An ongoing evolutionary collaborative free-range Atkin's friendly, wardrobe malfunction-free, literary blog. Tastes like chicken, smells like pennies, thinks like Sloths. Hand me your cash, we need an editor.
Chapter one
Gawk: Fun sloppy emotional baggage combined to the sweaty boob fart laffing and mutual orgasmic love juice never seemed to be enough. I was searching for a good brain fuck. So, I popped open a can of RedBull, scratched an itch under my bra,
cocked sideways and farted exhaust from the kung pow chicken and...
Shirl: then logged onto the 'net' ending up at a website with recipes for Open-faced Prairie Dog Loaf. I grabbed another beer, lit a cig, and adjusted my bra strap. The doorbell rang, and my beer tipped over onto the keyboard as I scrambled up out of my chair.
Gawk: I yelled to my innerself, "Oh fucking dry camel toe!, Time to stop smoking and answer the door". Who the heck is it? Probably the devil reposessing my soul or looking for a refund for a warranty void. Damn dogmatic breach of contract. This must be horrific karma knocking on my door. I decided to do the magic trick of taking off my bra without taking off my shirt (always amazed boys)..tossed into the washing machine on the way to the door. I gingerly squeezed the doorknob like a cheap hand job, turned it and heard the lock unclick. This man stood there...
Shirl: wearing a Depends Diaper and looking confused. I asked him in and offered him my last beer. He stumbled in the doorway and took a seat on the rocking chair and began rocking while gulping the beer like there was no tomorrow. I asked him if there was anything I could do for him and he asked if I had a spare diaper.
Gawk: This poor guy was from across the street - misplaced. There is this semi-halfway house of sorts across the street where a mish mash of elderly misanthropes reside funded there by the generosity of churches and sometimes a corporate grouping. It's amazing how greedy corporate sponsors can be to spend millions in development of research to find tax exemptions to hide crap. At least there is funding...an incentive. I have gotten so used to Fred getting lost and such for the past 5 years..I keep a spare box of Depends in the linen closet of my one bedroom apartment.
Shirl: I felt badly about the situation. I turned off the computer and threw old Fred a smoking jacket.
I opened a can of pork and beans and stuck the individual beans on toothpicks and we ate them as hors d'oeuvres. The Open-Faced Prairie Dog Loaf was coming up next. Old Fred went out to the road and found a fresh roadkill of gopher and brought it back into the house. We sat long and stared hard at it.
Gawk: I was being self conscious as to my lesbian figure - I needed a diversion to this non-Atkin's friendly culinary suprise. I was hankering for a fricken McDonalds Adult "Active Meal" - one of those rare responses to health food crisis meals....It was a Cob Salad with a Dasante water..and the fricken happy meal prise was a shitty Pedometer. Why would I need a pedometer to walk to McDonalds?.....So after I glarfed down that sad corporate food brick..I was satisfied enuff to...
Shirl: walk away from the drive-through, people stared at me like, "why is that dyke walking through the drive-through?". Man, I had forgotten my car whilst whining and delving into the pros and cons of the need or lack of a pedometer. Now, it seems it would have been an interesting item as I walked to my next destination to....
Gawk: Take a walk. I need to walk, my doctor has told me that my blood presure was enourmous, but in regulation. So I decided to take a walk. Stretch my legs. I wish my third leg could take a walk. Priorities first. To appease my other legs. So I decided to walk to Chinatown - I could sense a cultural transformation of everything with the senses - olfactory and other. This was my place to feel marginalized. An outsider. Like how Canadians feel in Sri Lanka, not that they have "native" food. When is the last time you ever went to a Canadian Restaraunt? So while troloping through Chinatown, I discovered...
Shirl: some kittens stuffed in a bird-cage outside the backdoor of a restaurant. As I viewed closer, there were more stuffed in a burlap sack, wriggling and meowing. Just then, a man appeared from the door of the kitchen and swiped the cage and sack up in his arms and back inside he went. I was appalled. I decided to investigate further.
