You can totally flip off kids...

I'm transferring some older blogs from my myspace account before I delete it. Enjoy this golden oldie, originally posted 10/8/06:

On our way to Chevy's for lunch (we were pay-day rich) Matt and I got stuck behind a school bus.  There was a kid staring at us out the back window holding his hand up in a peace sign.
Naturally, we gave him peace signs back.  We smiled, we made faces, we said hello, he just stared at us.  It was the most coerced-looking offering of peace I've seen since I last attended a Catholic church.

"Maybe I should flip him off," I said.

"NO!  Don't do that," Matt scolded me.

"You're right; there's probably a cop around anyway.  I'd get pulled over."

"No, that's not it.  You can TOTALLY flip off kids if you want to.  It's not illegal; it just makes you a dick."

"Did you hear what you just fucking said?  'Yeah, you can TOTALLY flip off little kids!'"


Eventually I had to change lanes and as I moved to the left lane on the side of the bus I notice the kid's expression didn't change.  He was frozen in his half-hearted peace offering.

"I don't even think that kid was looking at us."

"Oh, then you totally should've flipped him off.  He's probably autistic.  He would've counted the hairs on your hand, but he wouldn't have known what a middle finger means."


Chinese Food Must Be Great For Your Tits

I'm transferring some older blogs from my myspace account before I delete it. Enjoy this golden oldie, originally posted 10/4/06:

Oh, girl at the Chinese Buffet Matt and I visit way too often, why are you always there?  Surely your lot in life is not as miserable as ours; surely you are not forced to dine on MSG-laden starches and overfried mystery meat available in large quantities for a mere $6.65.  And yet, there you are.  Every single time.

You never eat off plates.  You instead pile small, downright RATIONAL portions into bowl after bowl.  First soup.  Then some random breaded meat (maybe chicken, maybe pork, maybe Honduran National).  Then you start on those weird Chinese doughnuts.  I can never bring myself to eat even one, and yet today you piled away six that I noticed.

You're not fat, as your diet might lead one to believe.  In fact your body is rather attractive.  Particularly the gravity-defying tits you flaunt like it's your job.  Who wears low-cut boob shirts to a Chinese buffet?  You do, my little eggroll-sucking slut. 

Confucious say "Girl showing cleavage at buffet has more than crab rangoon on chin."

We could go on dates to various Chinese buffets.  I would watch you down pot stickers, General Tso's Chicken and the like.  Later you would down Captain Cleveland's Cream of Sum Yung Guy.  I would read you your fortune:  "Good things come to those who dip nipples in Sweet & Sour sauce."  One night, perhaps an anniversary or birthday, I would go all out and take you to Olive Garden.  You would be floored at the ambiance, the food, and the lack of steamer trays.  You would fall for me, and we would live in gluttonous, glorious love for all of time.

You're not attractive in the face area though.  It's unfortunate, too.  Good body, AMAZING tits (have I mentioned this?) an obvious affinity for shitty food that leads me to believe you'd be easily impressed; you could almost be the perfect girl.  But you're not.  And therefore your only use to me is so I can stare at your cleavage through the sneeze guard while you're on the other side of the steamer trays. 

Thanks all the same.