Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.

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    • ------------------------------------- How this blog got its name

      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.

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          • December 5, 2012 8:59 pm
            Driving to my cubicle this morning and listening to lite FM, the smart ass DJ was playing We Will Rock You/ We Are the Champions, by Queen. Traffic was at a standstill, but we were all champions none the less. After work we went to Red Lobster, my mother in-law is visiting. I had a sensible adult meal of grilled tilapia and lite beer. Judy had the salmon and white zin. There was music playing. Daryl Hall was singing about the mystery of love whilst his partner John Oates lustily agreed in the form of musical accompaniment. I smeared pudding all over my face and killed thirteen people. Mother was not harmed, but she had to be sedated. Tonight I huff ether in the garage while the ancient bears scream at me about Rocking in the Free World. Life is good, Toyotathon is happening, to bad I have to work tomorrow.

            Driving to my cubicle this morning and listening to lite FM, the smart ass DJ was playing We Will Rock You/ We Are the Champions, by Queen. Traffic was at a standstill, but we were all champions none the less.

            After work we went to Red Lobster, my mother in-law is visiting. I had a sensible adult meal of grilled tilapia and lite beer. Judy had the salmon and white zin. There was music playing. Daryl Hall was singing about the mystery of love whilst his partner John Oates lustily agreed in the form of musical accompaniment. I smeared pudding all over my face and killed thirteen people. Mother was not harmed, but she had to be sedated.

            Tonight I huff ether in the garage while the ancient bears scream at me about Rocking in the Free World. Life is good, Toyotathon is happening, to bad I have to work tomorrow.

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              Idk what the hell he’s talkin about. I’m just here to stare at a girls ass while she plays pinball.
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