at him!” Cannon giggled as he bounced the midget off the wall in three rapid successions, “He’s just so adorable!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Whatever. Let’s just do this. Our group’s hella big now, man. Is everybody inside yet?” My frustration with the extra load was no match for my jittering hunger of things to come as I impatiently wiped the hollow tingling from my face with a clammy palm.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">Spig peeked around the corner, “Yup. Looks like it. So, what we about to do?” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Just what I told you, you dumb half-coon fuck!” Cannon blurted in excitement, “Trippy spun fun, son! Let’s blow this fuckin’ donkey, faggots!”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=3102216433738260834&postID=8232680560884148728" name="OLE_LINK14"></a>We began our trek to freedom through our own underground railroad of rapid activity and bricked superstructures as we muddled along in a haze of paranoia down the never ending concrete conveyor of brightly lit sidewalk. Our wide-eyed herd looking like a silent cuckoo bell choir of spinning heads ever-looking over shoulders to ensure our escape would be a successful one. As we passed under the judging, shady glare of overlooking skyscrapers, we all seemed to be in an unspoken agreement that the square, black portal that had swallowed our robotic peers into the giant den of unbearable boredom just minutes before would no longer display the sight of interested bodies or curious peeking heads disappearing into its dark abyss. Although the day had started hours beforehand on a note sourer than I’d like to revisit, it was finally time for it to actually begin. The world was now our bitch and we would treat her as such.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">By this time, we all had tongues marinating in the nectar of gods unknown to mainstream religion with the exception of our pint-sized pest as he seemed desperate to fit into the middle of our fantastical flock, following along in swift movements with elbows held out for no reason.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Feel like sittin’. Can’t have that. Gimme a Rhino ETA.” My legs grew weary with noisy vibrations running through them. I was ready to fuel up if we were to continue this wandering venture.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“You talkin’ to me,” Cannon turned to me with a look of psychotic wonder.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“No, dipshit. I’m talking to the army you brought that has no idea what I’m talking about.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Oh. I have no idea, fool. See this thing on my wrist? It makes no sense to me. He’s got your beeper number though, faggot.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Let’s just go chill in there until your dude shows,” Chris pointed to the empty looking parking garage across the street, “This sun’s fuckin’ killin’ me anyway.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;">“Yeah, I got some tree if you wanna blow some,” Casey mumbled down from his distractions in the clouds, “I mean, it won’t push us to run around, but it’ll enhance the trip while we wait at least.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="Standard" style="text-indent: 35.45pt;"><br />
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</div>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-82274771396867724772012-04-27T13:04:00.006-07:002012-11-09T15:32:54.096-08:00THE ADAM "YEEAHHBUDDIE" SMITH DOUCHEBAG STRATEGY GUIDE TO DATING GREATNESS!<div><u><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">With me retiring my jersey from the game for the long haul,</span></b></u> I've decided to pass on my invaluable knowledge to those that can still put it to some use. I'm tired of surfin through my Facebook feed and reading status after sappy fuckin status of grown ass men boo-hooing over some bitch breaking their heart. So, I decided to help these poor, naive bastards flip the tables on these sluts with a few helpful tips from your Ol' Uncle Adam. I present to you....<b>THE ADAM SMITH DOUCHEBAG STRATEGY GUIDE TO DATING GREATNESS!</b> (please use wisely)<br />
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You'll have to first excuse the potentially messy layout of the following plan as I have been off your market for a couple years now so these methods have just been marinating on top of each other in the same bottle for a while and I'm just gonna pour it all out into one big sloppy glass for you to sort the flavors out on your own.<br />
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I wanna kick this shit off by pointing out you spineless little hopeless romantics who hand their giant beating heart off to any random bitch that's willing to hold a conversation with you. You're setting yourself up for failure, man. You walk around with your feelings held out in front of you all the time and you're risking all kinds of bad shit happening to them. Think of your heart as your social security number. You don't wanna give that shit to anybody unless it's absolutely necessary and you certainly don't want the shit advertised on your silly-ass eager face in the hopes that someone special will just come up & give you a home loan. Why not? BECAUSE BAD THINGS WILL HAPPEN TO YOU, YOU DUMBFUCK! Everybody gets their heart broken at some point and I'd be lying if I said it never happened to me. I learn from experience. What doesn't kill you, bitch. Do the same. Toughen up that skin, boy-o. I hate hearin about you soggy sad sap motherfuckers that get fresh out of a relationship & run straight out there tryin to hunt down THE ONE again. STOP THAT SHIT!! If you keep hunting hard for a diamond in a shit storm long enough, you'll start flippin out for anything shiny & it's just a matter of time before you start polishing a used condom wrapper. You keep tryin to hunt down that wife & you're gonna find yourself tryin to make something out of the first pretty bitch that agrees to a second outing with your soggy droolin ass. I say again...STOP THAT SHIT!! It sounds like some cheesy fuckin chick-flick line, but the best ones come along when you're not even trying. It sounds cliché, but I promise it's true, unless you're willing to change to the point of becoming someone else so that your square ass can fit in with that bitch's round slots. The right one is probably out there...blah blah blah...but I want you to take my hand and follow me along on the road to that queen...and there's gonna be a whole lot of sluts along the way, so tread carefully with your eyes open, baby boy, and most importantly, have fun with these skanks, goddammit. Your life is not Dawson's Creek so stop turning your boring life into an overly dramatic fagfest. Ok.Ready? Here we go, my son...<br />
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First, I need you to think of a blanket on a warm night. You don't want to sleep without the blanket & it's too damn hot to get all hunkered down in it, but just a little corner won't be enough. You need a happy medium, right? YOU'RE THAT BLANKET. I'll elaborate on this more in a little bit, but stay with me here for a second. Think of that target bitch (from here on out, target bitches will be referred to as "marks") goin to bed on a warm night. Don't just wrap your dumb ass around her right away! You're gonna smother that Mark, and then what's she gonna do? She's gonna kick your ass off! That's right. You fucked up. She's frustrated. You're out. But if you give her a little less than that, she's gonna get all nice and comfy with you & then she's gonna do whatever the fuck she wants. You just became a door mat. Have fun getting walked on until it's time to replace you. So what do you do then? You imagine laying in bed with someone who is a complete blanket hog & only allows you to get a little corner. What do you do all night long? You struggle to get more of that blanket til morning. You even tug on it in your sleep without knowing it. You subconsciously NEED more of that blanket. Despite the fact that you KNOW you won't get more, you still try. BE THAT BLANKET! Just give that Mark a taste of what's there & always leave that bitch needing more whether she knows it or not. Let me explain.<br />
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Nice guys finish last. "But, Ol' Uncle Adam, we've heard that before." NO SHIT, YOU HAVE! Cuz I'm not the first motherfucker to realize it! You ever hear the expression <i>"A rolling stone gathers a shit ton of moss?"</i> Fuck no, you haven't cuz the shit ain't fuckin true, goddammit. Now shut the fuck up and pay attention. Sure, the nice guy gets is dream girl some of the time, but we're not fishin for bitches at a church social here. We're playin a grown-folk's game. You need to take that heart of yours and bury it deep down somewhere safe where nobody can find it. You're a smooth motherfucker without a care in the world, baby. If you're fresh out of a relationship, you need to hit the bar. That's where you're gonna find an easy slab of sweet rebound poon and I'm gonna tell you how I was able to trick some of em into bein repeats on command. And while we're on the subject of bars, DO NOT LET YOUR GUARD DOWN & START PLAYING HOUSE WITH THESE BAR BITCHES!!! NO!!! Bitches that you bed from the bar are not wifey bound. You fucked her after meeting her at a bar. She is a whore and don't you forget it! Anyway... You turn that radar on and find your mark. Have money? Ok. Buying her a drink is a good ice breaker. Not a lot of money? Buy a pitcher and make a funny comment to her making fun of somebody else in the bar. If she laughs, offer to share your pitcher & ask for another glass. You're in. Don't be shy. If you are shy, take a shot or two before the drink buying. Loosen up. After you and this dumb bitch share a giggle, that should get the conversation ball rolling. What should you talk about? LIES. LIE. LIE. LIE!!! Lie about yourself. Nothing too extravagant. Make it believable. Know your lie front and back. Be a logger. Be a firefighter. Be anything manly. Be anything that makes money. Just do your homework in case any questions are asked or make it overly complicated so no questions are asked. Google is your friend! For instance, when I was unemployed in Sacramento, my lie was that I was possibly facing lay-off and expecting a decent payout from a class-action lawsuit while working at a company in Lincoln, CA called American Poly-Therm. Oh, wow. What's that place? <i>"Well, we're a manufacturer of composite parts for aerospace and defense as well as sporting goods, medical, electronic, light and heavy rail, and safety industries. We utilize compression molding, transfer molding, hand lay-up, tape wrapping, roll wrapping, pressure forming processes and all kinds of stuff. I don't do anything special though. I work for a department subcontracted by the government to build seating brackets for basically every aircraft in the Western United States."</i> Pretty good, right? FUCK YEAH, IT'S GOOD! Who would make something like that up? Me, and they ate that shit up every fucking time! Swear to god. And I threw in the "possible lay-off" just in case she becomes a rerun so that me never being at work doesn't become an issue and then unemployment can come into play later on to smooth the lie out. Also, if you don't like her and she becomes a barnacle, you still have a demanding job to use as a blow-off excuse. You're not worried about being unemployed for now anyway thanks to the lawsuit. Boom. After that, the night will unfold itself. If that bitch doesn't fuck you that night, forget her. She's not worth it. Find a new mark tomorrow. Tomorrow's a new day and so is the next, and that still holds true even if she does. Rack em up. Also, if she turns you down for a hump sesh, that's where the lying actually helps protect you. Rejection doesn't hurt as bad when the mark is rejecting a fake person. The shit doesn't hurt because it really has nothing to do with you since she actually has no idea who you really are. See? Heart protected in that hole you dug before you left and we're still rollin. Wait for that bitch to leave and make fun of all her flaws to your friends. You're better than that bitch anyway. Hell, you work at American Poly-Therm!<br />
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Now, if you do get this cat in the bag, you're gonna have to leave at some point. Your place? Hers? Hers preferably to find out more about this chick and if you go to your place, you run the risk of having a possible psycho knowing where you live, but it doesn't really matter. But you're a responsible guy. You've been drinking. You can't drive. This leaves you with two options: Her car, or a cab. If she wants to drive, cool. Let her catch a DUI. You don't know this slut. Walk out to her car. Is it nice? Bonus! Is it not so nice? That's okay too. But what if she opts for the cab? Walk out there. Ask if she drove. She'll either say she doesn't have a car or she'll instinctively say something about her car and point to it. Is it nice? Bonus! Then comes the sex. Yeah! Remember that this bitch is hotter than that cunt that left you! Reclaim revenge points on behalf of men everywhere. You're awesome. I won't go into style or form. Everybody's got there own thing. If you wanna get weird though, get weird, just don't do it expecting her to repeat. If you wanna enlist her in your building harem of hoes, don't be selfish. Make the first one with her be about her. That move will help you in the long run for repeats if you want it. You only have to be the generous lover this time though. I'll explain why in a little bit. Anyway, be generous &, more often than not, you'll sleep there. Wake up the next morning. Be distant. You don't normally do this. Be cool though. Collected. You want another go? Get her number (if you don't already have it) & suggest that you guys should "hang-out" [whenever. your call]. Kiss. Leave.<i> "HANG-OUT?"</i> What's that? That's a blanket corner, bitch. The term "hang-out" or "kick-it" is so vague that curiosity to its meaning will make her need to pull on that blanket corner to find out if the rest is warm or not. What kind of blanket are you? She doesn't know, but she needs to find out! That fishy's on the hook, son. You just copped an almost sure-fire rerun. You were such a generous lover last night, but now you're so distant. Did she do something? Is it because you don't normally do stuff like this? She'll need to let you know she's not a slut. She'll prove it to you by seeing you again. If you don't get a text within 24 hours of leaving, she's nasty. She does this all the time. Get a blood & urine test stat.<br />
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Did we make it to round two? Awesome, son. You're doing great! Wait, you're not falling for this slut, are you? <b>YOU FUCKIN BETTER NOT BE!</b> Remember, not only did you find this mark at a bar, but you fucked her on the first night you met her. This woman is a whore and don't you forget it! Keep that heart hidden, grasshopper. Besides, even if you are gettin feelings, you lied all about yourself. What are you gonna do now? Nothin. That lie was a preventative measure to protect that heart we buried earlier. So keep your fuckin head in the game, pussy! So, alright. Round Two! You're the man. Meet her at a bar again. Drinking makes everything fun, but most people have deeper issues they're trying to drown. No? Don't believe me? You just got out of a relationship, you're heartbroken, and now your taking out the frustration by emotionally victimizing a stranger. See? Told you. That's ok though. Leave that baggage with your heart. This bitch has her own and second date drunk conversations will probably open that up soon. You were so generous and sensual last night. In her dumb bitch head, that means she can trust you now to a certain extent for some fuckin reason. Right on. You don't have to be Mr. Sensitive, but probe her with questions about her. Bitches love talking about themselves. You don't even need to pay attention. Just listen for names and bulletpoints to bring up later and show that you listen. She shoots some back at you? Make shit up. Just remember your lies for now. They may come back up later. After a while, she'll open up & reveal some of her insecurities. Every bitch has em. Remember what a funny guy you were last night making fun of that dude? So does she. Make some subtle jabs at her weknesses. Nothing too offensive. She knows you're a funny guy and she'll laugh, maybe jokingly say "ugh! OMG! You're so meeeean!" and push on your shoulder or some dumb cutesy bullshit. Deep down though, that shit kinda hurt. She may not even realize it, but that jab just took a little bite out of her subconsciously. Tease her about something she's wearing. Boom. That's the old one-two. Now, the curveball. Rub her thigh & say something nice about her. Nothing too romantic. Compliment her makeup or hair or something superficial, but sound sincere. Have a serious face now. Bitches love that shit & since she's a whore that fucked you on the first night, she's probably really shallow & superficial & compliments like that will boost her. She has no idea what to think now, but you know that you just emotionally beat her down into a soft malleable putty & then easily molded her to your liking. Pretend to go in for a kiss and when she starts to oblige, fake-out & look away. Laugh about it in a mockingly condescending way. What's going on? She has no idea, but you're in total control. You may come across a few bitches that won't put up with those games regardless of how you fuck, but bitches with self-respect have no place in the process of you regaining your manhood. Forget them. Moving on. Now, take this retard away from here & take her back to pound town, but this time, you're free to do whatever you want. She knows your potential. If you just go to get yours this time, that's fine. For one, she'll think you have variety and that's exciting. How else does he do it? She'll have to find out. Secondly, if the way you treated her tonight still kept her around, she's a self-loathing wreck & that first generous encounter will be like her first hit of heroin & no matter how you perform from now on, she'll keep coming back, at least for a while, in hopes of getting the feeling of that first high again. Was your second night a success? You make me proud and it's pretty much safe to say that you now have this puppy on a leash. Now it's time to spread her out to less frequent encounters to make time for other puppies & extracurricular mark hunting/recruitment and then wash, rinse, repeat. Over time, make them even less and less frequent so that when you finally drop her, it won't be such a devastating blow. If they start expecting a break over time, you lower the risk of an uncomfortable public blowout or, in some cases, even stalking. Not to say that it won't happen! Chicks are crazy. There's no telling they'll do. In my experience, preparing them betters your odds though.<br />
