I sneeze several tmes berginning this post and I don't worry about the corrections....I was taught that you CORRECt them, but I'm not...this time.. I've been to the firehall meeting this past evening. I thought to catch up with my new friend afterward...the SHIFT SERGEANT...who apparently has two nice vehicles, one a SUBURBAN with which he hauls home every other weekend his 'travel trailer'...and I don't get that, he works for DOC, they do a 40-hour a week shift and he's getting every other weekend off to go to his home in Hoquiam...where I think, where I think...he probably has a wife and kiddos 'a 17 year old daughter' he says. I saw his preparations for leaving and there was an extensive collection of liquor bottles, a fresh case of wine...he does do that, he admits..DRINK TOO MUCH.
well...I suppose it's an occupational hazard, having been a military (ewess) sniper in Afghanistan. He has a look of one dumbfounded...speaks slowly...and his partner in crime, the eminent doofus, shuffle in...has had it all along, the Direct Operating System confusion syndrome...when you're in the cold war but that's supposedly long over. and you've come home again and you're not sure where you were, but they tell you the Sun Also Rises...like you do, and that you're still alive...even though you've taken care of good 'ol Assif's arse...and there's a woman sitting on the bar stool next to you who is available...but there's a pitcher of beer there too...and that looks pretty good.
So that's the common sense side of all of this, but there's another, there's the pretty much irritating factor that causes the creating of Ashton, Karin's at age 47...which I've figured out from my own point of view is the purpose of a gun by the name...if I'm smoking...and there is where the criticism of well I don't even know how to describe it but it's nothing to do with autoexecutor states or direct operating systems, it's the blatant subversion of them...like the car, the Sub burr BAN..and the fact the guy who lived in my house for nearly a year, had a kid there and never paid a dime of rent is now again living rent free in another house down the street and just got himself a Nuked 'r'...which I seen lookin' out da winda from the Ojeda place...and I hear he 'has lice'...hmmm. I'm a bit upset about it, of course...lookin' forward to my own relaxtion and recreation in another hour or so with the typical piece of meat I get handed that I never truly enjoy other than to know the intention is good...hehe
my neighbor from the other house is walking hand and hand with a new woman..a real pretty woman..and we're standing around looking at one another going 'what happened to Leanne'??
there was a Leanna in my class in high school here, she had teh same name as the electrical supply company in Port Angeles...go figure my house is ALWAYS cold...grousing...
we hit a grouse on the way back from town the day we carried the swingset to the other neighbors..the ones sent here directly from the 'green crow'...green cow..moss crowing moss on the roof...trying to be...getting really 'fat'..really fat..need to be in tops..
i LET out a deep breath..italics resists being changed up...I think about CUBA..and then there's the subtle threat at the meeting...I don't even say it was at the firehall..because 'that one' is big time in charge there...the fat green cow..really fat...really rub your face in it, remember we were once friends until my daughter swiped your purse...and you lost your cars and your house and now I have it ALL?? remember that...house the courts determined that it is no speech impediment to blame it all on the wrong guys? while we get the new stuff and continue our merry way doing what we do...which I guess in a prison full of males would be to assault one another anally in the middle of the night...I guess..I guess that's why I haven't had the sensation of penetration or what you call that when you don't use your fingers but the blessed event of the spousal arousal..I guess...that's never bin but it was guaranteed a long time ago..lying in the tall grass of Massapaquaan during the conference on intersteller peace...so would the legend say...it attempts now...and I feel grief that someone who was so close..well I guess I knew always that they were not..strangling the cat...beating the daughter (so she would steal, you should hear baby daddy's version of THAT, ahem...)
we've got so many cloaks on, we dont know who we are..and it's three thirty in the morning and I wake up worrying about it because almond's driving the truck now..but what truck is that if it still sits there thumbing its nose at us and Uncle Sam and all his two dollar bills appears to be his sidekick? or is that TOLSTOY telling another tale and Uncle Joe sitting on the ripe meow? Uncle Joe's not really sure he HAS it but he'll send in the clowns...I guess that'd be that fellow that um...uses his fingers...to create the sensation of rape...oh yeah, he's good at that..my spine twinges..the pain goes deep, it's like there's nothing there...inside...when he does that.
