In honor of George’s birthday I am going to be brief. I know that doesn’t really make much sense but I had an incredibly long day and don’t have much to say. I am supposed to be sitting in the heat at this very moment listening to Los Lobos with Sammy and Sissy. I lost the 3 other people that were supposed to go with me and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit, sweat, drink, and then drive back from Ravinia by myself. So here I sit, typing with nothing to say but fulfilling my obligation. I’ll leave you with a bit of free-form poetry.
The sun on my fat smells like bacon,
Bald heads never stop sweating,
Thinking cool thoughts is giving me a headache,
Nothing smells good when it’s humid,
I love the person who invented air-conditioning.
12:00:00 AM 
|
|