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Congratulations, player! You're almost a pro in the game! Unfortunately, I haven't given you every detail to how I used to work it, but that's ok because you're not me. This is basically just the frame of a house I built over time. It's up to you to mold your own technique to match your personality & spackle in the gaps with your own style. I gave you the primary basics though and if you made it to the final steps successfully, you'll find that you've probably grown a little stronger emotionally. After a while, you won't have to lie so much because you'll be a little more emotionally prepared to protect yourself from attaching yourself to these bitches and getting your sad little soggy heart broken so easily. Once you feel that tougher skin grown in, you'll be ready to put yourself out there & find the real one by venturing your real self out there AWAY FROM THE BAR! Remember, just because you're stronger now, doesn't mean those bar bitches aren't still sluts. Don't stop leaving your heart at home until you know for a fact you're ready though. Don't fool yourself. It's still just as private as your social security number. Take it from me, I've been heartbroken more than a couple times, I developed this method with a very high success rate, got it all out of my system, and now I'm almost 2½ years deep with the love of my life. I can also say with confidence that if [god forbid] anything were to happen to the life we've built together, sure, it'll hurt like a motherfucker, it'll be devastating, but I'm now better prepared to manage the pain and stay focused if I need to.<br />
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I want to wrap this up by saying that I didn't choose to write this with the intention of disrespecting any women. I promise. I wrote this because I'm sick and tired of constantly reading on Facebook about another dude getting his sad little heart broken over some chick again and then reading on to watch the progression of their sappy fuckin depression evolving over the following weeks on a public forum for all the world to see. I wrote this with the hopes of helping these sniveling little wieners get a fucking grip & learn how to fucking deal with themselves. To learn how to man the fuck up & move forward. To not cry to the world, but to vent by way of a fun little social game. Ok, it may be at the expense of a few others, but I'm talking about barflies here. They'll get over it & if it's for the purpose of helping at least one young man find his balls, I'd say that sacrificing the "dignity" of a few sluts along the way is well worth it.</div>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-65916375722477354312011-08-30T14:09:00.000-07:002012-01-10T12:05:22.220-08:00Ol' Uncle Adam Goes To The Movies!: "Trust"<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Trust-Movie-Poster-11x17-Master/dp/B004RKNIDU?ie=UTF8&tag=thrararaofare-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Trust Mini Movie Poster #01 11x17 Master Print" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B004RKNIDU&tag=thrararaofare-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thrararaofare-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B004RKNIDU" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important;" width="1" /> Alright. I'm back. Sorry, for the delay. I keep getting sidetracked by epic side projects. I told myself I wasn't gonna sell out anymore with these reviews, but your Ol' Uncle Adam's gotta eat, so here's this new one. I was sick of turnin' my brain to old mayonnaise with these soft serve doodoo summer blockbusters, so I figured I'd see what's new & exciting on this indie scene. I checked out a few new hot ones, but I'm gonna tell you about this creepy sack of...ummm....fun(?) cuz it's the last one I just watched so it's still bakery-fresh in the old noodle.<br />
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OK. Anyway...So Annie is our "star" in this one. She's this little 14 year old annoying broad that meets 16 year old Charlie in a teen chat room. They chat all day, every day. They really start feeling each other. Young love and shit...Blah blah blah yadda yadda.... But wait! Charlie has a secret. He's not a high school junior at all. He's actually a 20 year old college sophomore. Annie forgives his dishonesty and completely overlooks the fact that this dude is obviously a sexually deprived loser. Whatever. Oh, wait...what? Charlie's got a new secret: He's actually a 25 year old grad student. He apologizes. Dumb bitch accepts. You get the point. One day, Annie's parents, Catherine Keener & Clive Owen, leave town. YAY! Now we can meet Charlie! She meets this motherfucker at the mall and dude looks like a malnourished Rowdy Rowdy Piper with AIDS. No joke. Dude's like 40 & hasn't shaved for a week. Does Annie care? She should, right? Well, that wouldn't make for much of a movie. No. This bitch cares about this minor detail for about 2.5 seconds before she runs off with this slimy fuck & shares some ice cream with his ass. Then dude buys her a bra & bones her at a Motel 6 at like 3:00 in the afternoon. Then in classic guy-fashion, Chuckie-boy stops answering the dumb broad's calls & emails. Whatever. You can guess how the rest of the tale goes. Mom & Dad find out. Dad's pissed. Mom's confused. FBI can't find shit. Annie wants to protect the love of her dumb life. Blah blah blah. Throughout this whole movie, you just wanna drop kick your TV into the ceiling fan in hopes that this little dumb whore can feel the shit slappin' across her dumb slut face while her parents walk around crying & not doin' shit for an hour. It's frustrating as fuck. No lie. The little bitch is fuckin' retarded as shit. You wanna shake her like a newborn step-kid that's not yours.<br />
Did I mention who directed this star-crossed romance? Yeah, this is David Schwimmer's first time rockin' the big head set in the black folding chair. Yup. The guy that had the outbreak monkey on Friends came out the directing gate with this one here. I'm not saying the movie's terrible. No. The directing style really isn't bad and the acting is pretty on point. Good performances do a little to help the same story that your uncle read to you a million times before when your parents were out of town. It's really like a Monday afternoon showing of a LifeTime Original with a few Oscar nominees thrown in the mix cuz I guess Victoria Principal & Muriel Hemingway needed a day off from being domestically abused by Patrick Duffy and date-raped by Anthony Michael Hall.<br />
Not the worst, but not that great either. I'll slap a 5/10 on this freshman attempt from Ross fuckin' Gellar.<br />
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004O8OLNQ&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B005EJN63A&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><br />
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004DWHPDG&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B005CN7S4Q&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B000H6SXMY&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-45497420753123906202011-08-17T13:08:00.001-07:002012-06-22T00:35:28.390-07:00"Viaja Bizarro" (a factual recollection of a non-portuguese true story as experienced by Adam A. Smith)<div><div><div><div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNC4p10ZGuN2UmiEV-8dUMhzxBD3m8NYZ0XXjSxCkBOJsEYn5Ft5mKuVtBrsDeC1lAHuFnTc-KgJeSU-LsWLQZvO3t_N1LH6odxdFRm7bwknGp8Pfl0hWi1DqbjePOi7kmCZTEdCVv-2o/s1600/Two-Faced+Adam.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" qaa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNC4p10ZGuN2UmiEV-8dUMhzxBD3m8NYZ0XXjSxCkBOJsEYn5Ft5mKuVtBrsDeC1lAHuFnTc-KgJeSU-LsWLQZvO3t_N1LH6odxdFRm7bwknGp8Pfl0hWi1DqbjePOi7kmCZTEdCVv-2o/s200/Two-Faced+Adam.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> 16 is a damn fine age to be an over-active junkie. The average teenager never has quite the same adventures as the teen let loose on the streets of an urban wonderland with a head full of hallucinogens and veins pumped to the gills with various narcotic cocktails. The recount laid out below is a prime example. I've been told countless times that this is a story that needs to be written, so here it is. Although our perceptions were severely altered at the time, this is by far one of the most memorable days of my teenage life. It probably isn't quite what really happened, but this is how it was remembered through our haze of color streaks and melting faces.</span></i><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 24pt;"> I'll reluctantly start this off with the cliché</span></u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> that this day took flight like any other for us. After another long 12-15 hour meth-binge induced night of dart matches, crosswords, PlayStation, and no blinking, the retina-searing sun was up once again. This was our bi-weekly special day though since my "business partner" and best friend (we'll call him <i>Cannon</i> for the sake of anonymity) and I both got paid from our shitty part-time jobs and our ritual on such an occasion was to pool our money together and buy as many drugs as we could find with the $500-$600 we'd have. Didn't matter what kind. This day's specials included, another 8-ball of the iciest of ice shards, two hits of double-stacked Ecstasy pills based with heroin, a quarter ounce of weed, a vial of liquid acid, and two 40-ounce bottles of the finest lager known to homeless men everywhere: 211 Steel Reserve. The only thing left was to figure out a mission. This was around the time that that uber-terrible Final Fantasy movie came out and, despite the fact that we both knew it looked awful, we figured that if we abused our brains enough with the smorgasbord of illicit chemicals in our pockets, it could at least be pretty to look at. The next part was to find out where it was playing. Was it at the Cinedome Theaters less than a mile away? Fuck no, it wasn't. It was playing at Sunrise Mall, which we later found out was between 7-8 miles away from our start-point. Fuck it. We had more than enough jet fuel to get us there on foot and since it was at a mall, we figured, why not drizzle half the acid on sticks of gum and sell it while we're there to get some of our money back? Brilliant. Mission accepted. With the juices in hand and an objective on the agenda, it was time to set our face-holes ablaze before beginning our strenuous trek.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><u><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"PREPARATIONS, PREPARATIONS, PREPARATIONS..."</span></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Just like Popeye is nothing without his spinach, there was no way we could start this grueling journey without an overdose of adrenaline and serotonin. Both our houses had parent infestations that morning, so, after dowsing a pack of Wrigley's in a half vial of acid, we had to find a new location to comfortably snort loudly with no interruptions, and what better place to set up a prep-station than the AC unit behind the church across the street from our high school? Perfect. For those that don't know, the come-down effect of a few days of sleepless meth binges is about the equivalent of being hit by a 16-ton Peterbilt of cranky sadness during a full-body ball-peen hammer massage, so we had to feed the demon again to ward off the evil. We crushed up a few more rails on the filthy rusted aluminum cube and got the sinus blizzards a'blowin. After the excruciating battery-acid fire fizzled down behind our eyeballs, we moved on to step 2. We each took an E pill, cut them into 2 pieces and smashed one half of each into more lines. (Again, for those unaware, if you pop ecstasy, you have to wait about 30 minutes to an hour before the effects even begin to hit you. If you snort it, then you're there in 2 minutes tops. SO, if you snort half and pop the rest, you get there with the quickness and still have even more to look forward to in the next hour.) We each bombarded the other halves of our noses with that gem and threw the other half of the cartoon-Christmas-tree-on-a-cupcake image down the ol' hatch. We then topped it off with 5 hits of acid each and then smoked a blunt of North Highland's finest to enhance the effects of all of the above. Oh, but wait, what's this? Wretched cottonmouth! Every stoner's arch nemesis! To alleviate such a vile affliction, we raced each other to the bottom of our 40-ouncers. I lost. Challenging a 300+lb Samoan to any kind of consumption race is always an automatic forfeit. No biggie. We smashed our bottles against the wall of the church and as the conversation started rambling into nonsensical nothingness and the vibrations started bouncing their way into our vision, we knew it was time to start the mission at hand.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><u><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"LET THE JOURNEY COMMENCE!"</span></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The time had come. We licked our fingers and smeared them across our prep station and sucked every grain of mind-altering, tongue-burning yumminess and dusty AC corrosion off of them, I linked arms with my quarter-ton gorilla, and merrily skipped across the street, giddy with anticipation to see what your world would become to us. As naive youths, instead of using the residential roads less travelled to attempt to hide our upcoming psychotic stupor, we decided that the straight shot would be the best bet so we headed toward Greenback (one of the busiest streets in the area) to get there without risk of confusion. Fear of confusion is what drove us, not the risk of literally thousands of possible cops, passersby, and witnessing eyes. Whatever. Fuck it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We passed the school with car after car speeding past us. No trails yet. That's ok. Be patient. I'm fuckin' spun out of my head. That's a good start. The visions will come soon enough. Another car. Damn, she was hot! Car behind that one? EVEN HOTTER! "Goddamn! You see her?" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon chimed in, "Fuck yeah, I saw her." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> And then car after car had a smokin' hot driver hotter than the last. Our jaws started getting the jitters as we batted horny comments back & forth, teeth tight & clenched in a serious focus as we power-walked up the block in the 113' weather.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What about that one?" I pointed out another.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I'd fuck the shit outta that one too."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah. I'd smash them guts."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Let's see this next one...Fuck, she's hot."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah. I'd smash if my dick could work right now."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah. Me too."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "There's no way this many hot chicks just drove past us."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck no." He was a man of many words.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Some of them were really probably guys, huh?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Damn. Fuck yeah. Probably."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "...or old people."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yup. Fuck yeah. I guess I'd fuck them too." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You feelin' it yet?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Sounds like it. Fuck yeah, I'm feelin' it."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I guess this is the one time wanting to fuck a guy is a good sign, huh?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah. I guess."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "...or old people?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah. I'll smash on an old bitch right now."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Good. No trails yet though."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck no. Me neither."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "That's gay."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah. Not seeing trails. <i>That's</i> what's really gay. Not thinking a guy is a hot chick and wanting to fuck him."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah. I don't wanna do this if we're not trippin'."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Just be patient, faggot. We're talking about fucking men. I think we're trippin' just fine."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh, yeah. Ok. Let's go."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> As we trekked on further, I was growing more & more impatient with the drugs. Why the fuck aren't I seeing anything yet except for a myriad of potentially homosexual mistakes? We reached the intersection of Garfield and Greenback. After we cross this street, our journey has officially begun and I wasn't going another step until something weird happened. The meth was definitely working fine though and I was spittin' out a thousand words a minute and flailin' my arms around like a furious fuhrer, complaining about my lack of trip. "I'M NOT GONNA FUCKING DO THIS IN THIS HOT ASS FUCKING WEATHER IF I'M NOT GONNA BE SEEING SHIT! I'M SWEATIN' MY FUCKIN' NUTSACK OFF OVER HERE! GODDAMMIT, MAN! THAT MOTHERFUCKER SOLD US SOME BUNK SHIT! HIS HOUSE! THAT'S WHERE WE SHOULD BE WALKING TO! FUCK THIS GAY ASS MOVIE & THIS WHOLE FAGGOT ASS SCENE, MAN!! I'M PISSED! ARE YOU PISSED?? I'M FUCKING PISSED! YOU SHOULD KICK HIS FUCKIN' ASS, MAN!! BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH...." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon hit me in the chest with his Geo Metro-sized fist, "Shut the fuck up, bitch. Just give it a little longer."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "FUCK THAT SHIT, MAN! THIS SHIT IS FUCKIN' BULLSHIT, MAN!! BLAHBLAHBLAHBLAH...."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> And then it happened. Again, if you don't know, trippy drugs like acid, shroom, mescaline, etc., and some X usually have the effect of having their hallucinations creep up on you slowly before reaching your peak. You feel it in your skin, muscles, and bones, then weird shit starts creeping its way into your vision, and then it all hits you full blast at once before slowly drifting away. It's usually a process that takes a couple hours, on average, to reach its full potential. This was <i>not</i> the fucking case this time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Our crosswalk finally beckoned us, and we started off across the 6 lanes packed with cars waiting to go and about halfway across, my incessant ramblings were finally put to an end by my head spontaneously cocking back with a violent spasm in my neck, a quick nano-second blackout, and a sound that I can only put into words as a soft but loud "<i>WHOMP</i>" in my ears...and there it was. No warning. No creep-up. Everything that I had put into my face-holes that morning had all hit me at once and they fucking hit hard!