anyway...if they want to be dopplegangers, I say, the hell with them..we're in a new dimension here in Hewlett Packard...we have inside out and outside in...we don't f around...we believe in love and that's it...try to mess with us and we bounce back. well...in new Suburbans and so forth, yeah...I don't get how I'm good friends with the parents of this chump, but I am and we don't talk about his son ripping me off to the max but we don't, and supposedly he's giving me the macros bit by bit, what it is about...and yet...the site of the new suburban...while my little truck remains stationary because the transmission has gone defunken...oh, you can't buy it yet I have to get a tranny...oh well, have this..well DENNIS yeah dennis again...a favorite stuffed doll of the daughter beater...you know...they never beat the son that I'm aware of...but the daughter, bloody noses and black eyes, yep..because she talked back...is it any surprise now that she wears a habit (first of all it was the TRIAGE...now it's the guys with the disks from the third reich who think that means that you just be whoever the phlegm you want to be)...and they are doing that because the first new cd I tried to record on went boomo right off the bat...that's how you know..and that new Suburban, after having the house foreclosed because oh yeah that same new Suburban guy was taking over the mortgage and a week before foreclosure he's like 'it's all going to be taken care of in a week'..WELL YEAH IT WAS, WASN'T IT?
and this warrants him a new vehicle while both of mine are battered and nearly dead? huh..and I'm friends with his parents? hmmm...something not right here..then the looming warrant from Ed Anderson ...got something for you to sign..guess they'll send me over another fat boy to whom I can confide my misery..oh that reminds me, I should brush my teeth before he gets here...like I'm looking forward to a three inch schizzle with no pop...
he's got about as much skill in the satchel as the formidable octopus has sliding through the opening in the rock...he gets in there and geez lookit all the eggs in the fridge...which I just gave a dozen of to the people next door...the Suburban financers apparently as my house apparently sold for less than half of the asking price...what it was worth and all...imagine that...and you can't sue these people because after all they have lived next door to you for going on thirty years and you should have known from the start that the reason it sat vacant five years before you got it was that you couldn't live next door to these people and survive...it was, after all, them who told you about Diana Spencer Townsend...motor accident during separation from Charles...
well maybe it's a good thing...there's not to be more than one of me when the Massapequaan event unfolds, right? that is what I believe...but this really makes my stomach churn, how it develops, how the servants are making all the wrong decisions because there's no one in charge...and they might be able to make fat boy say the right things...like ''I'm the MAN' which yeah is what he is when he spends the other two months of his time since I last saw him over at his common-law wife's house (well, he did get a little fudgy on that a while back when he admitted he had been with her)...he said not in the beginning...but it's not true...not if little conripoff artist is driving around new new SUBURBANS...and my cars don't run at all...and my house is foreclosed and apparently been sold for less than I paid for it...and I supposed to talk to a woman in forks named P.A.T. about all this but of course the preacher got to the book because he had the key..and that was the plan of action on the BANYON program...the plants in the yard, even the little one Inda gave me...the plum..well I guess they all burned up now...the lillies, the peonies, the roses...never could keep a whatchamacalit by the front door because it would go as soon as the neighbors woke up in the morning...the tulips...they got those first thing as a consequence of the Nuremburg trials...someone must pay...what'shisface was right about the communists...and so was the other thing about the kite runner...if you don't wear it as an armor..and perhaps that's what you must do..and I know they don't over there, the cat stranglers...that's what they are and it's obvious
I was walking in...I heard them grilling her like bacon...she was back peddling, figured I'd be the ticket out...and sure enough...I come back after a hello to MT...and it's all good..I'm the bad guy..never fails, even with family...you resolve the dispute and you put it on me...how? pretty much scorn and what...ostracism...funny how that word sounds like auschweitz..you know me and two sons had a life there in a past life according to shirley mclean's brand of believability...well, I don't like being in the same room with that great cow and because she wasn't at church on sunday I gotta hear it again about how I didn't get certified yet so I can't ride on a call with anyone but her so she can tell me what to do and yell at me if it's not right...I can't train this dog...I don't want to..it would be cruel...the dog world told me so what about three years ago..enough man...let Jeff Bridges take over this end of it and let them all stare at goats over in Afghanistan...they don't beat me, they drive Suburbans in my face and let some monkey take the church key door to my house and inhabit it...a house I paid for about three times now I reckon...and never did own...but so and so...ashton?? got a new Suburban out of it...a coupe aire
