Sometimes people just go crazy and they don't feel so good. Or gravity stops working for just a tiny second and all the cars go flying up into the air like rising stars. But you don't care because you not watching. Hopefully one doesn't fall and take you down, six underground, bring you closer to god.
I navigate imaginary mine fields. God show me the way. You may think the whole world has gone crazy but in truth and in fact, it has always been crazy. The difference now is that all you have to do is turn on the tv and you get a fresh cup of crazy brought right into the safety of your home. Like pizza. Everybody is trying to "OUT-CRAZY" everybody else. The last time I visited Iraq (on my television) it seemed really crazy but the tour guides (on my television) seem to think that it was way more CRAZIER last year. So the craziness of the world at anyone point is dependent on what channel your watching and the size of your tv. On a small television it looks really crazy. Get a bigger tele.
I've done that a couple of times. I don't know, maybe the thrill of the chase gets lost after the first date. The urge to continue the pursuit is over shadowed by more profitable interests, monkeys and little packets of ketchup. The stock market takes a dive. Sometimes your just not in "go" mode and you just fall a sleep and by the time you realise it your late for work. Our destiny is set.
Island Spice commented: My feet hurt. I wore these high heels to make my legs look long. You parked a mile downhill from the party. You could have dropped me off. Thank goodness for vodka. Makes me forget what a dolt you are. Another screwdriver please, as I drain my plastic cup and my heels sink into the lawn. I wish this night would end. In the car you are suddenly affectionate. Your breath stinks of rum. I concentrate on my hands in my lap. Counting the seconds till I get home. Our destiny is set. ... read 7 more
I was never one to snore in my sleep until the company gave us shirts to wear to work. I was really digging the polo shirt and khakis look. But now my world has been turned on its head. I feel like a woman with really curvaceous breasts. Not overly large, exposed or a mother thats nursing a new born but "just right". Right enough that you want to take them in your hands and talk to them as if they were your very own children. A child that you were told to bring up good and proper. More like twins or 2 children born really close to each other. So close that you would think they are twins. Children that, in case you fail to take over the world take the reins. All is not lost though, for I have grown rather attached. All I can say is beware of the coconut water that comes in a can. It is awful. Really awful. The creative part of my brain could not come up with alternate universe in which I could enjoy the taste of matter that was ejected from the stomach through the mouth of a child (or monkey) in Indonesia. God only knows. But back to the subject at breast (or at heart as normal people would say), I now know how it feels when everybody you meet glances down at her chest area. In my case they glance down to the cleverly designed company logo print and try to decipher which company it belongs to. Everybody is doing it now, its like falling in love all over again. All the "HIP" companies brand their employees - just in case they get lost. Lost in transit. All I need now is a "if found call 555-5555" printed across my back.
I often listen to my neighbors arguing and wonder how in the world those 2 got together. I have never seen him or her before, as our houses opposed each other. Opposed, not in a Shakespearian way but physically, with the added benefit of a dividing wall. It seems that when all the fun and games are over, what remains are two lost souls trapped in a house together opposed. Opposed, not in a Shakespearian way but mentally. I guess it has always been in the back of my head. The visible realization that relationships involve drama. It gives women something that video games and chocolate ice cream can't - something to feel strongly about.
On sunday she will usually argue with him about going to church. Obviously he has never been to church but she has taken it upon her self to nag away at his very soul. In the hope that eventually he will become what she hoped him to be - perfect. I have never known her. Known, not in a Shakespearian way but visually with my eyes. Only a glimpse of her over the high concrete wall as she hangs out clothes to dry in the mid-day sun. The child cries too much, annoyingly, in a high pitched squeal. I have never heard a baby cry so much before, it is as if it never sleeps. I suppose it is a matter of time before I am the one on the other side of the fence. Not, crying for some tit but arguing with it incessantly. Continuing without pause or interruption over minor details.
Sooner or later the ties that bind are not enough to keep them from driving each other crazy. Rabid, monkey crazy. It just so happens that they argue on saturday mornings when I'm home ( relaxing and diligently cleaning years of accumulated dust ). On one occasion I was tempted to call CSI Jamaica but eventually they calmed down. So now he starts throwing her stuff outside. It won't last until next week surely after all the shouting and crying that went on. She is carefully packing up he belongings from what I hear and he is helping against her wishes. I should have rigged the house with cameras on wednesday but over slept. Intermittently during the packing the argument starts up again. Another one bites the dust.