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I stopped dead in my tracks. For a few long seconds I had no clue where I was or what the fuck was going on. There I stood, in the middle of this busy intersection, just looking around at I don't know what. Normally, you'll see colorful streaks trailing behind moving objects, but not this time. Red car goes by...<i>ZOOM!</i> Solid red stripe. Never went away. Just stayed there long after the car had passed. Blue car. Blue stripe and so on. Like thick, shiny birthday ribbons wrapping the surrounding area. The people in their cars lined up at the crosswalk waiting for their green light looked like they were under a strobe. Although their heads were moving along with their speech, all I saw was a series of various freeze-framed faces on the same head. Face!...Face!...Face!...like they were going through some kind of horrifying B-movie metamorphosis.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon noticed that I wasn't at his side anymore and came back, "You good, man? What the fuck are you doin’'?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Holy sh-shit, man!! Oh, f-f-f-f-FUUUCK!!!" I clutched onto his big ass arm like a terrified Kim Bassinger in Batman.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hahahaha What the fuck, man? You cool?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "WHAT THE FUCK IS <i>COOL</i>????"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Quit bein' a faggot. C'mon."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I did as the behemoth said and followed him along down the shady sidewalk across the street from the East Lawn cemetery where the sea of spread out headstones and tiny bouquets of multi-colored mini-explosions of flowers freely floated about in my peripheral like an unorganized army of gravity-defying dominoes. The only time they'd stay still is if I were to look directly at them, but once I averted my vision just a little bit, those tricky fucks would get to dancin' around in the air again. Whatever. Gotta keep goin'. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Shortly thereafter, Cannon got smacked with the vision too. We would stop at every tree we saw, examining the bark flowing down the trunk like some kind of god's diarrhea.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I couldn't help but wonder, "How many ants do you think are on this tree, man?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I dunno....like....fuckin' numbers, dude."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;">"More than the leaves?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "That's how many people are on the planet."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, but what's a planet, man?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You feel me?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon looked up from the ant he was fingering. "Right now? Nuh-uhh. Should I? Are you sweaty?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah, man. I'm hella sweaty, but I meant, <i>you know what I mean</i>?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh yeah. It probably makes no sense, but I know exactly what you mean, man."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Unison: "Fag."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I felt overwhelmed with indescribable emotions. Words seriously have not been invented to describe these feelings that overcame me. Happiness ain't got shit on the jittery, giddy glee exploding inside me. I felt like nothing could hurt me. I could do no wrong. The world loved me. I loved the world, "Wow. We're like brothers or something. I don't have a brother, but I bet I love you like I would love a brother. I mean like a brother that's not a sister, not 'brother' like a black guy. I'd love my brother if he was a black guy though too....I mean, if I had a brother."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, I have brothers. I love you like them. We're in brother-love. I wouldn't fuck you though."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Aww, fuck no, man. That's gay. I don't want to have sex with you either. You're the only guy I've seen today that isn't a pretty lady."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, me too. I love you."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, I love you too.....Am I a pretty lady?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "No."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh. Oh, ok." I wasn't really sure how that made me feel. "Good! I'm thirsty!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "We should drink our sweat."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? No. Look! Taco Bell!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I like burritos."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yuck. I wanna vomit. Wait...do I feel like throwing up?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I dunno."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Me neither. I want Sprite. Mmmmm...Yeah, Sprite."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah. I like burritos too."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? Do I have to throw up? I don't want to cry."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, let's go to Taco Bell."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><u><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"I WOULD LIKE YOU TO ACCOMPANY ME...</span></b><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">TO TACO BELL</span></i></b><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"</span></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I feel I should preface this by explaining that I'm not sure what sparked my reaction to this particular place, but my only guess is that it was the mild shock my body went through from going from a 113' degree outdoor furnace into an air-conditioned building that was probably chilled to a low 70. Whatever it was, Taco Bell freaked me the motherfuck out!</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We tried counting our money before entering as to not draw suspicion to our inability to understand numbers. We tried, but it was just a bunch of papers with different designs in the corners. Big funny faces. Ugly fucking faces. Whatever. Like I said before, we put our money together and designated Cannon to be the one to hold it since he was able to compose himself under other-worldly conditions a whole lot better than I could. We didn't know the exact amount of funny paper we had, but we knew we had enough for what we wanted so we proceeded inside. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> As soon as we got inside, my body went into a full-tilt panic. I was terrified and had no idea why. The place was empty except for an obese couple sitting quietly at a table in the far corner. I knew it was the drugs causing my unnecessary fear. I knew it, but it didn't help. There was no leashing the sheer terror that fell over me upon entering that refried chamber of dreadful trepidation. I turned my back to the counter and leaned in close to my companion, "We gotta get the fuck out of here," I said in a tone that I thought was a whisper.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Calm down! What's your problem?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I don't fuckin' know, man, but we have to fucking leave like right fucking now!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Stop yelling, stupid! We're fine. Go sit down, shut the fuck up, & I'll try to order. Sprite? You want Sprite, right? You should eat. You wanna eat? I'm gonna get you something to eat."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck no, I don't wanna eat! I THINK I'M GONNA THROW UP AND I FEEL LIKE I'M GONNA CRY!! WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE, MAN!!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> His gigantic hand landed onto my tiny bone-framed shoulder, shoved me into a sticky seated booth, & he said in a low clenched-tooth fury, "Please stop. You're fuckin' freakin' me out. I'm gonna go order. I don't wanna hit you, man."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, ok. Sprite. I'll have Sprite. Get me a Sprite please." I said in a quiet panic as I stared at my finger bouncing up and down off the table a million times per second. I don't know how long it took. I never even glanced over at the counter. I was far too scared. I looked out the window maybe once, but that wasn't any less scary. The thing that kept re-attracting my attention was that fucking fat couple in the corner. Were those fat fuckers looking at me? I couldn't tell. My eyes were vibrating too hard to focus. Maybe they didn't look at me a single time while Cannon was ordering. I sure as shit was convinced that they were though.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Here, drink this. I got you some soft tacos too. That guy was talking funny. I think he was Chinese or insane or something. Fuckin crazy, man!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You're insane, dumbfuck. You ready to go? I wanna go. You wanna eat those on the way? I don't want mine. You want mine? You eating? You should take those with us. We gotta go. Fuck this fuckin' place, man. Get your shit. We're leaving."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> He looked up at me with I don't know how many burritos awkwardly stuffed in both arms, "Fuckin' calm down, dipshit. Chill. It's hot outside. Relax. Let me eat a few of these and then we'll go. Just relax, man."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "How the fuck can I relax? I can't relax!!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Why not? What happened?" he seemed empathetic to my angst.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I DON'T FUCKIN' KNOW, MAN!! WE JUST GOTTA FUCKIN' GO! THIS PLACE IS NOT GOOD! I DON'T LIKE THIS PLACE! I'M FUCKIN' FREAKIN' OUT," I jumped up out of my seat, pointed across the room, and continued shouting in horror, "AND I GOT THIS FAT FUCKING COUPLE OVER HERE THAT WON'T STOP FUCKING STARING AT ME AND I KNOW THEY FUCKIN' KNOW AND THEY DON'T KNOW THAT I FUCKIN' KNOW THAT THEY'VE BEEN FUCKING STARING AT ME THIS WHOLE FUCKING TIME! YEAH, YOU TWO! I FUCKIN' KNOW!" I looked over at the staff gathered behind the counter watching the psycho lose his shit. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE <i>YOU</i> LOOKING AT??? OH, FUCK! <i>THEY</i> KNOW NOW TOO, MAN!!!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon shoved the rest of the burrito he was devouring into his mouth and shoved all the other tortilla-wrapped goodies into his pockets, grabbed my Sprite, and guided me to the exit with a giant arm around my neck, apologizing for me to everyone in a really weird, shaky tone. As soon as we got back out to the awful, sweltering blaze of the sun, I let out the biggest sigh of relief I've ever let out. It felt like I was waking up from the worst nightmare you've ever had and realizing that it's all over now.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Aaaaaah! Oh, my fucking god, dude. Thank you <i>so</i> much!" Grateful hugs followed a quasi-homo shower of gratitude.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hahaha Fuck yeah, man. We're in brother-love. I couldn't let you be that way....Plus, I'm pretty sure the cops are coming."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Pheww! I fuckin' love you, man. Let's get the fuck out of here. Mmmm....Sprite."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><u><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"FUCKIN' ELEPHANT FARTS, MAN!"</span></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We staggered out across the parking lot in our psychotic bewilderment. My magical soda singing an icy sweet melody throughout my innards. My chest feeling like a hollowed out 20-inch sub-woofer packed with butterflies bangin' at full blast. Eyeballs shaking faster than that magic wand in the bottom your mom's sock drawer. Undeterred by the 6 or so remaining miles between us and our destination, I realized that we were on the wrong side of the street and would eventually need to cross to get to the mall. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "We gotta cross," I murmured in a serious, focused tone through locked teeth as I stepped off from the curb without a second thought.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "WHOA, DUMMY!" I heard before my armpits got a tight feeling and my feet mysteriously left the ground. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> ZOOOM!</span></i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> A Hummer-sized dark grey blur blocked out the sun, invaded my vision from all fronts, and blew the hottest, nastiest, heaviest gusts of oven-like air all around me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "<i>UGH!</i> Fuckin' elephant farts, man! What the <i>FUCK</i>?!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Luckily, I had my gorilla there to lift me to safety as I aimlessly walked out into traffic without hesitating.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You're a fuckin' idiot, fool! Get your dumbass back on the sidewalk. You're fuckin' freakin' me out."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We somehow managed to understand what the little white guy on the crosswalk meant and made our way across the suddenly still hustle of traffic and decided to sit for a while on the bus stop across the street from Hollywood Video to take in the sights. I vividly remember an old homeless black man creeping along the sidewalk on the opposite side by said video store in an excruciating hunched-over posture and, despite the fact that there was probably about 50 endless yards of ongoing streams of different colored birthday ribbons continuously wrapping themselves around the city leaving various rainbows of steaming elephant farts in their wake between us, I could practically taste the ash sprinkling off of him like Pigpen from Peanuts. As he inched along he seemed to give a big "Fuck you" to the laws of gravity, as he climbed up and down 5-foot high sets of invisible stairs, freely floating up and down above the sidewalk. My episode of enraptured captivation with the dusty dark pixie holding my attention was then suddenly interrupted by the biggest bus ever pulling up right in front of me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Mershy mush muhlicknick jang? ...BAH!" The driver called out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I turned to Cannon, "Do <i>YOU</i> know him?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> He yelled back to the driver, "We don't know what you're saying! Please leave! Umm...Yeah!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Then, out came this chick with coke-bottle glasses, fuckin' palsy or somethin', those weird arm-brace crutches extending her wrists to the ground, and if that wasn't enough to overload our impairments, to top it all off, she had a crazy scrunchie-wrapped Kelly Kapowski sideways ponytail. Craziest shit I've ever seen. Insensitive? Sure, but you really had to see this bitch through our goggles at the time to fully grasp it. Anyway, she comes struggling to get down the stairs of the bus and then comes stilting along past me like a daddy long-legs and takes a seat down on the other side of Cannon. From where I sat, the two of them seemed to be settled deeply in some enthralling banter like two scholars discussing philosophical opinions on topics way above anything that I was psychologically equipped for. Over the roar of the gift wrapping ribbons steadily blowing hot farts in my face, I couldn't hear a damn thing either one of them were saying, but goddammit, it looked fascinating...and that face! The way that woman's face twisted into different bizarre expressions when it wasn't melting off of her skull as she waited for her turn to speak again was beyond extraordinary. This back & forth between them went on for minutes exceeding my counting capabilities before she leaned over, groaned some indecipherable moaning at me, waved, and slowly clickety-clacked her way up the street.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Holy shit! What the fuck were you guys talking about? What was her story? Was she nice?" I had to know everything.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? She asked how our day was, I said it was fine, she asked how you were, and you just stared at her like a fuckin psycho until she finally left, fool."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh! So she's not our friend? Should I go say something to her?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? No, fool! You want her to call the cops too, idiot? You're fuckin' scary, Adam. Don't talk to anybody. She was fuckin' crazy lookin' though, huh?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah. Giant Runaway Spider-Bot. Weird. Wait...Weird....<i>weird?</i> Is that a word? <i>Weeee-errrrd</i>."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, it's a fuckin word, idiot. Spider-<i>what</i>? You're fuckin bananas. Hahaha <i>Bananas. </i>Buh-Nah-<i>Nuuuuhs</i> huhuhuhuh. Let's go see who else we can meet! I need some gum. I'm gonna have some a'this gum. Want some a'this gum?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"</span></i></b><u><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">FEED ME, SEYMOUR...</span></b><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">FEED ME!"</span></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> When you're wandering around with a head full of chemically induced psychotropic hallucinations, you'll find that, from time to time, you'll suddenly run into windows of perfectly clear sanity. Don't let these windows fool you. They will trick you into believing that your drugs have worn off. This is a lie. These windows only last for about 30 seconds to a minute, but that's more than enough time for you to fall for their clever ruse, reach into your pocket, and pump another dose of your selected poison back into your face. Shortly thereafter, you may find that this was a terrible mistake.