(To be continued)
Gawk: Fun sloppy emotional baggage combined to the sweaty boob fart laffing and mutual orgasmic love juice never seemed to be enough. I was searching for a good brain fuck. So, I popped open a can of RedBull, scratched an itch under my bra,
cocked sideways and farted exhaust from the kung pow chicken and...
Shirl: then logged onto the 'net' ending up at a website with recipes for Open-faced Prairie Dog Loaf. I grabbed another beer, lit a cig, and adjusted my bra strap. The doorbell rang, and my beer tipped over onto the keyboard as I scrambled up out of my chair.
Gawk: I yelled to my innerself, "Oh fucking dry camel toe!, Time to stop smoking and answer the door". Who the heck is it? Probably the devil reposessing my soul or looking for a refund for a warranty void. Damn dogmatic breach of contract. This must be horrific karma knocking on my door. I decided to do the magic trick of taking off my bra without taking off my shirt (always amazed boys)..tossed into the washing machine on the way to the door. I gingerly squeezed the doorknob like a cheap hand job, turned it and heard the lock unclick. This man stood there...
Shirl: wearing a Depends Diaper and looking confused. I asked him in and offered him my last beer. He stumbled in the doorway and took a seat on the rocking chair and began rocking while gulping the beer like there was no tomorrow. I asked him if there was anything I could do for him and he asked if I had a spare diaper.
Gawk: This poor guy was from across the street - misplaced. There is this semi-halfway house of sorts across the street where a mish mash of elderly misanthropes reside funded there by the generosity of churches and sometimes a corporate grouping. It's amazing how greedy corporate sponsors can be to spend millions in development of research to find tax exemptions to hide crap. At least there is funding...an incentive. I have gotten so used to Fred getting lost and such for the past 5 years..I keep a spare box of Depends in the linen closet of my one bedroom apartment.
Shirl: I felt badly about the situation. I turned off the computer and threw old Fred a smoking jacket.
I opened a can of pork and beans and stuck the individual beans on toothpicks and we ate them as hors d'oeuvres. The Open-Faced Prairie Dog Loaf was coming up next. Old Fred went out to the road and found a fresh roadkill of gopher and brought it back into the house. We sat long and stared hard at it.
Gawk: I was being self conscious as to my lesbian figure - I needed a diversion to this non-Atkin's friendly culinary suprise. I was hankering for a fricken McDonalds Adult "Active Meal" - one of those rare responses to health food crisis meals....It was a Cob Salad with a Dasante water..and the fricken happy meal prise was a shitty Pedometer. Why would I need a pedometer to walk to McDonalds?.....So after I glarfed down that sad corporate food brick..I was satisfied enuff to...
Shirl: walk away from the drive-through, people stared at me like, "why is that dyke walking through the drive-through?". Man, I had forgotten my car whilst whining and delving into the pros and cons of the need or lack of a pedometer. Now, it seems it would have been an interesting item as I walked to my next destination to....
Gawk: Take a walk. I need to walk, my doctor has told me that my blood presure was enourmous, but in regulation. So I decided to take a walk. Stretch my legs. I wish my third leg could take a walk. Priorities first. To appease my other legs. So I decided to walk to Chinatown - I could sense a cultural transformation of everything with the senses - olfactory and other. This was my place to feel marginalized. An outsider. Like how Canadians feel in Sri Lanka, not that they have "native" food. When is the last time you ever went to a Canadian Restaraunt? So while troloping through Chinatown, I discovered...
Shirl: some kittens stuffed in a bird-cage outside the backdoor of a restaurant. As I viewed closer, there were more stuffed in a burlap sack, wriggling and meowing. Just then, a man appeared from the door of the kitchen and swiped the cage and sack up in his arms and back inside he went. I was appalled. I decided to investigate further.
(To be continued)
0 Responses to “”
Post a Comment