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“WTF, MAN?”
Download The Expendables — Bowl for Two
(I can imagine Robbie rolling his eyes for this song.)
We were driving up to Fremont for the ultimate shopping adventure ever.
My feet were on Shirl’s dashboard and I was obsessively wiggling my bright red toes: “You know what? I think stupidity should be a sin.”
She laughs.
“Yeah .. because most of my kids would go to hell. And not the good part either .. the bad part where all the lawyers are.”
“.. oh Stella …”
This is her way of nicely saying, “Dude, what the fuck?”
And not just any “WTF”, it’s “What. The. Fuck.”, where the last word is nicely ennunciated–the same way Ozzie says it when he sees lingerie sitting in Shirley’s car and the same way Alix says it after finding steak in her veggie burrito/hearing about the white trash with the 56 stars tatted on her face–to hint that my nasty comments are another segment of this very, very amazing summer.
Camping this weekend .. I’m so excited, my toes are wigglin’ again.
P.S. Megan, if you see this — I want to borrow Alan’s Safari jacket. :)
A love story
“I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing.”
(Anais Nin)
We see each other on the streets. We’re of all ages, of all races, of all lifestyles. But we have this quiet, filthy understanding.
It’s almost as if we’re a part of this secret society. We all know how lovely it is, how comforting it is, how–for lack of a better word–addicting. It curls up between our lips, wraps us around with a seductive finger, and levels out every joy, sadness, pain, happiness, stress, fear. We’re weak. Suckers for the easy way out, right? We’re not. We know the dangers, don’t we? So are we or are we not?
Is it a form of validation? To be apart of this deep, dark secret? Or is it simply what it all began for the most of us– a way for us to run away, a way for us to find consistency in our lives, a way to fit in, a way for karma to ironically repay us?
I always said that I couldn’t imagine living a day over 30 anyways.
Bring it on, with a cup of Joe. It’s all good, motheryuckahs. All good.