A Man of Letters
Wednesday, August 27, 2003
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Thursday, August 21, 2003
IS THIS BLOG-WORTHY?:
So I was biking downtown yesterday, and I passed a homeless man leaning against a railing. He looked sort of pained and hunched over, and as I got closer I noticed that he was bleeding everywhere. I started to slow down to see if I could help him out, but when I got within about 10 feet, the smell of barbeque sauce hit me.
"What the...?!" I thought. "That's not blood."
I sped up and biked away from the man, who was now shirtless, and busy rubbing barbeque sauce into his torso like it was SPF 30. On my way home, all that was left was a stain on the pavement and an empty bottle of KC masterpiece where he'd been standing.
Monday, August 18, 2003
LIFE LESSONS:
I assumed that my friend Pierre (pictured below) would be a big hit with the fairer sex. To say that he was received coldly when I introduced him to some promising young ladies is an understatement.
"Allo, comment ca va, cheri?"
"Dude, is that like, some kind of French hand puppet? Like, how old are you?"
Apparently, the beauty and romance of the French language is entirely lost when coming from a crude drawing on a hand.
Pierre
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
NOTE TO SELF:
When you reach a point in the evening where you actually hear the words "I dunno, beer's not really treating me right. I'm gonna switch to bourbon," come out of your own mouth. It's probably time to go home.
On a related note, riding your bike to happy hour means you probably won't kill anyone else on the way home. Killing yourself is an entirely different issue.
unrelated awesomeness:
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