talk about your insults..that's how I found out they weren't going to be at Michelina Haus any more...hehe...at a baby shower...'shall I pack this for you?' pack it, where are you going? we're moving to Beck house...beck means stream in Scottish...heh...so...are we confused yet...not really...we're grilling pork like it's on sale and then suddenly the whole room is pork, ever had that happen? not lately, hmm...and you haven't been certified...because enough pork in the room and you will be certifiable all right...that's how it goes, when even Uncle Sam is sitting there with a bowl of borscht...and all the people rescued by 911 are just clones of the same to reinforce the same ...that's how it goes
I never yet seen them intervenous technicians on board get one in...but I have seen them cause more pain to someone actually suffering...and there's where my ping pong ability comes in pretty handy...but they figured it out and roped me in...so I don't get to do much of anything for anyone who really needs my help...which is not unlike the situation in Afghanistan...apparently Earth's been compromised by the outcome of the triage...apparently russkaya has learned the short cuts of disking and clones up whatever smells like poop...hehe...such logic...and nowhere in there is the Massapaquaan legend...just the energy of that first embrace used to insulate a tender rectal portal...I should think my daddy would be a little angry about that...according to exposure rates on being in the same room with the fat cow...daddy doesn't exist but lives happily in New Zealand and once in a while gets caught throwing phones at gay receptionists over a scottish strumpet who looks suspiciously like Caroline Molivadas
and there's been a few of those
I just can't get over the new Suburban thing..he can't be paying rent to Beck...I don't see it...I don't see what I'd say to him either...gonna take care of it huh? get my house foreclosed so you and sweetie pie can hang at Murray's on the Canadian channel early mornings with Bob Mackowitz (no more)...parading around slip point holding hands...that ain't LeeAnn..
rhymes with the big fat boy on his way here...geez that's the both of yahs..because what he got ain't the pool stick or the rackdup...whatever...fat is all he is...once in a while I feel a hug come thru..the grass whispers in the wind, that's all..and it's been two months...over that...no one knows about him..he never existed...although wait a minute, I did tell the cow...and she said 'watch out he's an alcoholic'..oh yeah, that shift sergeant, there's the alcholic for you...hehe...I guess that one worked out..no, I"m probably way overloaded from nothing comforting and what else...I guess I don't get to be in the ambulance crew because they just don't like me there because I don't eat borscht..
I better quit griping and get ready for the three hundred pounder...if in fact he even shows up...remember to zip my lip...don't give him a turn driving the Suburban...I can be all angry about this but it's been ongoing for a while..back to Profumo and Keeler...that's where the disks turned american suburbia into the nightmare of conformity, the overpopulation of the world...the inability to find planets to colonize...well yeah, we're not getting off this one till we get it right...comrade..do I hate you? I eat chicken...beef...hmm...salmon? I guess I know my direct operating systems and how to actually land on a new world...if my landing disks are in the priest's pockets...I don't think you really thought about that much, Mikhail...eta leiza...sumia butcha..so..if there's no Massapaquaan..at least in this life I knew there was..or I might have been happy with the television show character, Cavanaugh/Meints com Ritter et whatever else there was...confusing but realistically happy there for a bit..and somewhat never since or if at all...it feels as though..or perhaps that's his defeat, and just a bit of flatulence on the part of Baryshnikov...maybe...I know here at Willison Cottage I don't have a dance room like I did at Michelina Haus, perhaps that's the suffering element..that I don't do that or perhaps it is destined to be the basement..it certainly can't be the garage..there was a fine dance studio en process at michelina haus..there isn't here although the gallery would suffice if it were possible...only the aches remain and Nureyev contents Fonteyn as he always did do..and she is marbleless...I just looked..
