Archive for April, 2001:

Friendly People

I’ve never understood how people can make friends with waitresses, or flight attendents, or people in professions like that. It’s not that I’m against those people, I really don’t understand how they do it. I can’t think of any place where the people even know my name. I’ve read that when meeting new people you should ask questions about them that will open new lines of dialogue, not a yes/no question, but I can never think of anything relevant. Online I can just bust into a channel and say, “The eels that live in my pants told me to hang out here.” A line like that not only breaks the ice, it gives people a topic to talk to you about. But something like that doesn’t work in real life. People just avoid you, just whisper and point. “Thats the guy who thinks eels live in his pants. I don’t know if they do, you go find out.” Maybe nobody befriends waitresses and flight attendents and coffee people. Maybe its just a hoax perpetrated by fiction. Maybe it is the last great myth of our age.

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Fitzgerald

Everybody go read this story. It is hilarious.

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Short Stories

Do any of you cool people know a good place on the web to read short stories? Good ones? For free? A superficial search has turned up nothing.

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Crazy

Does the spider trapped in anybody else’s ear keep telling them to construct a working prototype of a semi-automatic hard boiled egg rifle and sell it to Cheech Marin so he can break the bonds of Don Johnson’s love slavery? Maybe its just me.

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I am become Yoko, shatterer of cool

This is not where it’s at. I am not all that and a bag of chips, you do not rock my world. There will be no sharing, no caring; I need no nurturing, you will get no feedback, there will be no growth period, because this is not a learning experience. There are no ribbons, hats, pins, or shirts. There will be no catch phrases. There are no cans of whoop ass to be opened. There will be no boycott against gas prices, no chain letters to help a kid with cancer, no touching stories about drunk driving. You did not hear that. I will not think of the children, nor will I do anything for them. I am not tres faboo, you are not tres chic, and that is not tres outta sight. This is not the first day of the rest of our lives. This is not what it is. There will be no closure.

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