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Ummmm....yeah. Gimme some a'that gum, man," I decided after taking inner inventory of my perceptions and understandings, "Actually, dude, come to think....I know that dude over there ain't really floatin', I know these pretty streaks are just my eyes adjusting to fast movin' things or somethin', and even though it feels like my head is somehow freely hovering above my shoulders without attachment, I <i>KNOW</i> my neck is really there, right?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You're fuckin trippin'. You don't need no gum, fool."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Nah, man...What I'm sayin' is that since I know all this shit isn't real, that must mean I got my wits about me, right? I'm sayin' gimme a few sticks of that shit, man. I think my trip's wearin' off."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Son, you look fuckin' bananas, fool.....huhuhuhuh <i>bananas</i>....and the shit you're sayin' sounds crazy as fuck. I'll give you one stick. We gotta make our money back and we're not even at the mall yet."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "FUCK THAT SHIT, MAN! I FUCKIN' PAID FOR THAT SHIT TOO! GIMME HALF THAT SHIT RIGHT NOW!!! TRY AND FUCK ME?!?! FUCK YOU, MAN!! GIMME MY GODDAMN SHIT RIGHT NOW!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Damn, psycho! Alright, here. Take 3 for now, fool. See how you feel again in an hour. Get loud like that with me again and I'm gonna fuck you up, nutcase."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Mmmm! Fuck yeah! Thanks, fool. I fuckin' love you, man."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Shut the fuck up, bitch....I love you too."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Unison: "Fuckin faggot."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We shoved the minty LSD-drenched sticks into our faces and continued down our noisy blistering path of fart blowing color streams. Shirts fucking drenched. Scrotums chafing our thighs to a raw level of nearly exposed muscle...well, at least mine was. That motherfucker was huge. I can only imagine his being in a worse condition than my petite little sucked-up junkie figure. It only took a few minutes of chewing that sticky mistake to realize that waiting would've been a better idea.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck, man," the inside of my head felt incredibly hollow, yet overflowing with activity, "I don't think I needed those last few gum hits, man. I feel fuckin <i>crazy</i>. I hope I don't, like, ya' know, die or something."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I fuckin' told you, fool, but you had to get into psycho-killer mode and shit!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Should I spit it out? I don't wanna die."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Sure, if you wanna waste your fuckin' money. You're chewin' on like $15 right there."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh yeah. Fuck that shit. I feel fuckin <i>CRAZY! </i>How you feelin', Cannon? Big Can-dawg....big Can-o-ram-o-dingdong. Huh? You trippin'?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah. I only took one extra though. You're probably gonna die, fool!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hahahaha....wait...really? Whatever. I don't even know what that means! <i>Dead?</i> What the fuck is that? I don't know. Is that bad? Dead....dead....dead. Died...wait...what? Is died a word? Died....died...<i>DIE</i>!!!" I threw my arms in the sky and screamed to the world, "I'M GONNA FUCKIN DIE!!! FUCKIN DEAD!!!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Shut up, fool!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hahahaha Is that the mall up there?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah, it is! You ready? Good movie. Make money. <i>Money. Movie. </i>Weird. Whatever. YOU READY, NIGGA?" he crashed his 5-ton meat puppet into my chest, spinning my frail frame around.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh, shit! Is that Mick back there?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Our buddy Mickey was what some would refer to as a "wigger." I know it's an awful term, but it got the image in your head, right? It had purpose. Sorry. Anyway, he was a skinnier pasty kid who always wore jerseys, baggy jeans, Jordans, and usually kept his hair buzzed to the skin. It was quite a distance, maybe a half a block or so, but I knew my peoples when I saw them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon cupped his hand over his mouth and tucked his face down into his shoulder. "Pshhh! That's a big 10-4. Affirmative ID on the Mickster. Over. Pshhh!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I joined in without hesitation and mimicked his actions, "Pshh. Over & out or something. Mickster's a bogey on our tail & shit. Definitely the Mickster. Definitely over. Psshhh. On my tail." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Pshhh! You sound like fuckin Rain Man, retard. Over. Psshh!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Pshhh! The Mickster's almost at our clock or something. I'm not retarded. Over. Pshhh! Don't make fun of me. Pshhh!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> This banter went on for a long time with us going back & forth through imaginary walkie-talkies in low serious tones without laughing or anything. The closer he got, the less we looked back. He finally approached and Cannon bumped into him, "Pshhh! What's up, faggot? Over. Psh....Oh. <i>What?"</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The jersey jockin' "wigger" I described above had somehow transformed into some dark skinned native or Mexican or something with waist-length black hair and a long-sleeved Marilyn Manson shirt.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Ummm...He's not Mickey anymore. Over. Pshhh..."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon got right back into character, "Pshhh! Fuck no. Fuckin shapeshiftin' bastard. Over. Pshhh!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Why do we keep talking like this?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Pshhh! I don't know. Over. Pshhh! ....Pshhh! Cuz I think it feels right. I like it. Can we keep talking like this for the rest of the day? It makes me feel good. Over. Pshhh!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "No, man. I don't really want to. It's freakin' me out. Look what we did to Mickey, man! We turned him into a goth fag cuz we wanted to talk funny or somethin'."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon put his hand down and gave me a serious stare of remorseful disdain. Without saying anything further about it, the walkie game had ended in memory of the Mickey we once knew.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><u><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"RITUAL SUICIDE? </span></b><b><i><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">No, you idiot, THE FUCKING MALL!!"</span></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We made it. We actually fucking made it! There it was...The fucking mall!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What time does the movie start again?" I had no clue how these sounds were leaving my face, but they sure looked funny.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I don't fuckin' know, fool! What the fuck is time? Ask the sun! It's not night yet. Must be day."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "<i>Time? </i>What the fuck is <i>time</i> anyway? What <i>time</i> is it? Am I saying that right? What <i>tiiiime</i> is it?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I dunno. I think you're dumb. No, you're not dumb. I love you, fool. You're kinda dumb. I dunno, fool. We should eat more gum!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I'm still chewing the last pieces you gave me. Should I swallow them? What takes seven years? Wait...Don't swallow gum because seven years of bad luck makes mirrors break. Is that it? I don't want broken mirrors! What should I do? What if I didn't get all the acid out? Yeah, we should eat more to make this make sense." I knew something about this was supposed to scare me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, fuckin swallow it, fool. I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Fucking psycho, man. Here, eat this one and let's go. I'll do the talking. You scare people."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah. What about selling?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "After the movie."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> By this time, my quarter-ton gorilla had developed a walk like a baby just learning to stand on two feet. His arms swung madly about with a look on his face scribbled with awe and curiosity. I had no idea how I looked. Pretty crazy from what I hear, but I was purposely avoiding reflections to keep myself out of their grasp. Mirrors had a way of kidnapping my attention for hours on end in states like this. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We didn't even let the noisy colors or brightly lit sounds of each passing store distract us from our path. We bee-lined straight to the theater and my bumbling mammoth barreled up to the ticket booth as I kept my distance as not to frighten any of the locals with my unbalanced disposition. Throwing every ounce of my being into an awful attempt to look nonchalant, I stood there, frantically chewing my gum, that had now become a mushy glob of disintegrating paper mache clinging to my cheeks and teeth, and desperately avoiding eye-contact with the endless sea of different faces surrounding my every thought and move. Black faces with giant features and loud, scary voices. Brown faces with hairy lips and sounds that made no sense. White, pink-speckled awkward faces with shiny metal squares on their over-biting teeth. Miniature people in wheeled mangers making high-pitched squeals that made my senses hurt and my chest float. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I got 'em, fool!" Cannon's excited outburst butt into my terrifying study of the creatures around us. "Which one do you want? You ready to trip out on this fucking movie, man?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck. I don't know which one I want? Is one of them better? Just give them both to that guy," I raised my eyes and a pointing finger to the man at the podium who I suddenly noticed had a fixed gaze set on me that was either scribbled with intensely curious confusion or utter disgust. Maybe a little of both. The realization startled me. I jumped back and shoved my ticket back into Cannon's plump beef paw. "Oh, my god! You give it to him," I lowered my tone to a loud whisper, "I think that guy hates me!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Be quiet, fool. I'll handle this!" He trotted up to the vested hate-monger with a sloppy Baby Huey-like bounce, "HERE YOU GO, MY GOOD MAN! CAN YOU PLEASE DIRECT ME & MY FRIEND TO OUR FINAL FANTASY PLEASE? THANK YOU!" He screamed. I was frozen in fear. What the fuck was happening? I had no idea. Why was he yelling? Were we in a danger that I was unaware of? The man mumbled a stuttered remark back at Cannon and I followed the lumbering beast through the glass doors to the snack bar.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What should we get, fool?!?" the monster turned and asked me. "We have <i>this</i> number of money," he extended a clenched fist with sweaty green paper shooting out of every slit between his fingers, "We should share a giant soda and popcorn!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> It wasn't until then that I realized that my Sprite was gone, "Wait! What happened to my refreshing beverage?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? Your Sprite? It's gone, dummy! You drank the last drop and threw it at a house, fool!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? When did that happen? I don't remember that!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Three weeks ago or something. I dunno...last year. How the fuck should I know? What drink should I get?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I wish I still had mine. That was a good one. I dunno, man. Surprise me. Do brothers surprise each other? I don't have a real brother, remember? I don't know." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah! Brothers surprise each other all the time! Paul made me bacon once. I loved it!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Mmmm...Bacon. Surprise me then. Surprise me with a Sprite!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> This seemed like a good choice to the gentle giant as he turned and charged his way across the lobby and up to the cube of glowing candy encased in glass. My attention was then spontaneously redirected to the maroon colored floor covered in fluttering confetti designs and ever-growing vine-like shapes interweaving themselves in and out of the multi-colored dancing triangles and back into themselves and I wondered what fucking sick bastard would imagine such a mind-blowing experience and who the sadist was who decided to put it on a carpet to strike fear into the hearts of others in my condition who would have to bury their feet in this mess in order to reach their desired film. This thought angered me. I was offended. Was this personal? I felt that it might be.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Here take this!" My conspiracy hatchings were suddenly forgotten as a gallon-sized container of soda and the biggest fucking bucket of popcorn I had ever seen were forced into my arms. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What's this?" I asked before filling my mouth with the icy liquid that I felt tasted like flashing lights.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Soda & popcorn, fool! I gotta piss!" He said before slogging off and disappearing behind the corner of the lobby. I took another sip and imagined little germ-sized devils dancing around my tongue with their pitchforks & shooting fireworks off at the roof of my mouth. <i>Imagined</i>? Hell, I <i>knew</i> that's what was going on in there. My eyes wandered the confetti & vine infested Jumanji-like lobby until they finally met up with what I had dreaded seeing the most. I wanted to look away, but it had happened. My eyes were locked on and it was too late to do otherwise. I hadn't noticed until that moment that the entire wall behind the snack bar counter....was a MIRROR! I found my own reflection at the point of no return. I studied myself standing there, slowly lifting my gargantuan drink up to my face by its bucket handle, carefully burying my face into the pail of popcorn to let foam-like colonels stick to my protruding tongue, all the while never letting my eyes leave my own intent stare. I was, by far, the most fascinating creature that I had ever come across. I wondered what "alternative-me" thought about <i>my</i> appearance. Was he okay with how I dressed him this morning? I hoped he was. Alt-me stood there in the mirror, doing as I was doing, popcorn sticking to his tongue as I felt it cling to mine, staring back at me with a longing gaze. This was not a staring contest that I was going to lose! Fuck no, it wasn't. But something in my peripheral snuck its way into the moment that Alt-me and I were sharing and drew away my glare. "AAAH!" I choked on a little soda as I saw a group of bow-tie wearing zit-faces huddled together with the same weird look that the podium man had colored all over their faces. I stood there, not knowing what to do with myself, and glanced over at Alt-me for advice. He just shrugged back. I was on my own. That bastard! The bow-ties were sharing whispered snickers now. At my expense no less! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What the fuck are you doin', fool?? Don't look at the mirror!" Cannon shoved me from the side into the direction of our movie.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh! I'm not, man! I don't think those people like me!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? Who, them?? FUCK THEM!!" He pointed one of his enormous bratwurst digits at the cluster of pus-factories and changed to a tight-jawed serious tone, "Hey! You! Fuck you! We don't like you either! Okay? How's that? Let's go watch a goddamn movie, fool."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Wow. Thanks, man!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><b><i><u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"FINAL FAGGOTRY: THE LAMENESS WITHIN"</span></u></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon stomped on up to the large set of double doors to our designated auditorium and slammed them both open with a might far exceeding my own. He let me pass through first since I was shleppin' the refreshments with all of the hands I had. The room was long and narrow. Crimson curtains lining the wall flowed like gorgeous hair in the breeze all the way down to the screen perched up on the opposite wall which stood miles ahead of us. Every seat in there was empty except for one way down in the front which was occupied by a single, solitary bald head reflecting the glare of the house lights back at us like the North star. All the chairs ahead of us seemed to freely float like the gravestones at the beginning of our journey had. Shuffling themselves about, like a busy beehive of activity, except for one chair. Every chair had its own purpose in this random tango of movement except for that one chair containing that glistening bald head. That glittery dome was the only stationary object in the entire theater. Among shuffling chairs, beautifully flowing drapes, and a giant pulsating screen that may or may not have been breathing, this shimmering beacon of flesh colored light managed to somehow hold its ground as the only thing that could be used as a focal point that I could see.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh, damn. Where should we sit, fool?" Cannon seemed to be seeing the same things I was as he flopped what felt like a warm blown-up surgical glove full of ground pork on my back.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I don't know, man." I looked around. Would we have to catch some of these dastardly tricksters in order to sit? The weight of the decision sat heavy on my shoulders until I looked at the chairs lined up alongside me, "This row doesn't seem to be dancing. Let's get 'em before they leave."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What, fool? hahahaha You okay?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? I'm fine. Are you okay? How's your mom doing? Hurry up, man!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You're a nut. I think you're freakin' me out."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We entered about 4 rows from the back wall and side-stepped along a floor that didn't seem to want to let us go. Gripping onto our soles with every step. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Don't sit next to me, faggot!