Monday, March 19, 2007

The Impossible Dream

How did I miss this guy in all those years in Portland? You know, you spend most of your life in one place, move to another, then realize your "soul-mate" was back home all along.

Read the whole thing, you won't be/will be sorry.

Did you read it yet? NO? Go back and do not continue until you have read the entire profile! The power of Froggy compels thee!

I guess no one wants to "Go it" alone. Here's my reply (unsent, but he'll "feel" it in the night):

Dear Lord Haywire -

I am very very pale. Some would even go so far as to call me Tasty. I don't really care for biting, but if you'll learn proper verb formation or at least to discern the difference between the second half of an auxilliary verb and a preposition, I'll fire RPK's, whatever they are, with you as we ride. You see, each of us has his own priorities and must honor those of our partner. That's the only reason I'll abide the bayonet babies. But do I really have to smoke? Do you? Does your mother know you smoke? What is a Strait Razor? Is it a type of skiff, narrow enough for tight passage? Or a blade that de-barbs country western singers? Does it cut through difficulties, like Alexander's broad sword cleaving the Gordian knot?

So many questions.

Have I mentioned how exceptionally pale I am? Oh, and I have very strait teeth. Just ask that OHSU dental student, Marty, I went on a date with. He couldn't stop talking about my perfect teeth and "class-A bite." Oh, he meant orthodonture, not foreplay. Don't get jealous.

Screw that skank at the coffee shop, she can't see how "hansome" you really are. She doesn't know that when you say you want to "hang out," you don't mean casually. You want a noose around our necks. I dig you. I dig you a grave.

Your cell-mate,

KF

4 comments:

steve said...

That must be some kinda coffee they're (there ) servin' over there (their).

kissyface said...

it's the kookoo kreamer.

Lord Haywire said...

I read this a couple of months ago, while I was at work, and my face turned bright red.

I cannot spell, or use grammar correctly. So, I fucked up by posting something that wasn't perfect. You should have e-mailed me, and maybe, I would have learned something. I wrote that, like three years ago, and thanks to firefox usually my spelling is better. Not my grammar, I like commas too much.
So I fucked up, and I shouldn't have put that on that site before I got a clue, but I still think the main feeling was and is valid.
Everyone who has every wanted to shit on that thing, called "What I Should Have Said at Coffee," has always gone after the grammar and spelling.
You burned me good, Im a stupid dumb ass, but doesn't the content mean anything? I mean, the correctly spelled and perfect content, lets say I can write a sentence to your standards.
I know you are going to be more clever then me, so I will just be honest.
I got lonely, and I thought (silly me) that if I just said what I wanted, like, in the worst way, then maybe I would have a chance at meeting someone who would understand me.
Your blog comments are not as good as they were a couple of months ago. The guy who thought I was like a vampire was pretty good.
LH
P.s. I am listening to this right now, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ATXV3DzKv68.
P.P.s. An RPK is the Russian version of the SAW. It is just a machine gun.

kissyface said...

Dear Lord Haywire -

I'm genuinely sorry to have shamed you. I was completely amazed, amused and bewildered at your posting - what kind of creative maniac are you? Couldn't decide if you were brilliant and crazy or brilliant and satirical.

I poke at the spelling, sure, but it's no marker of intelligence - plenty of dyslexics are completely genius.

Anyway, I really hope you found someone who suits you. We're all lonely at some point, and some of us remain that way our whole lives long. Stay honest. Sorry for picking on you. I still can't decipher if you're completely insane or not, but I love what you wrote. Sorry my subsequent posts have disappointed. I'm still exceptionally pale, though less so than when I lived up North.

Yours,
KFC