Vanilla Frosties, my conversational best
Visiting home is a great way for me to feel both bored and boring. Today, over dinner with my mom, she talked about:
- A man she had met who robbed a bank to pay off gambling debts
- A friend's husband who likes to get drunk and chop wood (we later drove by his house, and holy shit, that was a lot of wood)
- Other stories of interesting stuff she's been up to lately
I, on the other hand, had this topic to cover:
- Wendy's has vanilla Frosties.
'Hey Mom, Wendy's has vanilla Frosties now.'
'Oh really? How are they?'
'They're pretty good.'
'Hmmm.'
END OF CONVERSATION
That's the best I could do. Summer is making me boring. I need an adventure, or at least a bad habit.
(bed.)
If we could go on an adventure, loyal reader(s), what would we do? I'm thinking it should involve vanilla Frosties, but that's probably my summer rut (and gut) speaking.
- A man she had met who robbed a bank to pay off gambling debts
- A friend's husband who likes to get drunk and chop wood (we later drove by his house, and holy shit, that was a lot of wood)
- Other stories of interesting stuff she's been up to lately
I, on the other hand, had this topic to cover:
- Wendy's has vanilla Frosties.
'Hey Mom, Wendy's has vanilla Frosties now.'
'Oh really? How are they?'
'They're pretty good.'
'Hmmm.'
END OF CONVERSATION
That's the best I could do. Summer is making me boring. I need an adventure, or at least a bad habit.
(bed.)
If we could go on an adventure, loyal reader(s), what would we do? I'm thinking it should involve vanilla Frosties, but that's probably my summer rut (and gut) speaking.
posted by Henry at 1:09 AM
4 Comments:
You want an adventure? I'll give you your rudding adventure. So to start with, you're a rich millionaire's son. You've got money, you've got land, and a whole lot of antique guns that you're a master at handling. You've also got a really hot fiance. Guess what? She gets kidnapped. They always do.
Being the dashing millionaire's son that you are, you walk into a bar, pick out the ten most bad ass looking men and pay them all to fight each other. The winner is a good looking but beefy son of a bitch named Carlyle. You're pretty sure he could kill you with one hand, so you hire him to track down the guy who took your hottie girlfriend. The two of you set out after much drinking and manly bonding.
Well it turns out your champion has ample brawn but a scarcity of brains. The first night after setting out, Carlyle gets involved in a bar fight and manages to piss off every rich and/or important man in town. Carlyle holds his own in the fight, and you're no weakling either, but the odds are against you and you both end up in the local jail. There you sit, drowning in self pity, cursing your handsome face (because if you were ugly, you wouldn't have been able to land such a hot lady friend, thereby ridding you of any concern of ever having to rescue said lady friend) when out of nowhere, you hear someone approaching your jail cell, and its not the gin-soaked walrus sized deputy who threw you in this stinking hell hole only hours before....
To be continued...
I've got an idea for an adventure.....There's a ring, right? Well, this ring hurts when you wear it, so I need someone to get rid of it. I tried throwing it away, but it came back. So I was wondering if you could spend about 3 years walking around the world, then find a volcano, and drop it in. That'd be great. Good enough adventure?
...I had this saved so I could post it like you asked, and I realized after pasting it that the comment before mine was much, much longer. I then thought to myself, "Self, we have two choices. We could either give him the full on explination of what needs to be done, OR, we could wait until he decides he's interested enough to go on this cliche` quest". Well, we obviously decided with the latter, on the count of being lazy, and/or too tired and sore to type that long.
Our adventure begins as most adventures do - with unprotected sex. From there we are whisked on a magical journey through gumdrop fields and whispering forests to the magical place that is Planned Parenthood.
Once we arrive we must endure a series of obstacles, such as the bored receptionist, the lack of seating, and outdated magazines. Our plucky young protagonists manage to see some nurses, sit through psychological counseling, pee into various cups, and finally are given some magic robot pills named RU-487.
TO BE CONTINUED
Damn, you wish you hadn't gotten so fucking drunk cause right now your head is swimming and it almost looks like theres a sexy high class hooker standing outside your cell, dangling a ring of keys in front of your face.
"I'll trade you," she says, gesturing at six feet and four inches of passed out man meat lying on the floor beside you. You figure, hey, its time for this guy to pull his weight around here. Besides, its not like youre selling him to an ugly hooker.
She passes you the keys and then kicks you in the face.
"I'm not a hooker you moron," she says. Guess what? She's also telepathic. The two of you get Carlyle to his feet and you both toss him into the back of her Mustang convertible hover craft. That's right. I said hover craft, bithc. It's science fiction time.
Post a Comment
<< Home