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I'M NOT!" I snapped back. How offensive. Why, I never, "Wait...do brothers sit next to each other?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck no, homo!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Well, I didn't know! Inquiring minds, bitch."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We sat down and I stared at that shining head down in front for I don't know how long before the lights finally dimmed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "We should go sit with that guy. It's only the three of us," I whispered awkwardly.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "He might be getting his dick sucked. Leave him alone," Cannon hissed back.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Eww! Gross....I think. Right? <i>Gross</i>?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "SHHHH!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Ok."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Trailer after trailer played before us. I had no clue what any of them were about or what they were trying to say. I attempted to follow the first one, but that head...that head would not let go of me. It was changing colors now with the different frames up on the screen. Fuck the trailers. I could see this motherfucker's thoughts or something. The opening credits started coming up at the beginning of the movie after the terrifying candy danced around in a fast-paced musical begging us to visit the concession stand so they could eat us. As the movie began, a flood of light washed into the room from the back. The doors had opened. The interest in what was coming through them was overwhelming. Who was it? Did I know them? I hope they like me! It was a teenage couple who staggered in wrapped up in each other. They hovered through and down the row to sit <i>RIGHT BEHIND ME</i>! I was drowning in unbearable excitement! My skin was jumping around and dancing about my girlish frame! What would they do next? Should I talk to them? No, Adam. Let them come to you. Don't come off as desperate. They might think you're weird. So I tried to ignore them. I stared at the colorful screen, but it had no chance of holding my attention. Every part of my brain was focused on that couple, listening to every move they made, imagining visuals to match the sounds. I couldn't take it anymore. <i>WHAT THE FUCK WERE THEY DOING?</i> I slowly spun around in my seat as to not draw suspicion. They were making out. Furiously too. Pawing at each other like a couple of epileptics trying to share a bowl of noodles with their bare hands. My heart erupted into a white-hot burst of exploding humming birds. This was the most astonishing thing I had ever witnessed. Before I knew it, I was sitting backwards on my knees studying their every movement. The bottom half of my face hidden behind the back of my seat as I peered over the top until I finally stood on high at full attention. They were far too involved in one another to notice the complete psychopath hovering over them in their moment of blind lust. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I felt like the guy from Wild Kingdom. Should I commentate the happenings here for the viewers at home? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Whoa." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Shit! That word just left my face without any form of permission! Son of a bitch! My number was up. The unnerving sound of my heavy-breathed voice broke their trance and they turned to me in unison sharing the same look of scared confusion in the glowing lavender light of the playing film. Startled, I turned to Cannon for guidance. Fuck! His seat was empty! Where did that fucker go?? I was panicked! I was all alone and panicked. Fuck! Then I saw an oversized hand shoot up from the floor and twist something small around in the light. "What the fuck are you doing, man??" I cried out in desperation. I needed to be saved!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> My enlarged pupils finally adjusted to looking down into the darkness and saw Cannon on all fours picking up small items, inspecting each one in the light and then throwing them back down in what seemed like a disappointed fit of anger.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> My question was met with a furious glare from the floor, "I don't fuckin know. What the fuck are <i>you </i>doing?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I don't fuckin know, man. Do you like this movie?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I don't know. Do you?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I think this movie might be lame. I dunno."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> He jumped up from the floor, smacked the back of one of the seats with a 1-ton blow, and cried out, "FUCK YEAH! THIS MOVIE FUCKIN' SUCKS, FOOL!!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I turned to the new objects of my affection and apologized. For what exactly? That was never established. My sorries were only answered by nervous stares like those of cowering pups. I tailed my beefy buddy back out into the lobby that had frightened me so just moments before. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "THAT MOVIE FUCKING SUCKS!!!" He roared at the bow-ties behind the counter, swinging his arms wildly about, "FAGGOTS!!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> They responded with speechless mouths agape. Who were these two psychotic scoundrels, what were they up to, and why did they choose today to come watch only a few minutes of a shitty cartoon? Their questions would never be answered. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, faggots!" I echoed in a less intimidating tone as we neared the exit.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><b><i><u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"ANYTHING OUTSIDE OF SAID DESIGNATED SQUARE IS CONSIDERED AN AUTONOMOUS UNIT FOR MID MALL SNACKING."</span></u></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We wandered out into the main corridor of the mall, hearts on the verge of arrest, breath short and rapid, eyeballs dangerously close to falling out of their sockets. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Wanna go and slang summa these yumyums, nigga?" I tried sounding normal. I failed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hahaha You're gonna get beat up, fool, and I'm not gonna help you."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? Why not? I'll calm down. Help me?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "With what? You're not getting beaten up yet, idiot! hahaha"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh, ok. Good thing. So should we sell this gum now? You should do the talking. Crazy isn't as creepy when it's bigger than you. I'm petite and greasy."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck yeah, fool! Let's go to the food court."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "K. Where's that?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fuck if I know, but we've been there before so I think we can find it. Take my hand, boss."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I took his hand in mine.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Ewww! FAGGOT! Let go, homo! It's The Green Mile, gayness."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh. I was joking too."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "No, you weren't, faggot."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh. I meant to be."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We travelled on. Passing shop after shop. My main focus was to find the food court while trying to dodge my reflection in the countless store windows and avoid eye contact with any of the million faces spinning around my own. Cannon was babbling about something that I couldn't follow. I was too occupied with walking in a straight line, trying to keep my gaze dedicated to the floor before me. My focus was broken when his actions snapped from what had become the norm and he stopped walking to look at something behind us. The look on his face excited me, but I didn't dare turn to see what he was looking at with an expression of furious glee and giddy rage all over his face. </span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px;">If that makes sense. That's what it was though.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What do you see, man?" I was desperate to know what was behind us, "Please! Fucking tell me, man! Oh, my fucking god. WHAT IS IT?" I didn't know if I was frightened or eager or what, but I was literally shaking with hysterical anticipation to find out what the fuck was back there and this brick wall of a dipshit wasn't fucking answering me in the slightest.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Well, look at that!" He said in an over joyous voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "WHAT?? WHAT THE FUCK IS IT, MAN? PLEASE TELL ME!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Turn and look, you fuckin mummalard!" He grabbed my shoulder and spun me around against my will. I shut my eyes tightly. Why? I don't have a clue, but I knew my heart couldn't afford any more excitement. Before I knew it, something was squeezing the whole upper half of my body, something smooth and soft brushing along the side of my face. Still slightly afraid, I told myself that this was a nice feeling and begged my eyes to do me the favor of opening just to see what was out there beyond my darkened lids. They granted me my wish and what I saw did to my heart exactly what I didn't want it to do. The sight I was seeing was glorious! The softest skin I had ever seen pressed against the side of my face. I could see every perfect pore and fuzzy little cilia all the way back to the flowing streaks of gold and brown curls. It could have been a baby seal or a bean bag chair for all I knew. I didn't care. Turns out it was another human being. Weird.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "OH, MY GOD! How are you guys?" The voice against my ear asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Fine," I let out in a gruff breath.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Eww! You guys don't have A/C in the car, or what?" The face backed up into my vision. It was my good lady friend Des, the black-Korean mixed Beyoncé look-alike from school and her freckle speckled sidekick, Danni. This excited me even more. I knew this person. Even better, I knew this person liked me. No disgusted gazes from strange faces here!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "We walked!" I announced proudly, smile stretching far behind my head.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What?? Why??" She backed up and her expression changed as she lunged back into my bubble and grabbed my face, "Holy fuck! What's wrong with your eyes?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? I dunno. Are they prettier than normal," an extremely creepy giggle of overwhelming joy escaped my lips.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Whoa...What the fuck are you guys on?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Confusion draped over me as if I forgot that I was on half the drugs known to man, "Us? Nothing! Why do you ask? Do you want some?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "No. Maybe your pupils are just perma-fucked from trippin all the time."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "C'mon, Des, let's go," her impatient friend seemed to grow uncomfortable with our unhitched behavior.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Alright," the soft skinned femme replied, "Well, are you guys gonna be here for a while? Maybe we'll see you again!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "OK!" I was overly-enthusiastic. Fuckin' dork.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We wandered further until the giant Burger King logo hovered its way into our line of sight. We stumbled up to a table in front of the Steak Escape with a look of empty wide-eyed wonder all over our grease-glazed faces.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Who should we sell gum to? Her, maybe?" I pointed to an older woman struggling to fit her Hot Dog On A Stick into her withered face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Her?? No." He leaned toward the woman, "Hey, old bitch, wanna buy some gum?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> She paused mid-bite with a look that said she had no idea how to respond.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "See, dummy?" He flopped back into his chair, "That bitch don't know nothin' about gum!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "If we eat more. It'll help us think more clearly!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Booyah."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We each gobbled down a few more sticks.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "We only have a little bit left now. I don't think I wanna get rid of it. It's a long walk. We're gonna need to eat more along the way." The brute's logic made more sense than anything I had ever heard.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You're right. I don't know how to read my watch. Maybe we should go. How long do you think we've been here?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "How the fuck should I know? An hour? Three days? What fuckin year is this?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The man raised some amazing questions. I had no clue what the answer to any of them was. What the fuck was <i>time</i> anyway? "Fucking crazy, man! I have no idea! How would anyone know?" My mind was blown.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon leaned back over toward the woman wrestling her mouth around the corndog that had no interest in buying our gum, "Hey, old bitch! What time is it? How long have we been here?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> She responded with numbers that we would never know the true meaning of and followed it up with, "How...how long have you been <i>where? </i>Leave me alone."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "How the fuck would I know?!?" He challenged back, "How can we still see the sun out there?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The bewildered patron glared back at him with a look of agitated shock with her food, again, suspended in mid chew for a duration that could have lasted anywhere from a few seconds to a couple hours before dropping the skewered wiener down onto her tray in what may have been disgust, she collected her things, and scurried off without another word.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Bitch." We would never find the answers to these scheduling mysteries that vexed our every thought.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Damn! You guys are <i>still</i> here? What the fuck are you weirdoes doing?" The familiar sound of a magically angelic voice made my feelings of a failing erection build as much as my anticipation for her eyes meeting mine. I couldn't speak. My jaw was jittering as quickly as my chemically-overloaded heart that was literally on the verge of bursting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon was quick to answer, "We're talking with this lady about how long we've been here," he pointed to the empty table.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What lady?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh," he seemed to forget that the woman had fled in fear of being raped by junkies, "I think she went to go find someone to help with the answer."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Ok, seriously...What the fuck are you guys on?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> It was then that I noticed an older man who looked like he was maybe pushin' 112 years sitting behind Cannon, his wrinkled skin rippling away from eye-sockets like stones had been hurled into the bulbous marble-like lakes that were the eyes bulging out of his face like a Simpsons character as my ape was eager to fill the beauty in on what we had done to ourselves. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "We're on <i>CRANK</i>, booze," he counted each poison off on each of his kielbasa-sized pointers, "Acid, ecstasy, and some of the finest weed you'll never know!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I could see the old centurion behind Cannon lean toward us and the sight of his bizarre marbles growing larger out of the landscape of countless multiplying skin folds draping his face began to frighten me in ways I could never describe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Are you fucking kidding me?" Des' jaw hung low in shock with what I interpreted as a certain sense of excitement in her voice.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You want some?" I was willing to share. The thought of having girls accompany us made my chest flutter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Ummm..." She looked at her friend for approval. Her friend had none to give. "No, I think we're ok. We have a lot to do." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Damn those shuffling freckles! They had buttfucked my chances of trying to have the one pretty lady I had seen that day, who was actually a pretty lady and not an old person or a dude, touch my flaccid, greasy member. In hindsight, I'm sure it never would have happened, but a person with my experience at the time knew better than to underestimate the power of a good girl with a head full of acid and aside from that, a person in our current condition would never even think to have any shame in anything. Trying to use a penis incapable of working would have just proven to be another fascinating venture. Oh well.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> My attention was redirected to the pleat-faced geezer who now had seemed to have taken quite an interest in the foul hooligans announcing the terrifying chemical cocktails swirling around in their wide-eyed skulls.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "We'll see you guys on Monday. Don't worry." The little giggle she let out as she spoke caused my legs to catapult me out of my chair.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hugs?" I let out in a breath of unnecessary desperation like a retard being introduced to new toys.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> My wish was granted despite my clothes being wetter than a load fresh out of the wash. The corners of my mouth extended to the top of my head as I watched them walk away. They turned to non-existence as they disappeared out of the food court and I turned to my gorilla, who had found strange interest in some old steak fries on the floor underneath our table.