after spending a fair amount of time with the hicks in VT (read: amongst the deer heads on the wall), it's nice to hear about one's culture. moving from crowd to crowd is rather enjoyable and refreshing though.
so my first "real job" was teaching french at a ski academy. i guess that explains why i know paris pretty well. and i never did tell you about buddha bar. turns out i was a little déchiré (at a bar called, of all things, FUBAR) and met two NY tourists who needed a tour guide. long story short, i wound up amongst all these french suits and supermodels with a north face fleece on. and i just walked through the door like i owned the place.
I think I've said too much already. A girl can't lay down all her cards at once. Good thing my deck goes higher than 52. I wish I were a guy so I could pee anywhere I wanted while standing up. That's real power. I'd like to meet the following: My great-great grandparents, the N. Oklahoma ones, not the Swiss gentry. My woebegone friendship with Adam G. The man who's going to be with me till we're retired to the porch swing sucking on glycerine tablets, and who still reads to me at night, while I rub his feet. My ambitions with commitment and discipline. The characters from old David Lee Roth videos. Hot carb on carb action. That fucker who keeps trying to take the bbq, in a dark alley, satan's minions, lilliputians, nigglers, pifflers, piddlers, snake-oil peddlers, cripples, do-gooders, truth-seekers, sweethearts, wandering minstrels, interlopers, robber barons, saints, sinners, people who snort and guffaw, holler and whoop, tender tender people with good hearts, and all my fat little babies. I like BUTTER! And Vitamin Z!
1 comment:
how jerry seinfeld of you with that joke!
after spending a fair amount of time with the hicks in VT (read: amongst the deer heads on the wall), it's nice to hear about one's culture. moving from crowd to crowd is rather enjoyable and refreshing though.
so my first "real job" was teaching french at a ski academy. i guess that explains why i know paris pretty well. and i never did tell you about buddha bar. turns out i was a little déchiré (at a bar called, of all things, FUBAR) and met two NY tourists who needed a tour guide. long story short, i wound up amongst all these french suits and supermodels with a north face fleece on. and i just walked through the door like i owned the place.
enjoy the weekend. i'm off to the mountains.
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