Byron Nelson Breeds Breastviewing
It’s my sister’s birthday today. She turned thirty this morning around soap opera time. Thirty. You know how old that makes me? Damn. Because if she’s getting older, that means I’m getting older. It’s slightly depressing that half my life ago she snuck me into my first Ten Hands concert. I was fifteen then. A whole lifetime has passed since then. And that’s just plain crazy.
We’ve got Stella the Star Seeking Student trapped in ice this week, which is why she has been idle. Not to fear though. She said something really disturbing occurred to her last night, and she will be writing about it. I’m excited about it, as it’s a pretty good story.
Speaking of women who like to show off their cleavage… Heather Graham sure has been doing a lot of that lately.
Everyone but Mexicans.
You see, the whole qualm I have with it – besides it just being low class and disgusting, not to mention lazy – is that when you work in a corporate office such as we have here, you should no longer be a child. Obviously we have children working here, because no one has taught them how to raise a damn toilet seat before they micturate. And nothing pisses me off (short those couple of things I can’t think of right now) more than going in there to take care of business and having to wipe someone else’s piss off the seat. You don’t piss on the seat at home, asshole, so why do you do it where you work? Because you know Consuelo will be coming in to clean it up, huh? Children. Even my dog has better sense than that (inset picture).
Otherwise, how would they all know when we screw up? And you notice whenever you’ve been single for a while and you finally find someone worth checking into, that’s when they all come to call. When it rains it pours, gentlemen. They all know. It’s like a little alarm in their heads go off saying “Johnnie’s got a girl now! Set tits to stun! Go get him girls!” And they do. They all come around. But you never see that shit happening when you’re single. Well, unless you’re like me. But that’s beside the point.
We were driving – actually (again) she was driving [had I been driving (being a more competent driver altogether) we probably wouldn’t have had the experience in the first place] and she cut some lady off in a Buick. My friend drives like a blind, retarded lemur with no legs in the first place, so riding with her is a real treat. You can see in the passenger floorboard, the carpet is kind of worn out from her passengers slamming on imaginary brakes. I’m a pretty laid-back passenger and not much scares me, but when I’m riding with her, I can’t watch the road. Frankly, she scares the great green shit out of me. You are guaranteed an ulcer in twenty minutes if she drives you through downtown Dallas traffic. Not that I would ever actually ride with her through downtown Dallas during traffic.