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Shall we, my good man?" I called out in an English accent. The sound of it confusing me. I wasn't English! What the fuck? Weird.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> He jumped up like a performing dolphin and we sashayed on out of that busy ant-farm of screeching dwarves and drooping faces of melting creases. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><b><i><u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"LONG WAY HOME...JUST ONE MORE STOP: THE ARAB"</span></u></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We hoofed it out across the parking lot into the scolding stare of the setting ball of fire resting on the tree tops with nonsensical conversations and drones of brother-love ramblings flowing like wine. We had eight pieces of magic left in the pack and a long trek ahead of us. We decided to save it for the half-way point. I don't recall who brought it up, but the sudden urge for Black & Mild cigars came over us with an unforgiving drive. We <i>had</i> to get them. The steady stream of wrapping ribbon racing itself around the black trails of asphalt became normal and was no longer a distraction as we worked our way toward the nearest store. We chose <i>not</i> to cross the street out of fear of the unknown, so the next store was a lot further than it had to be. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Blacks are $2.50. How much do we got?" The fact that I knew this without confusion or wonder surprised me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "We have...." he paused to dig through his pockets. "Nothing!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We shared a stare of disappointed defeat. This was devastating! </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "No Blacks?" I whimpered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "We'll figure it out, fool! We're pimps, remember?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The next mile or two involved a lot of silence. The exciting rush of the trip had worn off as we became used to the new world that our brains had created. We would stop at the occasional tree to inspect the ants & discuss how the bark felt, waxing philosophically on everything as if the theories we were exchanging, not only made sense, but were also the deepest thoughts ever said aloud. None of this was true, but we saw each other as a pair of modern Socrates-like supreme thinkers. This went on for a length of time neither one of us could calculate.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Miles of this hullabaloo went on until we came to a house, about half-way home, with an open garage door. Inside was the most beautiful machine we could have ever imagined. There in that tiny garage sat a shiny silver 1967 Corvette Stingray. The fact that this was the home of a complete stranger didn't seem to factor in to either one of our preoccupied heads. We bee-lined straight into that garage to investigate the mesmerizing beast. We circled it like hungry animals. Like curious apes. Feeling its smooth curves. Touching its every inch and then....a door opened. We didn't expect anyone to be there. Of course, people being there would be an obvious assumption to anyone else, but in such a state, you don't count on encountering anything that isn't already in your current field if vision. So anyway, out walks this Arab. No, no turbans. The guy wasn't jockin' a camel or anything. Don't be so stereo-typical. He greets us warmly with a thick middle-eastern accent, "Hello, guys! You like?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Startled by his presence, I stammer in response, "M-M-Me love!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> He goes into deep detail about the sleek machine in terms impossible to decipher. Talking about all of its inner-workings, its body, its history, its everything. At least, that's what I gathered from his wagging rolled tongue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "So....You guys want help me?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Sure. Ok. We help." I replied, unintentionally mimicking his speech patterns, not knowing what the fuck he wanted us to help with.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon was game too, "Fuck yeah! We help!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You help I lay down carpet in house?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yes, we help!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We followed the dark skinned man that looked like a photo negative of the Monopoly Man in through the door he had emerged from and into a large empty living room without any furniture or anything in it, except what looked like a giant Hostess HoHo across the floor.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon whispered in my ear, "Bomb." I only assumed he was thinking of the same visual analogy as I was.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You guys stand in corner."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> This worried me. "Are we in trouble?" I was nano-seconds away from gripping onto Cannons arm again in distress.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hahaha You guys funny. I like. No, hold carpet down in corner with feet and I tack down?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Our feet??" Terror consumed me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Shut the fuck up, fool!" Cannon shoved me to the corner. We stood there holding the carpet down for no one knows how long watching the mustached Arab crawl around on all fours pounding the edges. We watched in a silent fascination. After he was finished, we exchanged awkward small talk and then the subject of payment came up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? We have to pay you?" I was offended.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Ahhh, funny guy! HA HA I like! I do!" The happy Arab was pleased. "So how much you want, huh? 4? 5?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon and I shared an excited glance and I whispered to him, "Blacks!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> My companion shot back, "250!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Two hundred fifty? Ok! Even better!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I finally caught on that we were in the midst of negotiations. I <i>was</i> a teenage drug dealer after all. I took control, "No! Five dollars!" I gave an arrogant chuckle to Cannon, "Two packs of Blacks, beezy!" Cannon was pleased with my skills and gave me a nod of proud approval and a dap of the fist.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Alright," The Monopoly Man's shadow shook his head, "You guys are crazy. I like. Very nice. You are very nice boys. I thank you." He chuckled as a picture of Abe Lincoln came floating out of his pocket and into Cannon's hand. We neglected to offer a farewell in our fit of excitement for the cigars we would soon be enjoying. We darted out through the garage, didn't even give our new silver love a second glance, and continued onward to complete our journey. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hey! See you guys!" The Arab shouted out from behind us as we briskly soared down the street into the sun.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Shut up, stupid poonie," Cannon said under his breath laughing, "You're the man, fool! You fuckin' scammed the shit outta that nigga! You might be a scary psychopath sometimes, but you got some aces in your fuckin' pocket, fool!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Aces?" I had no clue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Never mind, dummy. Good fuckin' job though, man!" </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><b><i><u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"THUG LIFE!"</span></u></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> As the sun set slowly in the west, we finally began nearing our neighborhood as we furiously chewed the last of our mystical Wrigley's spearmint trip sticks. Thick, stale flavored smoke trickling past our cheeks as we continued believing one another's feaux-intellectual babbling. We were bosses. We were gods of our own world. There was nothing above us. Nothing could touch us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> As we passed the large grassy hill of the high school that lead up to a giant 100 yard ditch known as "The Bowl," which was once supposed to be a football arena that never got finished, the darkness began coating the sky and we could both see the dark silhouette of a figure moving questionably on the other side of the street under a security light. We slowed our travels in an attempt to make out this mysterious entity with what may have been a skateboard hanging at its side. Then the horrific noises rang out from it as it started charging us.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "'AY, BLUH!" It screamed out in a high pitched tone that petrified my every muscle before it started shrieking wildly, skateboard cocked back above its head ready to attack, and thick, rope-like braids flailing around its head like the Predator. The high screeching of its squeal penetrated my very soul. Nothing this terrifying had ever happened to me in the real world and I had been through a fair share of shit in my day. Cannon was on his own. His safety didn't even cross my mind. He was a big guy. He could take care of himself. Me, on the other hand, I was small & frail with a heroin-chic physique. I shoved off of Cannon's side like a vertical diving board to boost my speed as I fled up the hill into the blackness of the unlit bowl.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "'Ay, peep this faggot. Runnin' like a little girl & shit." The high toned Tyson-like voice was familiar. It was Knock. Another giant Samoan that was on Cannon's football team.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The two of them shared mean-spirited cackles at the expense of the only puny one...the only skinny white one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, faggot! You were gonna let me <i>die?"</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I...I...dunno. I'm fuckin' trippin' balls! Shit was scary as shit, man!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Aww, y'all is on that shit?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon answered him with the same finger countdown that he had used to educate Des on our mind frame.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Damn, nigga, y'all kids is crazy retarded, player." He was never much to participate in the trippy shit. "So, hey...Whatchy'all finna' get into right now?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Cannon shrugged. Trying to put on his cool guy facade to cover the retardation, "Just chillin', pimp. You feel me? What'chu 'bouts to do?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "My cuzzo's throwin' a Blood gang party over on Greenholme. I was about to find a ride & hit it up. Y'all should come through. I'll even let you come, white boy. hahaha I ain't gonna say you gonna be safe though."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Shit," my recent girly retreat escaped me, "Can't nothin' scare Bigg Addogg!" I followed my pitiful retort by howling like a sick puppy.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Whateva, nigga. Let's go then!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Knock wandered away from the huddle to make a phone call.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You know you're gonna be the only white person there, right?" Cannon shoved me back into the hill. "You skerred?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "No. I hang out with you guys all the time & never get into shit."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, fool, but these niggas are straight thugs. You look at someone wrong, you hittin' curb status and you just ran like a bitch from Knock."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You gonna have my back?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Ha! I dunno, fool. I ain't tryna get killed. I'm trippin', but I think I still know better."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I think the trip'll help me anyway. Knock got me cuz that shit was scary lookin', but if a bunch of gangsta ass homo-thugs start talkin' shit about prison fuckin' my butthole or somethin', I don't think I'll really get scared till it starts poppin' off cuz I feel way too crazy to be able to recognize a threat until I see it about to hurt me."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Alright, tough guy."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> A mini-van pulled up alongside us & Knock threw the side door open. "'Ay, y'all, 'dis is my nigga, Nutt. He's gonna shoot us over there."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Damn, you takin' the white boy too? You fucked up, Knock." They all laughed as I stood there, not sure how to respond.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "He's a cool ass white boy 'doh. Nigga makes me laugh. He'll be cool." Knock assured his intimidating giant black friend behind the wheel, who only appeared to be a floating set of eye whites and a half a set of teeth hovering in the darkness, eyeballing me from the rearview.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The unattached lingering pearlescent facial features brought the three of us to the thug party as requested. The ride there was a swarm of squiggly lasers of passing beams of light. The wrapping ribbons that once raced around the city were now dull, lifeless dusty looking trails blowing about the capsule that carried us. For those not from the Sacramento area, Greenholme is not one of the nicest streets to find yourself on once the sun goes down. All racism aside, this especially goes for folks that share my complexion. With that being said, in any other circumstance, the sight we pulled up to would strike a few nerves in a person in my position, but luckily, my brain was unable to produce any form of primal defenses so I was all about it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Damn, Adam! What the fuck are <i>you</i> doin' here, bwoi?" Familiar faces began emerging from the side of the Blood-walking contest going on in front of the two story quad-plex containing the gathering.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I like to party." I didn't have anything wittier off the cuff. "This fuckin' shindig is in an apartment?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, but the shit's sorta poppin'," my buddy Spig tried persuading me on it. "Hahaha You scared, white boy?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Shut the fuck up! Why the fuck is everyone asking me that?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Cuz you should be! hahaha"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "That's fucked up." I wandered off with my gorilla at my side. The flashing strobe from within the doorway drew us inside like insects. Dark, angry faces pacing back & forth in front of me staring dead into my very soul like hounds preparing an attack. I leaned to Cannon, "Should I really be scared? I'm not," I really wasn't but knew that I should have been, "These people don't really seem to want me here, huh?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I dunno, fool. You'll be good. Just stay cool."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, I'm cool." </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> We squeezed through the crowd and watched from the sidelines as a group of dred-headed girls were having some kind of a dance-off in the middle of the room. With each flash of the strobe, I'd see another face staring at me from the corner of my eye and when I'd look to them, they wouldn't be, but another one would. My eyes darting all around trying to catch at least one of them. My attempts were then interrupted by a pissed off looking big ass Michael Clark Duncan motherfucker passing by really close to my face yelling over the music, "WHAT'S GOOD, WHITE BOY?" He said through a serious frown in a tone that sounded like his voice box had been replaced by a 30-inch sub.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hi." I immediately loathed myself for such a white reply. He looked me up & down with a disgusted look and continued on. Cannon looked at me as if he were scared for my life.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Was that bad?" I wasn't sure.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "'Hi?' Yeah, fool. I thought that monster was gonna fuckin eat you! He definitely doesn't want you here."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Our conversation was cut short by a ruckus coming from the center of the room. A group of girls singled out one of their own and were beating the living shit out of her. One of them was holding her head to the floor by her hair as the rest stomped on her about her face and mid-section. It was ruthless. The raw brutality of it made my heart race. This was the coolest thing ever and I was front row for it. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, the group carried the girl up the flight of stairs in the back of the flashing room just to throw her back down them again. They did this twice before continuing to beat her on the ground some more. The girl's braids were all over the floor, torn from her head, looking like black snakes slithering about the flashing carpet under the strobe. This went on for what felt like days before an older woman that looked like Cicely Tyson on a crack binge came trudging down the stairs with a crooked posture. She cried out for someone to "Turn off that gat'damn muh'fuckin' music right nah!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Somebody did as the elder had ordered and now the only sound in the room was her voice as she made her way to the main attraction. "Stop it! Stop!" She yelled as she pushed the aggressors to the side and crouched down next to the balding beaten girl, "Gat'demmit, child, you alright?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The girl whimpered out, "Yeah, I'm cool." She was obviously trying not to cry.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The old woman graced her hand down alongside the girl's face before gripping onto the little bit of hair she had left. "THEN GET THE MUH'FUCK UP OUT MY HOUSE THEN, BITCH!!" The woman started punching the girl in the face over and over again with a shriveled fist while the girl's feet floundered around trying to find some footing on the floor. Cannon and I were so fucking excited, we were practically jacking each other off. Our fists clenched and shaking near our chests, trying to suppress the giggles through clenched-jawed exaggerated grins. