The ballroom gown of America is attached to the body of a seventeen year old emo kid.
He backs up against the wall of the high school dance and takes pictures with a digital camera.
All the girls at the dance are wondering if there will be any food at the punch table.
The boys let the cosmic energy of Lil Wayne dismantle the preconceptions of their Gillette Mach 3 Razor lives.
Cinched at odd places around the boys bodice, the ballroom gown of America sheds sequins
all over the floor. Hell. It looks to me like the designer couldn't stitch worth shit, and, if you
ask me, and you should, about which anchor department store would have been a better alternative,
I would have said Dillards. Dillards, dammit! They have a return policy, and besides, what is the point of sales associates?
Sometimes, all the stores at the mall pay each other to stay open. This is coopetition. Other times, they
are too serious-faced to make any genuine contributions to the plight of the new American city.
I am looking into the face of the kid who wore a dress to the school dance. Too much makeup.
Oh hell, way too much makeup. And his knees are skinned. I wonder if he plays basketball in his driveway.
Have you ever driven past a neighborhood and seen the phrase "an adult community" qualifying its residents?
Or wondered who lived in all the small houses on the east side? Here's a hint for you: It isn't as cold in the winter
as some people would like for you to believe, and yes, there is a market for silver artificial Christmas trees, but mostly
the people who are into that sort of stuff have already poured a fifth of Everclear into the lemonade tank at Chick-fil-A, hoping it will catch fire.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
i read 'petrarch on chaucer' as a dirty title. i'm not sure if i was supposed to.
when i worked at chick-fil-a my favorite thing to do was chop lemons in half. my least favorite thing to do was take those lemon halves and press them hard into a metal juicer that was kind of broken.
ian i will holla about budapest here. make sure you drink as much unicum as possible. that sounds dirty but it's not. unicum is like the national liquor. it tastes like tree bark and some sort of household cleaner but you'll learn to love it.
go to frank zappa cafe and order a 'giraffe's head' of beer. eat a lot of falafels from rundown stands. go to the mcdonalds that is supposedly the most beautiful one in the world. go to margit island. definitely hit up the public baths.
if i think of more i'll let you know.
daniel you read this right. it is all dirty.
unicum? alright. that sounds interesting, like absinthe with all of the pain and none of the hallucinations.
frank zappa cafe? how the fuck will i find the frank zappa cafe? are the eastern europeans obsessed with frank zappa for some reason. i read in my shitty old guidebook that there is a statue of frank zappa in lithuania.
beautiful mcdonalds sounds good.
ok thanks and tell me more too.
Post a Comment