Wednesday, January 21, 2004
Alright. So SDL used to do stupid stuff in our shows, mainly in the middle of the song Benzoate, because...
A. We are born showmen.
B. It allowed us the chance for biting social satire.
C. We weren't good enough musicians to write songs that would hold your attention without resorting to cheap gimmicks.
Thus the apple eating contest.
I know. Bobby already posted this, but it was in black and white. It could not be made out that the apples in said apple eating contest were red, which makes thing so much more difficult. Actually, they didn't taste too bad. The problem is that when you manage to get about 8 apples into your mouth in about 40 seconds it is hard to hold back your gag reflex. Quite a few times it felt like I was going to pass out. I keep thinking of those dead birds in Cane Toads found with toads halfway down their throats.
So I don't have a girlfriend. I know, all of you out there are like "Tell me something I don't know." If I did I think I might have to stop making out with Smaug.
Maybe I should anyway. She was sick and threw up like three times tonight. I should at least find someone to give me health insurance if I keep doin' it. Or I should get a girlfriend to talk some sence into me.
I am HM
(Reader Discretion is Advised)
So I was in the Express Men the other day. Winter Clearance. Lots of cheap pants. So I find a pair of somewhat nice looking black pants. I go to try them on. They fit fine in the hips, legs, and butt but somehow manage to be tight across the front. I then look in the mirror and my suspicions are confirmed. Not only were they tight in the front, but they were tight enough that I could actually make out the shape of my penis. And not just a lump mind you, but I could make out the shape of the head and the line of demarcation between it and the shaft. I did not buy said pants, but I did buy two other pairs of pants and another shirt at Abercrombie. I know, lampy. Anyway, I think I have just shot myself in the foot in this HM war we’ve got goin’ on.
Lampy.
A. We are born showmen.
B. It allowed us the chance for biting social satire.
C. We weren't good enough musicians to write songs that would hold your attention without resorting to cheap gimmicks.
Thus the apple eating contest.
I know. Bobby already posted this, but it was in black and white. It could not be made out that the apples in said apple eating contest were red, which makes thing so much more difficult. Actually, they didn't taste too bad. The problem is that when you manage to get about 8 apples into your mouth in about 40 seconds it is hard to hold back your gag reflex. Quite a few times it felt like I was going to pass out. I keep thinking of those dead birds in Cane Toads found with toads halfway down their throats.
So I don't have a girlfriend. I know, all of you out there are like "Tell me something I don't know." If I did I think I might have to stop making out with Smaug.
Maybe I should anyway. She was sick and threw up like three times tonight. I should at least find someone to give me health insurance if I keep doin' it. Or I should get a girlfriend to talk some sence into me.
I am HM
(Reader Discretion is Advised)
So I was in the Express Men the other day. Winter Clearance. Lots of cheap pants. So I find a pair of somewhat nice looking black pants. I go to try them on. They fit fine in the hips, legs, and butt but somehow manage to be tight across the front. I then look in the mirror and my suspicions are confirmed. Not only were they tight in the front, but they were tight enough that I could actually make out the shape of my penis. And not just a lump mind you, but I could make out the shape of the head and the line of demarcation between it and the shaft. I did not buy said pants, but I did buy two other pairs of pants and another shirt at Abercrombie. I know, lampy. Anyway, I think I have just shot myself in the foot in this HM war we’ve got goin’ on.
Lampy.