well...I suppose it's an occupational hazard, having been a military (ewess) sniper in Afghanistan. He has a look of one dumbfounded...speaks slowly...and his partner in crime, the eminent doofus, shuffle in...has had it all along, the Direct Operating System confusion syndrome...when you're in the cold war but that's supposedly long over. and you've come home again and you're not sure where you were, but they tell you the Sun Also Rises...like you do, and that you're still alive...even though you've taken care of good 'ol Assif's arse...and there's a woman sitting on the bar stool next to you who is available...but there's a pitcher of beer there too...and that looks pretty good.
So that's the common sense side of all of this, but there's another, there's the pretty much irritating factor that causes the creating of Ashton, Karin's at age 47...which I've figured out from my own point of view is the purpose of a gun by the name...if I'm smoking...and there is where the criticism of well I don't even know how to describe it but it's nothing to do with autoexecutor states or direct operating systems, it's the blatant subversion of them...like the car, the Sub burr BAN..and the fact the guy who lived in my house for nearly a year, had a kid there and never paid a dime of rent is now again living rent free in another house down the street and just got himself a Nuked 'r'...which I seen lookin' out da winda from the Ojeda place...and I hear he 'has lice'...hmmm. I'm a bit upset about it, of course...lookin' forward to my own relaxtion and recreation in another hour or so with the typical piece of meat I get handed that I never truly enjoy other than to know the intention is good...hehe
my neighbor from the other house is walking hand and hand with a new woman..a real pretty woman..and we're standing around looking at one another going 'what happened to Leanne'??
there was a Leanna in my class in high school here, she had teh same name as the electrical supply company in Port Angeles...go figure my house is ALWAYS cold...grousing...
we hit a grouse on the way back from town the day we carried the swingset to the other neighbors..the ones sent here directly from the 'green crow'...green cow..moss crowing moss on the roof...trying to be...getting really 'fat'..really fat..need to be in tops..
i LET out a deep breath..italics resists being changed up...I think about CUBA..and then there's the subtle threat at the meeting...I don't even say it was at the firehall..because 'that one' is big time in charge there...the fat green cow..really fat...really rub your face in it, remember we were once friends until my daughter swiped your purse...and you lost your cars and your house and now I have it ALL?? remember that...house the courts determined that it is no speech impediment to blame it all on the wrong guys? while we get the new stuff and continue our merry way doing what we do...which I guess in a prison full of males would be to assault one another anally in the middle of the night...I guess..I guess that's why I haven't had the sensation of penetration or what you call that when you don't use your fingers but the blessed event of the spousal arousal..I guess...that's never bin but it was guaranteed a long time ago..lying in the tall grass of Massapaquaan during the conference on intersteller peace...so would the legend say...it attempts now...and I feel grief that someone who was so close..well I guess I knew always that they were not..strangling the cat...beating the daughter (so she would steal, you should hear baby daddy's version of THAT, ahem...)
we've got so many cloaks on, we dont know who we are..and it's three thirty in the morning and I wake up worrying about it because almond's driving the truck now..but what truck is that if it still sits there thumbing its nose at us and Uncle Sam and all his two dollar bills appears to be his sidekick? or is that TOLSTOY telling another tale and Uncle Joe sitting on the ripe meow? Uncle Joe's not really sure he HAS it but he'll send in the clowns...I guess that'd be that fellow that um...uses his fingers...to create the sensation of rape...oh yeah, he's good at that..my spine twinges..the pain goes deep, it's like there's nothing there...inside...when he does that.