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "AIN'T NO FIGHTIN' IN MY MUH'FUCKIN HOUSE, BITCH!! GET THIS 'LIL TRICK UP OUTTA HERE!!" She ordered the other girls and they picked the girl up and carried her out, limbs desperately wagging about, her screams for help going unanswered. I never knew the fate of that girl. Once she passed through that door way, I never heard word of her again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Oh, my god!" I giddily squealed. My voice being the only noise heard in the room since the beaten one got escorted to her doom.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You think that shit's funny, white boy?" A faceless voice said from the flashing crowd.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I had no response. I knew I had fucked up.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What the fuck you doin' here anyhow?" The scary old witch's attention was aimed at me now. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I go lost on the way home. My mistake. I'm sorry! I'm sorry." I wanted no part of this and neither did Cannon. He started lightly pushing me toward the door, guiding me to safety.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Damn right, you is!!" She called out from behind me. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> My friend Spig was still out front & asked what happened. I had no time to explain since I had an entire tribe of less than happy people displeased with my presence. I walked past him and got into his car without asking. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You should give me a ride to my house real quick!" I yelled to him from the passenger seat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I was one lucky fuck for having at least a few friends attending this fun-fest. He did as I asked. I was only a few blocks away anyway and Cannon decided to stick around since he didn't stick out as much as I did and Knock lived right around the corner from him so it would work out better for him to get a ride from that scary Nutt dude. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> Feeling relief as Spig turned the engine over, my breathing coming back to normal was stopped by a can of King Cobra being thrown at my door as we started taking off.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Thank you so much, man. I think I was maybe gonna die back there."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "You <i>were</i> gonna die back there. Ain't no maybe about it. I didn't wanna have to watch that shit. You probably would've cried and it would've made things uncomfortable for everyone."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> By the time we reached the front of my house, I started realizing that my visions weren't as strong anymore. My drugs were wearing off. I still felt weird and my skin was still super-sensitive, but I wasn't out-of-my-fucking-mind insane anymore. I showered Spig in another spritz of less than masculine gratitude and made my way into the house. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0.25in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><b><i><u><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 18pt;">"LET'S WRAP THIS BITCH UP"</span></u></i></b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I don't recall what exactly I did once I got inside. I remember my mom was already in bed so I went straight to my room. The next thing I remember is being woken up the next morning by the phone mounted on the wall next to my bed ringing out a deafening sound that made my eyeballs want to explode. My eyes were cemented shut with sleepy-time boogers and every inch of my body was in agony. I swore to myself silently that I would never do drugs again. That wasn't worth this! Well, maybe a little, but<i> NEVER AGAIN</i>!! Fuck that shit. What the fuck was I doing to myself? I swore at that moment that I would lead the rest of my days as a sober-Sally like those successful fuckers at school that I'd spit on so many times in the halls. Yeah, today was the dawning of a new era. The feeling in my bones was no fuckin picnic. I felt like I had been ridden by a fucking rhino all night and....I was naked. I never slept naked, but whatever. When on Mars, right? This was it. I wouldn't feel this way ever again.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> The phone shoved yet another icepick into my ear. "Fuck!" I picked it up without checking the caller ID before it could get another chance to assault my senses. "What!?" I said in groggy rage.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What's up, fool? You good?" 'Twas my gorilla.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, man. You made it home ok?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Yeah, that nigga Nutt dipped me back to the heeze."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Cool...cool."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Hey."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "'Sup?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "I got an ounce of shrooms and a half vile of acid on consignment, nigga! How you feelin'? You down for an adventure?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> I thought about my new life plan. I had to tell him. That should be the adventure we take. The adventure of success! But would he come along? How should I break this....?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "How can I put this?" I hesitated.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Just spit it out, Sally!"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "Does the pope poop in his hat?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "What? I don't fuckin know! Is that a riddle? What the fuck does that mean?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"> "IT MEANS, FUCK YEAH, I'M DOWN, FAGGOT! I'll be there in an hour."</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>**©Copyright August 16th, 2011 Adam A. Smith** </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 5pt 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt;"><i>(THAT MEANS: Rip it off & I'll have that ass.)</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none;"><br />
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004965ILC&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B005DVYTEE&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0892818573&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B001EQ4GHC&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B000VU0KGS&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe> </div></div></div></div>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-500280137119318342011-08-11T13:29:00.000-07:002012-01-10T12:09:05.486-08:00Ol' Uncle Adam Goes To The Movies!: "Cowboys & Aliens"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cowboys-Aliens-Original-Poster-Harrison/dp/B004DR8UAS?ie=UTF8&tag=thrararaofare-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Cowboys and Aliens Original Movie Poster Harrison Ford, Daniel Craig" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B004DR8UAS&tag=thrararaofare-20" /></a></div>
This movie fucking SUCKED. I'm not gonna beat around any bushes or anything. I'm just gonna lay it out for you straight: LAMENESS. <img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thrararaofare-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B004DR8UAS" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important;" width="1" /><br />
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For a concept that had so much potential for so much more, Favreau goes for the bare minimum with this cliche-riddle shit-fest. The aliens are nothing new at all, Harrison Ford plays the same tough-as-nails-I-have-no-feelings-but-I-will-at-the-end shitty quasi-bad guy, Daniel Craig tries to not sound like Liam Neeson in Next Of Kin and fails, Sam Rockwell's character could've been played by anybody at all, and Olivia Wilde is involved in one of the dumbest fucking plot "twists" since the last ticket-pushing buttfuck Shyamalan squeezed out of his overrated asshole. That's pretty much it. That covers it. Independence Day's stupidity with a different wardrobe and minus the excitement. It's like Hollywood ate a big bowl of old spaghetti westerns with a side of B-movie space invasion thrillers and shit out this fuckin doodoo mashup. Skip it. I'm not even gonna score this kaka, but speaking of kaka....Instead of adding collector's items related to the film below my review, I've decided to offer you something a little different this time. These are things that this movie reminds me of. Enjoy!<br />
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B001O8F0W0&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><br />
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0039C2L1M&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B002EXKF4C&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B000OCEWGW&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0011Z330C&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-26350416282231921382011-08-09T14:28:00.000-07:002012-01-10T12:11:11.203-08:00Ol' Uncle Adam Goes To The Movies!: "Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes"<div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Planet-Framed-Poster-Movie-Inches/dp/B005E34VA8?ie=UTF8&tag=thrararaofare-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Rise of the Planet of the Apes Framed Poster Movie 11 x 17 Inches - 28cm x 44cm" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B005E34VA8&tag=thrararaofare-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thrararaofare-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B005E34VA8" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important;" width="1" /> <img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thrararaofare-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B005E34VA8" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important;" width="1" /> I've never really been the guy to get all wet over summer movie blockbuster regurgitated action crap. Transformers: We've been there. Harry Potter: Damn, still? Avatar: Fucking hated it with a hot fiery passion. I could list off countless more beautiful embarrassments, but I think you smell what I'm squirtin here. As an admitted viewer of movies I shouldn't have at home yet, I have to admit that I'm glad that I actually went and paid to go see this (aside from the fact that the theater I went to had assigned seating. What the fuck kinda shit is that? I'm a grown ass man! I don't want some lil 15 year old tweeny-bop bitch telling me where to park my ass. FUCK YOU RAVE THEATERS. Whatever. Sorry. Anyway...)<br />
<a name='more'></a>I walked into Rise with the expectation of a dumbed-down remake of an old B-movie with prettier special effects. Fuck that! This movie blew me away. I'll even get corny on you for a second and say that I may have paid for my whole seat, but I only used the edge (hardy-fuckin-har). I was expecting a bunch of Jumanji style monkeys causin some mischief, but that's not it. The effects in this movie were some of the best I've ever seen. Sure, Avatar was a pretty bitch, but she was dumb as fuck so I think that took away from some of the beauty for me. This movie has the best motion capture CGI in my book, considering that our hero has some amazing fuckin acting chops for a star that was completely manufactured. The expressions on this monkey's face really get you emotionally charged to follow along with him. He's a fuckin badass! Can't really say much for the human actors in the flick. They all came stock with pretty flat, cliché performances with the exception of John Lithgow, who always plays a perfect psycho or retard. The human roles aren't necessary though. The CG apes here do more than enough to carry this film & get the audience pumped for the inter-species showdown at the finale. <br />
Don't be afraid to bring the kiddie-winkies along either. I took my 7 year old to see it and the only questionable things I didn't feel comfortable with him seeing were some of the scary and racy rated R trailers before the film. The actual movie just had some stylized action violence. He dug the shit out of it.<br />
As far as movies go, I'll throw a 7/10 on here, but as far as cheesy glorified B-movie action doodoo goes, this fine ass bitch gets herself a 10+/10. Go...see it now.<br />
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P.S.: If you go and see The Smurfs instead, you're a total fag. Not a stick-a-dick-in-me-I'm-gay Matthew Shepherd bigotry kinda fag, but a you-should-be-punched-in-the-face-every-morning-when-you-wake-up-nobody-likes-you-you-have-no-taste kinda fag.<br />
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004LWZW4M&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><br />
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004LWZW4W&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B001G7PX80&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B000E6ESEY&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B001O310T2&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></div>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-72820211552551773822011-07-29T09:40:00.000-07:002012-01-10T12:13:45.228-08:00Ol' Uncle Adam Goes To The Movies!: "Super"<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Super-Poster-Promo-Flyer-Wilson/dp/B004QPDIL8?ie=UTF8&tag=thrararaofare-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img alt="Super Poster - Promo Flyer - 11 x 17 - Rainn Wilson 2011 Movie Liv Tyler" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B004QPDIL8&tag=thrararaofare-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thrararaofare-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B004QPDIL8" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important;" width="1" /> "SHUT UP, CRIME!!" is the awesome catch-phrase of our "hero," The Crimson Bolt, in the new addition to a forming trend of anti-superhero movies following such others as Defendor, Special, and the disappointing Kick-Ass. Rainn Wilson is Frank. A painfully pathetic loser who finds out that his ex-junkie wife (Liv Tyler) has willingly left him for a cock-of-the-walk super-cool drug-dealing Kevin Bacon. After finding it impossible to cope, Frank finds inspiration in a terrible low budget TV hero named The Holy Avenger on the Jesus Network and decides that it's time to don a DIY superhero costume and start fighting crime with nothing more than a pipe-wrench. Along his crusades, he picks up a psychotic kid sidekick named Boltie (Ellen Page). The rules were written long ago; You don't butt in line, you don't key cars, and YOU DON'T MOLEST CHILDREN! This is definitely my new favorite of the average-Joe wannabe-hero movies I listed above because it does, by far, the best job of making you cackle and cringe, all at the same time. Not only did the comedy have me soggin up my manties, but it's got a lot to offer in the aspect of gore too. James Gunn (Slither) creates a perfect mesh of dark humor and cracked-skull, exposed-brain-fragment ultra-violence. <br />
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You've probably never heard of it, I never saw it advertised anywhere, but you gotta take Ol' Uncle Adam's word for it, kids. This flick is the motherfuckin bees knees. I can't think of a single thing that I disliked about it. It had my vag drippin for hours after having seeing it and I'm sure yours will too if you're not one of those Hollywood-vomit lovin Avatard support-spoon-feeder assholes that buys tickets to awful regurgitations of giant alien robots or defamations of classic cartoons. This here's one a'dem big-boy movies. Check your panties at the door. I slap a 9/10 on this one.<br />
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0051PLR8S&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0051PLQR0&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0055LVWJW&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B005E331MC&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-5847788584807101702011-07-28T13:56:00.000-07:002012-01-10T12:13:54.783-08:00Ol' Uncle Adam Goes To The Movies!: "Captain America: The First Avenger"<div>
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Captain-America-Poster-Teaser-Avenger/dp/B004QP5618?ie=UTF8&tag=thrararaofare-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" target="_blank"><img alt="Captain America Poster - MT Teaser Flyer - 11 x 17 The First Avenger Movie" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B004QP5618&tag=thrararaofare-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thrararaofare-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B004QP5618" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important;" width="1" /><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thrararaofare-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B004N70P9M" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important;" width="1" />The best superhero movie since the first Iron Man (sorry, nothing will ever compare to Dark Knight). Joe Johnston's come a long way with this worthy addition to the ever growing Marvel Universe franchise since such forgettable yawn-fests as Hidalgo and the terribly embarrassing cheese of The Wolfman. I have to admit that, considering all of the strategically amusing cross-overs that Marvel has done with their latest films to make their Universe feel more like a world of its own, I was a little upset to find out that Chris Evans was cast in this installment since he has already appeared as the Human Torch in the awful shit-on-my-fond-comic-memories Craptastic 4 movies, but after seeing him shine as the would-be stereo-type of an underdog, I'm willing to sweep those two cartoonish turd-muffins under the rug. Super powers aside, this flick does a great job of assuming the role of a nostalgic WWII-propaganda-waving period piece. It has an amazing and the drama in it is pretty decent with Evans bumbling around as a gee-golly-sorry-about-that dipshit for the first half. Then, our little 90lb wuss gets a makeover in the same machine that Steve Urkel used to use to become Stephan Urkell. Steve Rogers ups Urkel though in the babe factor. He sets his sights on a bangin Brit (Hayley Atwell) instead of stressin over the panties of that plain-looking, big-toothed, giant-forehead havin Winslow girl next door. Ahhh, but I digress. I give this flick a pretty healthy recommendation. Sure it has it's cheese-factors, but what Hollywood production doesn't come stock with forced love angles and diluted dialogue? It comes with the territory. You just gotta know what kinda turd your steppin in. It's no Dark Knight, but luckily, it sure as hell isn't The Green Fuckin Lantern by any means either. I'd give it a 6.5/10.<br />