I've had another one of those crazy weeks once again. Rabid monkey crazy. I may be the first person that's ever pointed this out to you, so it might sound a little strange. Or, I might be reminding you of something you already know. In any event, it seems that, just when you thought the world was going to come to a bitter and fiery end, somebody goes and gets themselves killed by a stingray. If there is one thing that puts life into perspective its the fact that any little random, boring creature can accidentally mess you up in a way which is undesirable. Yet I feel as though a very pale english princess has died all over again - which is strange for me.
I may have mentioned before that I miss the country and the lack of undercover prostitutes but I'm not bitter at all. No, I am a man of many seasons, I'm sweet as morning dew. But yeah finally I don't have internet at my house anymore so I can go back to thinking. Instead of browsing Hi5 like a deranged monkey I can get back to RL. I think it is the endlessness of it which makes me enthusiastically devoted to it and is sapping my creativity slash brain space. It feels good to be back. Back among the living, IRL.
My internet access got disconnected because my nephew wasn't here to pay it to the place. A PLACE WHICH I KNOW NOT OF. Can you believe the embarrassment I had to endure as I went to the local mall to queue up with the common mortals to use internet. I could feel my brain cells dissipating as the lady beside me asked me why her over sized flash drive wasn't working. Hit me like a hammer to my head. Apparently she had carefully jammed it into the front USB port at a vicious angle. I did what I was there to do and got out before I was tempted to ask the receptionist for a Job. I walked around a bit. Bought a light cranberry juice at the pharmacy - its all they had. It was made in the USA and I felt bad for buying a foreign product. I also hate people that liter. I hate them with a vengeance.
taylor commented: lol.. your week is nothing compared to mine.. i have been communicating by pda for a entire month no pc access no uplink to the matrix but for a qtek 9090 but it all ends tomorrow the revolution will be at 5pm when i pick up my cheque and go cash it to pick up my brand new stellar dellar..
its really ironic how steve went btw a sting ray.. wow...
haha your the new mall man you prowl the mall in search of intarweb acess your totally demoted owen.. you need to report to the joint for denoobification asap. ... read 1 more
I spent most of saturday afternoon chatting with the local runway model on my veranda. A veranda which was dirty from rains of the previous week. I had not the chance to clean it. She promptly forced herself onto my to-do list. A list which I was already busily procrastinating over. She woke me up the second time from my mid-afternoon nap slash thinking time. We talked about life and random model stuff. She sat there talking, tall, dark with short nappy like sonic the hedgehog except not blue. She was bored at home. She had come over the previous week to she my nephew and check her email. Since he is not here I guess I got added to her short list of friends. Whom am I to refuse?
I tried my best to entertain her with whatever wit I could harness from the depths of my sole. I'm a good listener. We talked about her insecurities, aging, love, sex, trust, children, flat stomachs, her big goggly eyes and her sexy boobs. She is really proud of her breasts in a highly self-critical a way, like most self conscious model types. Breasts which hang from her chest like they were the source of life itself on a string, in ten dimensional space. Her defining feature, an arms length away, resting in her lose blouse, resting quietly. She dreams of traveling, likes caring for the elderly and would do anything for a man she truly loves. I wanted the rain to fall but it had seemed that she had chased the rain away. I sat there reiterating, trying to get under her skin, make the best of the time before her cellphone would ring again.
I seized the opportunity to run my hands through her hair, and held it firmly, dragging her head gently forward while she was about to leave, she wanted me to smell it but I refused - I just wanted to be playful - the hair was a safe bet. The chinese food was calling me. I was really hungry. The conversation had pretty much run down to a near standstill, plus I was really hungry. She doesn't cook either so she understood why I buy chicken fry rice, religiously every saturday like a monk. She is too much for me to handle maybe gods will favor me next week.
Mad Bull commented: How do you know she was too much? Sometimes we shortchange ourselves... You know, I have a bredrin who came home one day to find his sister's friend (she did well hot too) and she was alone in his house. After chatting with him for awhile, she took off her top (she didn't have on a bra), she lay down on the bed and she asked him to give her a massage and because he low-rated himself, he never "tapped that ass!". Still hasn't, in fact. No, the rude bwoy gave her a massage and that was it! He didn't even try anything! Crazy mofo! If that was me, well, is either I would have gotten a RA$$ box or I would have gotten some hot punaany, but I know I would have gotten something that day! Don't be like my friend... be like me. Go for it! ... read 5 more