The ka-ching of love
I am sitting in this pub abstractedly watching a lad chat up this lass. And he is doing a good job. She is all taken in by his self-deprecating self-aggrandization. Or, maybe she is just a smart actor at a loose end that night. But I wish he would do it in voice with less treble and more bass. The squeakyness is distracting me from my daily dose of Sundarkand. This ritual may finally purify the Issac Newton pub. It is my life's mission. You may choose to discover a cure for cancer instead.
Finally, the clock punches eleven, the barkeep thumps out the last call for beers, the would-be lovers nod at each other. The guy follows me into the toilet, but doesn't head for the stall. Instead I see him cursing himself standing in front of the contraceptive vending machine.
At life's toll-booth, he had run out of change.
posted by i at 4:14 PM
14 Comments:
"self deprecating self-aggrandization", lovely! Why do I find myself identifying with this phrase!
Pub quiz, that pub, and a lobotomy.
And, anonymous there is NOTHING lovely about a lobotomy.
I suppose that lobotomy was thrown in to keep the hounds off the fox's tail? Else that sentence makes no sense.
By the way, unless you have experiences lobotomy yourself, you are in no position to comment about its beauty.
Marv and Miho are better placed. Sometimes things are better left in the hands of experts. Though the things may be diced up thin by the end of it.
Pukey, I was commenting on the phrase "self deprecating self aggrandization". Go read it again. Better, try and think about it.
Anonymous - Thinking, is really not my forte. I was merley being friendly, and sharing with you some of my most heartfelt sentiments. Thank God the operation did not damage my amygdala.
You - NotT allE senTenttenceses muUUUUUUst maaaaaaaKKKKe seeeeeenSe. Ask any person with a seriously malfunctioning amygdala.
Oh yes, every sentence must make sense. Otherwise. Well. I get upset. Then I start taking things seriously. Things like phrases. Phrases like "... he/she was cut-off in mid-sentence."
Well?
Toodle.
Well?
That is right. Perfecto. In lieu of an ability to construct sentences that carry meaning, it best to stick to monosyllables. It also gives one an Eastwoodian air, which is always a good one to have.
Opinions are like assholes, everybody has one.
Clint Eastwood
The Dead Pool
I like Fox's tranformation from Pukey, to Happy, to just plain Foxy.
You should know that every self-respecting psychopath must have two opinions. Else he is left bereft of meaningful exploratory conversations with his other self.
So, Fox, what's your second?
For the record, this is all the same anonymous. hehe.
BRAIN, n.
An apparatus with which we think what we think. That which distinguishes the man who is content to be something from the man who wishes to do something. A man of great wealth, or one who has been pitchforked into high station, has commonly such a headful of brain that his neighbors cannot keep their hats on. In our civilization, and under our republican form of government, brain is so highly honored that it is rewarded by exemption from the cares of office.
Head, n.
An apparatus frequently employed to measure the flow capacity of the small intestinal passage. Said also to house a mystical contraption called Brain.
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