compulsion...
i feel like writing something.
word on the street is that you are now an audience of four. wow. impressive. an increase in readership by a whole i-have-no-idea-because-i-am-bad-at-math percentage. zingers for whomever can do the math correctly.
ok, so the reality is that i feel like sending something off into space, but i have absolutely no idea of what to say. so here's to ramblin'. lawd, i was born a ramblin' man.
yeah, i just sang that song. more zingers to whomever knows the band.
no no no...no zingers. thats too easy cuz its the allman brothers, and everybody knows that.
do you ever wonder about that time in first grade when you peed your pants? really. like if traffic lights and flapping butterfly wings is what gives fate a shape, then what did that big, wet, warm accident after lunch on the playground influence who you are and what you are doing right now? if you hadnt (who am i kidding...i hadnt) done that, hadnt stayed on the tire swing too long, or drank that extra chocolate milk, would things be different or not? would you be more confident with yourself? more succesful? you could be a rockstar. instead you end up a mortgage broker with an suv and an average looking wife who watches friends every night at 6:30. and your boss, he is the guy who made fun of you. he is the kid who first noticed the darker shade of blue in the crotch of your jeans. and you, in adamant appeal, screaming, crying, "hey, i aint peed in my pants! the tire swing had water in it!" or, "i didnt pee in my pants! brad shaddix spilled his orange juice at lunch and it got on me!"
in fifth grade kevin pooped in his pants. i dont remember kevin's last name. but i do recall how he, because of this giant drying, crusting load, walked around funny all afternoon and sat in his desk with all his weight shifted to one side. (you know, so he wouldnt squash it.) what if i met kevin now, years later? what would i say? maybe i would congratulate him on his mortgage broker job. and when he introduces his average looking wife i wonder, "does she know that the man she married was destined to be something great, but because he pooped his pants in fifth grade he is a lesser man?"
well, thats exactly what happend, actually. poor kevin. but i guess he's no different than anyone else. we've all crapped in our pants. and he's just trying to make a livin' and doin' the best he can.
word on the street is that you are now an audience of four. wow. impressive. an increase in readership by a whole i-have-no-idea-because-i-am-bad-at-math percentage. zingers for whomever can do the math correctly.
ok, so the reality is that i feel like sending something off into space, but i have absolutely no idea of what to say. so here's to ramblin'. lawd, i was born a ramblin' man.
yeah, i just sang that song. more zingers to whomever knows the band.
no no no...no zingers. thats too easy cuz its the allman brothers, and everybody knows that.
do you ever wonder about that time in first grade when you peed your pants? really. like if traffic lights and flapping butterfly wings is what gives fate a shape, then what did that big, wet, warm accident after lunch on the playground influence who you are and what you are doing right now? if you hadnt (who am i kidding...i hadnt) done that, hadnt stayed on the tire swing too long, or drank that extra chocolate milk, would things be different or not? would you be more confident with yourself? more succesful? you could be a rockstar. instead you end up a mortgage broker with an suv and an average looking wife who watches friends every night at 6:30. and your boss, he is the guy who made fun of you. he is the kid who first noticed the darker shade of blue in the crotch of your jeans. and you, in adamant appeal, screaming, crying, "hey, i aint peed in my pants! the tire swing had water in it!" or, "i didnt pee in my pants! brad shaddix spilled his orange juice at lunch and it got on me!"
in fifth grade kevin pooped in his pants. i dont remember kevin's last name. but i do recall how he, because of this giant drying, crusting load, walked around funny all afternoon and sat in his desk with all his weight shifted to one side. (you know, so he wouldnt squash it.) what if i met kevin now, years later? what would i say? maybe i would congratulate him on his mortgage broker job. and when he introduces his average looking wife i wonder, "does she know that the man she married was destined to be something great, but because he pooped his pants in fifth grade he is a lesser man?"
well, thats exactly what happend, actually. poor kevin. but i guess he's no different than anyone else. we've all crapped in our pants. and he's just trying to make a livin' and doin' the best he can.
posted by Jared Ragland at 1/19/2005 07:35:00 PM
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