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MajandraFan |
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Thursday, June 1, 2006 at 9:58 AM The nighttime ritual of hash. The first thing he does is to execute the dreams he had for the day. It is too late, nothing will get done today.
The next thing is to stand up and rub the cigar ashes off the belly of his dressing gown. There is a pile of ash in front of his television four feet deep.
The third thing is to go to his bathroom and attempt to shave. After the shakes give him some nasty slices, he gives up and tries to stop any of his beard hairs growing underneath last night's scabs.
Before he leaves the bathroom he laments his rotting teeth and bleeding gums, and wonders why he is unable to stop eating refined sugar. Some tears loosen the crinkles under his eyes.
He stops off on his way to the bedroom to take one of the pornographic magazines from the stand in the hallway. He does not know who keeps the stock of magazines fresh and plentiful, for his doors are always locked and closed. Tonight's magazine has the word 'sybian' in the title.
Inside his bedroom he lights the citronella candle on his bedside table in a vain effort to keep the breeding cockroaches from coming into his room in the deep night and feeding on the pools of bodily refuse that dot his bedroom floor.
The seventh thing is indeed lucky: he takes out the bolt from his genitals and places it serenely into the velvet cushion that lies at the centre of his hope chest. He locks the hope chest safely for another night. His millenia journal lies dusty and long untouched in a corner of the chest.
The eighth thing of his routine is to remove his dressing gown and crawl underneath his doona. His flannel pyjamas grin cheerfully at him with patterns of yellow and green ducks floating alongside lilypads of frogs. Swallows circle high above, looking for a way back to their blue willow pattern.
The ninth thing is to read the magazine from cover to cover, including all publishing and barcode information. Thankfully he is a speed reader. 40 minutes later he frisbees the magazine against a corner of his darkening room as the citronella fumes consume his airways.
The second last thing he does is to give a silent curse unto God for making life such a miserable eternity.
He passes out.  —MajandraFan |
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hash |
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Thursday, June 1, 2006 at 10:52 AM Damn skippy. —hash |
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Mahalo |
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Thursday, June 1, 2006 at 7:10 PM Vanessa Lengies is absolutely titillating in "Stick It!"; Jeff Bridges must have felt like such a pervert, but an oh-so-lucky one. The Eurasian mix is overrated compared to a Middle Eastern ethnicity being cut with whitey. Some don't dig the majestic nose, but sweet Vanessa will be dead to me if she ever shaves that sexy beak. —Mahalo |
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mikeyfish |
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Friday, June 2, 2006 at 8:55 AM That girl reminds me of ABM. Or the other way around. —mikeyfish |
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MajandraFan |
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Friday, June 2, 2006 at 11:53 AM ~~~~~~~~~~~~lots and lots of images of vanessa lengies, floating around your visage~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ —MajandraFan |
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