anyway...if they want to be dopplegangers, I say, the hell with them..we're in a new dimension here in Hewlett Packard...we have inside out and outside in...we don't f around...we believe in love and that's it...try to mess with us and we bounce back. well...in new Suburbans and so forth, yeah...I don't get how I'm good friends with the parents of this chump, but I am and we don't talk about his son ripping me off to the max but we don't, and supposedly he's giving me the macros bit by bit, what it is about...and yet...the site of the new suburban...while my little truck remains stationary because the transmission has gone defunken...oh, you can't buy it yet I have to get a tranny...oh well, have this..well DENNIS yeah dennis again...a favorite stuffed doll of the daughter beater...you know...they never beat the son that I'm aware of...but the daughter, bloody noses and black eyes, yep..because she talked back...is it any surprise now that she wears a habit (first of all it was the TRIAGE...now it's the guys with the disks from the third reich who think that means that you just be whoever the phlegm you want to be)...and they are doing that because the first new cd I tried to record on went boomo right off the bat...that's how you know..and that new Suburban, after having the house foreclosed because oh yeah that same new Suburban guy was taking over the mortgage and a week before foreclosure he's like 'it's all going to be taken care of in a week'..WELL YEAH IT WAS, WASN'T IT?
and this warrants him a new vehicle while both of mine are battered and nearly dead? huh..and I'm friends with his parents? hmmm...something not right here..then the looming warrant from Ed Anderson ...got something for you to sign..guess they'll send me over another fat boy to whom I can confide my misery..oh that reminds me, I should brush my teeth before he gets here...like I'm looking forward to a three inch schizzle with no pop...
he's got about as much skill in the satchel as the formidable octopus has sliding through the opening in the rock...he gets in there and geez lookit all the eggs in the fridge...which I just gave a dozen of to the people next door...the Suburban financers apparently as my house apparently sold for less than half of the asking price...what it was worth and all...imagine that...and you can't sue these people because after all they have lived next door to you for going on thirty years and you should have known from the start that the reason it sat vacant five years before you got it was that you couldn't live next door to these people and survive...it was, after all, them who told you about Diana Spencer Townsend...motor accident during separation from Charles...
well maybe it's a good thing...there's not to be more than one of me when the Massapequaan event unfolds, right? that is what I believe...but this really makes my stomach churn, how it develops, how the servants are making all the wrong decisions because there's no one in charge...and they might be able to make fat boy say the right things...like ''I'm the MAN' which yeah is what he is when he spends the other two months of his time since I last saw him over at his common-law wife's house (well, he did get a little fudgy on that a while back when he admitted he had been with her)...he said not in the beginning...but it's not true...not if little conripoff artist is driving around new new SUBURBANS...and my cars don't run at all...and my house is foreclosed and apparently been sold for less than I paid for it...and I supposed to talk to a woman in forks named P.A.T. about all this but of course the preacher got to the book because he had the key..and that was the plan of action on the BANYON program...the plants in the yard, even the little one Inda gave me...the plum..well I guess they all burned up now...the lillies, the peonies, the roses...never could keep a whatchamacalit by the front door because it would go as soon as the neighbors woke up in the morning...the tulips...they got those first thing as a consequence of the Nuremburg trials...someone must pay...what'shisface was right about the communists...and so was the other thing about the kite runner...if you don't wear it as an armor..and perhaps that's what you must do..and I know they don't over there, the cat stranglers...that's what they are and it's obvious
I was walking in...I heard them grilling her like bacon...she was back peddling, figured I'd be the ticket out...and sure enough...I come back after a hello to MT...and it's all good..I'm the bad guy..never fails, even with family...you resolve the dispute and you put it on me...how? pretty much scorn and what...ostracism...funny how that word sounds like auschweitz..you know me and two sons had a life there in a past life according to shirley mclean's brand of believability...well, I don't like being in the same room with that great cow and because she wasn't at church on sunday I gotta hear it again about how I didn't get certified yet so I can't ride on a call with anyone but her so she can tell me what to do and yell at me if it's not right...I can't train this dog...I don't want to..it would be cruel...the dog world told me so what about three years ago..enough man...let Jeff Bridges take over this end of it and let them all stare at goats over in Afghanistan...they don't beat me, they drive Suburbans in my face and let some monkey take the church key door to my house and inhabit it...a house I paid for about three times now I reckon...and never did own...but so and so...ashton?? got a new Suburban out of it...a coupe aire
