:: Porkchop Serum ::There's sparks over that building, they shootin at me. so I dip, do a back flip and hit em in the heart with sharp steel bookmarks | |||||||||
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:: Sunday, November 06, 2005 :: The sudoku twists me up and knot and desiccates my brain. Speaking of brains, went out with the crew tonight and heard a story that only could have come from the eighties. the scene, a bar. Maybe more than a bar as there was dancing. And as with all dancing bars in the eighties, the crowd formed a circle where burgeoning Fred Estaires were to enter and wow the crowd with mad skillz. The teller of the tale finds himself in the center of the circle, dances furiously building to a shocking finale. A back flip. Which would have been awesome had the slippery floor not doomed the move from the outset. This teller launches himself into the air yet makes it a scant halfway round and comes down thunderously upon his head. long story sort, a crack, visible in xray, from the upper right forehead to the top of the right ocular cavity, or whatever its called. all that for the chance to impress some shitheads at a bar.
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