early thanks giving

as a complete surprise goes, this would definitely be in the "complete" file. my daughter showed up today! she and i haven't scene each other since the fall of the Berlin Wall. Not to sidetrack, but she blamed this on me.

is a little too early to tell, but i feel like she still re-sents me for this.

let's hope i'm wrong!

i hope you all have a great time stuffing your gorge for the National Holiday.

so diss a pointed

i guess parochial school is as parochial school does evywhere. i've had the idea and a notion that i'm spose to be/get in/to australia/new zealand for some time. it is beautiful and they are laid back. then this guhhh -

Schoolgirl suspended for cancer head shave

close curtain call

her eyes smelled like raisins marinated in piss. i knew something was a foot. i shoved my locator probe up her ass and she yelped a dollop of barf.

i luved her and owl, but this was owl getting to be a bit munch.

the probe stated immediate bail trailing results. i galloped out of the room smelling as hard as i could thinking "surely somewhere in here is there something that must be a close facsimile of beat smell."

i spotted Terrick's "Fisher's Pride Onion Deep" sitting on the table from the night before. i was sweaty, but i knew that it's funk lay in it's king fung flake.

i hurriedly crab crawled bag into the board room and smathered some of the crumple up thawts on her thigh eyes. she moaned and cooed like a shellfisch chylde being sent outside for mono gliding with an accordion butler pump.

i put her back in her nutshell and called it a knight by jaggin my awful to a picture of johnny mccain's wifey.

the olde way

i've never been a "funk" fan. do not get me wrong, i love some here and there songs that were done by different people here and there, back in the seventies, but i hate the term. it connotes white boys trying to be something they are not.

i remember a nite in 1986 and going to see one of the few black bands that i liked, mothers finest, out of atlanta. i liked them because they rocked hard, the funk. and the girl was amazing. up on stage she was an ebony queen. all of this was compacted by the point that i was hopped up on some heavy exctasy pills.

i had a wonderful time and have the scars to prove it. my old friend alan hasty could tell of the night, but he is now dead. r.i.p.

the venue was flaming sally's, and this was back in a in-between period of macon having a live music scene.

it was great. that night and i loved it all.

i want to talk about all of this some more. so, i'm going to later.

here are some hear

piece

baby love

t'was clear at that pointe

The fresh entries had created quite the stir. It was up to Sorely to do due diligence on the new private treaties. He was excited, but i could sense that he was nervous with his new station and prominence. The track lady showed up on time and showed us the new moves. she was beautiful and sensual as owl hell, but very straight forward and proffesional, never letting the conversation veer into non treaty talks.

I felt like going out back and geneflecting on the new developments, and also letting Sorely feel the full on of his new position. It was also a way to pressure test him.

I was amazed to be stopped on my way out by Campho Phinique who was on land to promote for Maine. He was contrite and eggs pressed his desire to leave our past litigation behind and work with me on the Maine Compacts.

It was own

i could smell her feet, so i knew she was on the many-bike. We had broken the treaty with Philly two months earlier, and her looks and feminine charm had softened the blow. The repercussion, when, and if, they came would be lighter thanks to her odor beats. 

The whole area had changed. It was now a comppound of salad and lost souls. People that were yearning and starting to believe. The soil was moist with punks and certs. Janis Joplin was dreaming up on the side stage and Eddie Money was wondering what we were doing thursday night from the Maine stage. Crew members from the Maine Progress Committe were giving out samples of crab, lobster and spears.

the moist and terrible runk

It felt so horribly corporate, but the weather dictated the decision. I know that Sorrel and Trent would be miffed but, WTF, we had to break the stalemate. After two months of nothing but cologne and sportswear, we had to be open minded. For roughly thirty thousand, we would forget about the struggle. Perry had to go.