talk about your insults..that's how I found out they weren't going to be at Michelina Haus any more...hehe...at a baby shower...'shall I pack this for you?' pack it, where are you going? we're moving to Beck house...beck means stream in Scottish...heh...so...are we confused yet...not really...we're grilling pork like it's on sale and then suddenly the whole room is pork, ever had that happen? not lately, hmm...and you haven't been certified...because enough pork in the room and you will be certifiable all right...that's how it goes, when even Uncle Sam is sitting there with a bowl of borscht...and all the people rescued by 911 are just clones of the same to reinforce the same ...that's how it goes
I never yet seen them intervenous technicians on board get one in...but I have seen them cause more pain to someone actually suffering...and there's where my ping pong ability comes in pretty handy...but they figured it out and roped me in...so I don't get to do much of anything for anyone who really needs my help...which is not unlike the situation in Afghanistan...apparently Earth's been compromised by the outcome of the triage...apparently russkaya has learned the short cuts of disking and clones up whatever smells like poop...hehe...such logic...and nowhere in there is the Massapaquaan legend...just the energy of that first embrace used to insulate a tender rectal portal...I should think my daddy would be a little angry about that...according to exposure rates on being in the same room with the fat cow...daddy doesn't exist but lives happily in New Zealand and once in a while gets caught throwing phones at gay receptionists over a scottish strumpet who looks suspiciously like Caroline Molivadas
and there's been a few of those
I just can't get over the new Suburban thing..he can't be paying rent to Beck...I don't see it...I don't see what I'd say to him either...gonna take care of it huh? get my house foreclosed so you and sweetie pie can hang at Murray's on the Canadian channel early mornings with Bob Mackowitz (no more)...parading around slip point holding hands...that ain't LeeAnn..
rhymes with the big fat boy on his way here...geez that's the both of yahs..because what he got ain't the pool stick or the rackdup...whatever...fat is all he is...once in a while I feel a hug come thru..the grass whispers in the wind, that's all..and it's been two months...over that...no one knows about him..he never existed...although wait a minute, I did tell the cow...and she said 'watch out he's an alcoholic'..oh yeah, that shift sergeant, there's the alcholic for you...hehe...I guess that one worked out..no, I"m probably way overloaded from nothing comforting and what else...I guess I don't get to be in the ambulance crew because they just don't like me there because I don't eat borscht..
I better quit griping and get ready for the three hundred pounder...if in fact he even shows up...remember to zip my lip...don't give him a turn driving the Suburban...I can be all angry about this but it's been ongoing for a while..back to Profumo and Keeler...that's where the disks turned american suburbia into the nightmare of conformity, the overpopulation of the world...the inability to find planets to colonize...well yeah, we're not getting off this one till we get it right...comrade..do I hate you? I eat chicken...beef...hmm...salmon? I guess I know my direct operating systems and how to actually land on a new world...if my landing disks are in the priest's pockets...I don't think you really thought about that much, Mikhail...eta leiza...sumia butcha..so..if there's no Massapaquaan..at least in this life I knew there was..or I might have been happy with the television show character, Cavanaugh/Meints com Ritter et whatever else there was...confusing but realistically happy there for a bit..and somewhat never since or if at all...it feels as though..or perhaps that's his defeat, and just a bit of flatulence on the part of Baryshnikov...maybe...I know here at Willison Cottage I don't have a dance room like I did at Michelina Haus, perhaps that's the suffering element..that I don't do that or perhaps it is destined to be the basement..it certainly can't be the garage..there was a fine dance studio en process at michelina haus..there isn't here although the gallery would suffice if it were possible...only the aches remain and Nureyev contents Fonteyn as he always did do..and she is marbleless...I just looked..
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