with the air in the hair in the rear of her derriere with the pepperoni pizza dent
Today we're (hopefully) doing lunch at Pizza Hut, with Ed & Denise. Nice people, but a little over-religious. Or maybe that's just the rebound from Bill Warren.
I sent him an email last week lamenting how, at the Soup Kitchen, we have to put up with some Bozo lecturing us on "intelligent design". This is, of course, completely incompatible with true science; nor do Bill's opinions on Newton -- why did he stray so far afield? -- represent a deep understanding of the history of science. Joe says I shouldn't argue with the guy, but Joe also said a lot of theistic philosophies that are logically flawed -- you can't explain everything -- as well as displaying a total ignorance of philosophy of science -- it's all a bunch of theories.
Since I'm tired of arguing with Bill, I'll simply wait a couple weeks, then send him the address to Andy Morlock's Dead.
The story's real atomic, having been written on a nutmeg binge, & wound up on the Velvet Underground webring. Unfortunately, it's incomplete, & although I did want a sex change to turn into a lesbian, I don't know what happens next. I am going to have to acquire a rasta cigar to complete the saga of W.C. Leadbeater, caught in a mental hospital he never made, with Andy slowly dying.
Trish had her foot doctor appointment yesterday at 9:15. Everything is fine, though he did give her a free sample of a skin cream. We had the taxi drop us off at Iron Claw House, where we played War until our appointment. I let Trish come in as she'd cried herself to sleep the night before: my vision's down to 20/300, & she feared that I would go totally blind. A visit to the eye doctor yielded stylish new frames, & a happy Bumble Bee Girl.
I fixed us b-b-q chicken, baked beans, & tater tots last night. Trish did a lot of cleaning, & wako called when we were about ready to break open a can of Pringle's Trish had splurged upon when we went shopping earlier. I had to explain to Keith that TVs are due to go obsolete in 2009, & that either the Blu-ray or HD-DVD are going to replace the current standard. Then he didn't know who Peter Gabriel was, so I let him go for the Pringle's.
We watched the Flintstones movie until bedtime. Toastie Bear kept us nice & warm, & we snuggled like Snuggle-uppagus. Kim made fun of Trish's teddy bears the last time she exasperated VADIS, so she can go take a fucking walk. & while I'm on the subject of fucking, fuck Scientology.
I sent him an email last week lamenting how, at the Soup Kitchen, we have to put up with some Bozo lecturing us on "intelligent design". This is, of course, completely incompatible with true science; nor do Bill's opinions on Newton -- why did he stray so far afield? -- represent a deep understanding of the history of science. Joe says I shouldn't argue with the guy, but Joe also said a lot of theistic philosophies that are logically flawed -- you can't explain everything -- as well as displaying a total ignorance of philosophy of science -- it's all a bunch of theories.
Since I'm tired of arguing with Bill, I'll simply wait a couple weeks, then send him the address to Andy Morlock's Dead.
The story's real atomic, having been written on a nutmeg binge, & wound up on the Velvet Underground webring. Unfortunately, it's incomplete, & although I did want a sex change to turn into a lesbian, I don't know what happens next. I am going to have to acquire a rasta cigar to complete the saga of W.C. Leadbeater, caught in a mental hospital he never made, with Andy slowly dying.
Trish had her foot doctor appointment yesterday at 9:15. Everything is fine, though he did give her a free sample of a skin cream. We had the taxi drop us off at Iron Claw House, where we played War until our appointment. I let Trish come in as she'd cried herself to sleep the night before: my vision's down to 20/300, & she feared that I would go totally blind. A visit to the eye doctor yielded stylish new frames, & a happy Bumble Bee Girl.
I fixed us b-b-q chicken, baked beans, & tater tots last night. Trish did a lot of cleaning, & wako called when we were about ready to break open a can of Pringle's Trish had splurged upon when we went shopping earlier. I had to explain to Keith that TVs are due to go obsolete in 2009, & that either the Blu-ray or HD-DVD are going to replace the current standard. Then he didn't know who Peter Gabriel was, so I let him go for the Pringle's.
We watched the Flintstones movie until bedtime. Toastie Bear kept us nice & warm, & we snuggled like Snuggle-uppagus. Kim made fun of Trish's teddy bears the last time she exasperated VADIS, so she can go take a fucking walk. & while I'm on the subject of fucking, fuck Scientology.
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