Tuesday, January 4, 2011

#58 Exercise

I went running this morning and this was all I could think about:

The Wonder Years - cw

If I met Kevin Arnold in an airport all those years later and he brought his kids and new wife, I would say who is this bitch, who are these little rats, get rid of them, you made a promise.  I would feel proud, then sad.  I have no self-control after a long flight.

Middle School Much Later - cw

As a prank I challenged the guy my new friend didn’t like much to a miniature pickle-eating contest.  In two minutes, I ate twenty-seven miniature pickles.  The poor guy lost, but thought he won.  He ate forty-two miniature pickles in five minutes.  My new friend kept time for both of us, but didn’t tell the guy when his time was up, just let him eat pickle after pickle, and that must have been how I knew he was my new friend.   

Here’s How We’ll Do This…  - cw

If we are going to do this together you’re going to need to tie yourself to me and me to you and if you’re going to tie yourself to me you’re going to need a good length of rope, a significant length of rope, because I cannot stand to be near you right now or most of the time for that matter so we’ll start with a good length of rope and go on together from there.

We Are Fighting All The Time Where We Are Living Now  - cw

It is not hot enough in hell to stand the sound of the AC.  It is not loud enough in this shit town to bear the discomfort of sleeping in headphones.  Tickling is not fun enough to warrant cleaning up your urine.  Baths are not relaxing enough to put up with an hour of bent knees and foot-to-crotch or ass-to-crotch.  If you pee on my foot, my leg, my waist, my blanket, one more time, I will sleep in garbage bags and you will pee only on yourself and have only my shape to hold and nothing more.  If you like this, I will suffocate.  The euphoria of suffocation will not be enough to make the whole thing worth it in its absence, but I will still do it.  If I am stiff and strict to my shape and you like this, you will have to put up with my garbage-bag-rot-body stench.  In death too, we'll compromise. 


So there's that.

What is wrong with me...

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