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0009RG94K&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004N70P9M&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0785128662&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004RIACPY&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></div>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-9275062239789370062011-07-24T15:19:00.000-07:002012-01-10T12:15:38.774-08:00Ol' Uncle Adam Goes To The Movies!: "Sucker Punch"<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sucker-Punch-Poster-Movie-Inches/dp/B004H7J3KA?ie=UTF8&tag=thrararaofare-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" target="_blank"><img alt="Sucker Punch Poster Movie Style I (11 x 17 Inches - 28cm x 44cm) Jamie Chung Carla Gugino Jon Hamm Vanessa Hudgens Emily Browning Movie MasterPoster Print, 14x11" src="http://ws.amazon.com/widgets/q?MarketPlace=US&ServiceVersion=20070822&ID=AsinImage&WS=1&Format=_SL160_&ASIN=B004H7J3KA&tag=thrararaofare-20" /></a><img alt="" border="0" height="1" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=thrararaofare-20&l=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969&o=1&a=B004H7J3KA" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px !important; padding-left: 0px !important; padding-right: 0px !important; padding-top: 0px !important;" width="1" />Girl Interrupted Meets The Spartans in The Matrix. Soooo, all that shitty girl-power cheesy action shit really just meant the bitch was doin some shitty dance? What kinda shit is that? The magnitude of this shitty movie's utter shittiness knows no bounds. Adam disapproves. I normally enjoy a little plot or character development in the movies I watch and this steamin heap of chick shit is a prime example of why. <br />
"I have an idea! Let's remake Spice World and have the guy that made The Legends Of Ga'fuckinHoole direct it. Yeah, people like gratuitous slow motion ninja flips and strippers! Let's have all of our overly stylized flips be for absolutely no fucking reason and let's make it so that none of the strippers ever take their clothes off. Yeah, that makes sense! It shows that they have integrity or some shit. Don't forget to give them all stupid names that make no fucking sense and, for kicks, we'll throw in that girl from High School Musical who flashed her pubes on the internet that one time. Hey! What's Scott Glenn doing these days? You think he might have time to play a character that isn't real who ends up playing a real guy at the end like one of them mind-blowing Shyamalan twists? Yeah, people are fucking stupid. They'll love it. Maybe we can litter all of his scenes with cliche old samurai master advice so that people will think he's deep and quote him on their Facebook posts! Oh, the people will pour in by the masses for it! Not only will they pay for it, but we can charge an extra $5 for them to wear uncomfortable goggles while we make a fun little gimmick out of throwing random shit at the camera for no fuckin reason! Brilliant! Fuck you, America!"<br />
Well, fuck you, Mr. Zack Snyder. Fuck you very much. I thought you had something going for you after 300, Watchmen, and your pretty decent remake of Dawn Of The Dead (I'll overlook the Owl movie. C'mon, he tried for the kids!), but now I see you're just another Hollywood whore. They turned out Joe Carnahan, even Kevin Smith turned to flippin tricks with Cop Out...and now you too can hang your jersey on the wall of director's that had so much to offer, but went to the dark side. Tell Michael Bay I said "Hi," you money-grubbin bitch.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sucker-Punch-Poster-Movie-Inches/dp/B004H7J3KA?ie=UTF8&tag=thrararaofare-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" target="_blank"><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004EPYZU8&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></a><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004EPYZUI&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sucker-Punch-Poster-Movie-Inches/dp/B004H7J3KA?ie=UTF8&tag=thrararaofare-20&link_code=bil&camp=213689&creative=392969" imageanchor="1" target="_blank"><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004UUKQMI&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></a><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004YARLOU&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-75594172936271167312011-07-18T19:58:00.000-07:002012-01-10T12:22:26.232-08:00Total Fuckin' Noob (is that how you spell that? I dunno...Whatever. You're the dumb one)<div>
Alright, dammit. After having everyfuckinbody and their uncle's secret lovers hound me for I don't know how long, I finally made a damn blog site. I don't know what the hell to put on here at the moment and seeing as how I'm feeling a little pressured here like when someone comes up and tells you to "SAY SOMETHING FUNNY!!! HYUK HYUK HYUK!" (like you have a whole set lined up for such an obnoxious occasion. Shut the fuck up, dummy.) or when it's time for a latent homosexual in denial to wipe the nervous sweat away & prove himself at the ol' labe plate, I chose, rather than to whip out something new and panty-drenchin, to just waste time writing you a drawn-out excuse here and then I lazily added 3 of my old pieces from my last failed blog (god, that fucking word's stupid). So here it is, fuckers. Judge me. Tear me down. Give me cyber-blowies equal to that of the metaphorical celluloid dick-sucking J.J. Abrams gave to Spielberg when he made Super-8. I don't care. I'm a needy bitch that yearns for your attention so give it to me fierce, Papi. If you do happen to dig my future scribblings, I added a "share" option on the side of the page under my breath-taking self-portrait so you can help whore me out to strangers in hopes that this puppy learns to shit outside. If you don't, just talk your shit in the comments and I'll be open to any of it...I'll probably just tell you to go fuck yourself though since I have issues with any thoughts or ideas having to do with me not being better than you. In any case...that's all I got for now.</div>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-10631676152709110512011-07-18T18:17:00.000-07:002011-07-29T08:55:22.879-07:00THIS JIGGLY BLOB OF DUMBFUCK IS REAL! SHE IS NOT A MYTH! I'VE MET HER!!! FOR THE LOVE OF SWEET FUCKING CHRIST, SAVE YOURSELVES!!! In the land of the retarded, he who thinks shall be looked down upon. <em>Welcome to motherfucking <span style="color: red;">[<strike>company name omitted</strike>]</span><span style="color: black;">,</span></em> where dreams go to die!<br />
<br />
<em> </em>You know that episode of the Twilight Zone where the guy wakes up and he's the same, but everyone else in the entire world is different? ....Well, you know <em>every </em>episode of the Twilight Zone? That is what has become of my daily work life. I honestly believe that, had there never been an Einstein, I could actually walk into that god-forsaken fuckin tard farm and break down the theory of relativity in great detail and my store manager wouldn't hesitate to make a blatant low-vocab comment about what an idiot I am and then cut both my pay and hours, but if any one of the other managers walks in, points to a purple bag and announces, "THIS RED!" she would be showered in praise and probably offered a raise while getting a motherfucking shiatzu.<br />
<br />
The dummies that inhabit this godless shithole are absolutely dimmer than no other, but in comparison, they shine like tin foil to a simple bitch once one EXCEPTIONAL snot brained dipshit opens the door. <em>SWEET FUCKING CHRIST!!!!</em> She, who shall remain nameless (it's currently my day off so I'd prefer to save my cerebral cortex from any further blood vessels bursting from the thought of her name), is by far & away<em> THE </em>stupidest person (without an actual clinical mental disorder) that I have ever encountered in my entire life! I've met dummies before, but <span style="color: red;"><strike>[name omitted</strike><strike>]</strike></span> takes the tard cake like no other. No words can possibly do justice for just how fucking vacant this bitch's head is. <span style="color: red;"><strike>[name omitted<del></del>]</strike></span> needs to be locked up in a university somewhere to be studied for future generations to come! No Joke. No exaggeration. Dumber than a bucket of monkey spunk! Words like dumb, stupid, dense, dim, retarded, moronic, idiotic, etc. do absolutely <em>NOTHING</em> to describe <span style="color: red;"><strike>[name omitted<del></del>]</strike></span><span style="color: black;">.</span> A whole new word needs to be concocted just to even begin some sort of definition for this IQ level (or lack there of). She is more than enough to show even the pope, himself, that there is either no God at all, or that if there is, he is a complete fucking sadist! I can actually feel my knowledge of things like the alphabet, multiplication tables, how to ride a bike, etc. evaporating out of my ear like useless vapor as she speaks. <br />
<br />
I realize that the descriptions that I have put out on the table thus far may seem "out there," "far-fetched," maybe even unbelievable. I realize this. That is precisely the reason why I'd like to lay out a few prime examples of the countless accounts of mind-numbing mummalardium (<--<em>I made that up!</em>) that I have to deal with daily! So, please, before moving forward, make sure that you're strapped into your rubber helmet and have something soft in your mouth to keep you from severing your tongue or breaking your teeth. It hurts.<br />
<br />
She tells me to move something on the shelf, I say, "I cannot." She says, "The reason being?" I respond, "I have no hands." After a look of head-cocked confusion similar to that of a puppy when you blow a dog whistle, she <em>ACTUALLY</em> looks down at my hands and with a look of enlightened realization says, "Oh, you!"<br />
<br />
For Xmas, she (a manager, mind you) buys a bunch of the minor aged employees bottles of wine. When told that she could get in a lot of trouble for buying 18 & 19-year-old employees alcohol, she responds "Well, no! You only have to be 21 to be in bars, not to drink. They're over 18. I'm not<em> THAT </em>stupid!" I say, "No, you have to be that age in a bar <em>BECAUSE</em> they serve alcohol." She says, "Nuh-uhh! Oh, man! I didn't know that!"<br />
<br />
She says, "Do you have any gum or candy?" I answer, "No, I actually don't eat candy OR chew gum." She replies, "But do you have any?" I repeat myself & add, "Why would I have any if I don't eat the shit?!?" Soon after, she finds some candy in the office & when she comes out with it, she announces to me, "I found some candy back there! Do you want some?" "NO, GODFUCKINGDAMMIT! I DON'T FUCKING EAT FUCKING CANDY!!!!" She then comes back with, "Well, I didn't know! Geeze!"<br />
<br />
She was trying to convince me that vampires and witches exist. I tell her, "Well, no. There's people that practice vampyrism and there's people that practice witchcraft, but the actual beings don't really exist. There's a difference." She stands firmly (and sorta jiggly), "No! They're REAL!!" I humor her, "Okay, we live in one of the most densely populated tourist cities in the world (Vegas). There's ALL types here. I want you to go out there into the mall or walk down there to the strip and bring me back a motherfuckin' vampire. I work 'til 7. It'll be dark. I'll wait." She replies, "Silly. They wouldn't hang out there!" "What the fuck?? Where the fuck would they hang out then??" "I dunno! Besides, How do <em>you </em>know they're fake anyway?" I grumble, "The fuckin' Tooth Fairy told me." And she actually says in what sounded to me like a tone of disbelief, "She did not!"<br />
<br />
I can't go on. It's too painful to my thinking parts, but there it is. That is just a mere taste of just a few of the most recent "conversations' with <span style="color: red;"><strike>[name omitted]</strike></span><span style="color: black;">.</span> She really exists. She is not a myth. She is not an imaginary figment. I, children, have to deal with this jiggly blob of dumbfuck everytime I go to work. I don't want pity. No, save the pity. Just understand. Understand why I detest going into work with every single ounce of my very being. Has your intellect ever<em> actually </em>been injured? Do you know how loud an embolism sounds when it explodes in <em>your</em> head? No? Talk to the bitch. FUCKING TALK TO HER! And you, too, will know. You, too, will see my dismay. Tell the townsfolk and warn the children! She's out there! <br />
<div></div><div></div><div><strong><em><u>STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM <span style="color: red;"><strike>[NAME OMITTED]</strike></span><span style="color: black;">!!!!</span></u></em></strong></div><br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B002FAOVI0&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B003YNR0FS&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B00005Q79A&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004FA8CK6&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-37319213243191740632011-07-18T18:13:00.000-07:002011-07-18T18:13:10.078-07:00An exerpt from one of Adam's most recent fantasies...Please, enjoy. I know I did. I'm Adam!>>>(in this scene/fantasy, our hero, Adam, has brought some homemade burritos to work for his bosses to show just how much he appreciates their efforts. Ok. And here we go...)<<<<br />
<br />
OUR HERO, ADAM: "Here are those delicious special burritos I told you all about. I certainly hope you enjoy them!" <br />
EVIL BOSSES: "Mmm. Yes, Adam. Delicious. Yes. Quite delicious indeed. We love them. You must share the recipe. What is this delightful meat I'm tasting here? We love the meat. Please tell us about this heavenly meat that has graced our tastebuds. It is a delight! Please. Share with us this meat secret. This secret meat. Mmmm. Delightful meat." <br />
OUR HERO, ADAM: "Oh, the meat? What's the meat, you ask? Yes, well let me tell you...IT'S YOUR STUPID KIDS [and copious amounts of semen], YA' DUMB BITCH!! OH, YEAH! CHALK ONE UP FOR THE MOTHERFUCKIN HOME TEAM, BABY! YUP! I TOTALLY FILLETED & DICED YOUR DEMON SPAWN AND YOU JUST FUCKIN ATE 'EM [and copious amounts of semen], YOU AWFUL AWFUL PEOPLE! MOOOHOOHOOHAHAHAHA! YES! WHO IS THE DUMB ONE NOW? NOT ME! I DIDN'T JUST EAT *MY* KID [and copious amounts of semen]!!! I FUCKING WIN, CUNTS! WHO'S A DUMB CUNT? THAT'S YOU! FUCK YEAH IT IS! YOU'RE DUMB CUNTS! MOOOHOOOHOOHAHAHAHA YOU WANNA KNOW WHY? CUZ YOU JUST ATE YOUR MOTHERFUCKING MEAT MIDGETS [and copious amounts of semen]! BETTER BUY A BLACK DRESS! YA' KNOW? TO WEAR TO YOUR KID'S STUPID FUNERAL!! MOOOHOOOHOOHAHAHAHA CUZ YOU JUST FUCKIN ATE HIM [and copious amounts of semen]!!! HE'S INSIDE YOU [with copious amounts of semen]! Hahahaha WHOOO! Now that's good stuff! Bwoi, I tell you what! Alright then...You dumb bitches have a good day. Good stuff." (chuckles to self)<br />
<br />
>>>(scene/fantasy ends.)<<<<yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3102216433738260834.post-81924530504006582922011-07-18T17:58:00.000-07:002012-01-10T12:27:19.440-08:00"An Exerpt Of Unwritten Fiction" ~by Adam Q. Montgomery Smith<div class="mbl notesBlogText clearfix">
<div>
His birthday was tomorrow and no matter how deep he dug, he couldn't seem to find a single emotion to help him figure how he felt about this. Nothing. A trait that had followed him for as long as he could remember. A trait pointed out to him by others as a weakness. He felt nothing for this either. He always found that he was gifted with his lack of emotion. He found it to be more of a strength. No sissy cry-baby nonsense ever held him back from his day-to-day. Nope. Whatever. Fuck 'em all. What did they know anyway? He wondered when the last time he had any kind of emotional outburst even was. Nothing. Tomorrow was the dawning of a new year though. "What's the fuckin difference?" he quietly thought to himself through a wrinkled brow upon his seemingly focused stare as he gazed out over the courtyard from the edge of his third floor balcony, stale flavored smoke slowly trickling up his face from the corners of his mouth, fingers unconsciously fiddling the semi-hard erection through the hole in the pocket of his old jeans. The same pair of jeans he had kept over the years as a reminder of his own inner strength. A reminder of the bad habits of yesteryear that he had kicked all by himself long ago. No lame ass meetings for this guy. Fuck no. Meetings are for emotional homos anyway. He sure did miss that lifestyle though. Boy, did he miss it. The excitement of that high always had a way of helping him get in touch with those evasive emotions of his. Those same emotions that people yelled at him for not having now. That same high that people looked down on him for having then. What's worse? Having people look down on you for doing what you want to do, or having them yell at you for doing what you think they want of you incorrectly? It didn't matter. He didn't want to go back to that sick and sordid past of his, but this snail's pace present didn't seem anymore intriguing. <br />
Not even in the face of death itself could he bring himself to feel a twisted look of sadness or even muster up a single tear. Fuck it. "Aah, what's the fuckin' use anyway?" he muttered out loud to himself as he loosened the knot and removed the 50-foot safety-orange extension cord from his neck. Not today. Not in front of all these neighbors. It was bad enough that he had been secretly fondling his penis just a few yards above a bunch of kids playing in the courtyard. He didn't need to interrupt their games with offing himself. Not today. He may not feel emotions, but he still knows the difference between right & wrong. Not gonna traumatize any kids today. No, sir. Not today. Might as well go inside, ruin another Hot Pocket, draw the shades, and finish off this semi alone in the dark. Best to whack this groundhog while it's seein' its shadow anyhow. Could be 6 more weeks before another bloom. Best to appreciate little things when opportunity erects itself. Doesn't happen like it used to. Besides, what else is an almost 30 year-old emotionless dildo salesman gonna do on the day before his birthday? Suicide's for emotional homos anyway.<br />
<br />
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<iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B001UI3FM6&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0764301969&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><iframe align="left" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thrararaofare-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B004TTNC4O&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: left; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></div>
</div>yeeahhbuddiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16606820928899938492noreply@blogger.com0