Girls don't like boys.
Girls like cars and money.
Is it weird that I find those lyrics almost profound? It's probably more about how effectively it targets my lingering insecurity issues and less than fond memories of High School (and to a marginally lesser extent, University... but College still sucked) being more than throwing distance away from the A-crowd. Still, everything seems to have a primal truth to it when told over a I-V-IV progression.
I often get told how funny I am. One time, offhandedly, I replied "Yeah, I had the type of looks in High School that neccessitated a good personality." I think I just know how to mask my insecurities better now. Or at least mock them. Or be more calm about them. Or something. Shut up.
Girls with the bodies like boys with Ferrarris.
I'm doing much better now. But deep down, I know the real reason I'm looking at a shiny red sporty little car. Compensate much? Yes ma'am!!! I surely do!!!
Today was - as I vow every time I have to endure a Greyhound bus trip - my last fucking bus trip. I'll grant that this one wasn't particularly unpleasant, but it still was a miserable way to travel. One good thing: they showed a movie I was halfway interested in on the way to Toronto - "Runaway Jury" with John Cusack and Gene Hackman. One bad thing: we pulled in for a rest stop right when the movie was building to its climax. So the movie stopped. We paused and grabbed some fast food. We went back onto the bus. The driver threw on another movie for the remainder of the trip. I have no idea how the damn movie ended!!! Don't wreck it for me. But now I've got to rent the damn thing for fifteen minutes of footage! Argh!
Every time I visit Lady Toronto, it's an interesting experience. She manages to be beautiful and sprawling and awesome and massive and so obviously one of the greatest cities in the world, and yet still so twisted and sick and awful all at the same time. From the moment the CN Tower emerges from the mists on the horizon, through the drive downtown, where I pass by my awesome old apartment building and the gorgeous park that surrounds it, I'm nearly overcome with nostalgia.
But something always happens.
This time, I was waiting to make my connection at the main bus terminal. I was possessed with a tremendous need to set some Gatorade free. So off I go to the washroom.
I get into a stall, ready the equpiment, and then I hear a voice:
"Suck that cock."
Fancying myself alone, and hearing voices, I thought the obvious:
"Jesus?"
But no. Again, more clearly localized from two stalls over:
"Oh yeah. Suck that cock."
Now, I'm not opposed to gay sex in public washrooms. I mean, there are obvious hygiene issues that really need to be accounted for, but beyond that, hey, go nuts. But god damn it, I get all nervous and can't go if you're going to make a lot of damn noise. I was clenching for the rest of the trip.
Anyways - that was my Toronto experience.
Did you all miss me while I was gone???
Girls like cars and money.
Is it weird that I find those lyrics almost profound? It's probably more about how effectively it targets my lingering insecurity issues and less than fond memories of High School (and to a marginally lesser extent, University... but College still sucked) being more than throwing distance away from the A-crowd. Still, everything seems to have a primal truth to it when told over a I-V-IV progression.
I often get told how funny I am. One time, offhandedly, I replied "Yeah, I had the type of looks in High School that neccessitated a good personality." I think I just know how to mask my insecurities better now. Or at least mock them. Or be more calm about them. Or something. Shut up.
Girls with the bodies like boys with Ferrarris.
I'm doing much better now. But deep down, I know the real reason I'm looking at a shiny red sporty little car. Compensate much? Yes ma'am!!! I surely do!!!
Today was - as I vow every time I have to endure a Greyhound bus trip - my last fucking bus trip. I'll grant that this one wasn't particularly unpleasant, but it still was a miserable way to travel. One good thing: they showed a movie I was halfway interested in on the way to Toronto - "Runaway Jury" with John Cusack and Gene Hackman. One bad thing: we pulled in for a rest stop right when the movie was building to its climax. So the movie stopped. We paused and grabbed some fast food. We went back onto the bus. The driver threw on another movie for the remainder of the trip. I have no idea how the damn movie ended!!! Don't wreck it for me. But now I've got to rent the damn thing for fifteen minutes of footage! Argh!
Every time I visit Lady Toronto, it's an interesting experience. She manages to be beautiful and sprawling and awesome and massive and so obviously one of the greatest cities in the world, and yet still so twisted and sick and awful all at the same time. From the moment the CN Tower emerges from the mists on the horizon, through the drive downtown, where I pass by my awesome old apartment building and the gorgeous park that surrounds it, I'm nearly overcome with nostalgia.
But something always happens.
This time, I was waiting to make my connection at the main bus terminal. I was possessed with a tremendous need to set some Gatorade free. So off I go to the washroom.
I get into a stall, ready the equpiment, and then I hear a voice:
"Suck that cock."
Fancying myself alone, and hearing voices, I thought the obvious:
"Jesus?"
But no. Again, more clearly localized from two stalls over:
"Oh yeah. Suck that cock."
Now, I'm not opposed to gay sex in public washrooms. I mean, there are obvious hygiene issues that really need to be accounted for, but beyond that, hey, go nuts. But god damn it, I get all nervous and can't go if you're going to make a lot of damn noise. I was clenching for the rest of the trip.
Anyways - that was my Toronto experience.
Did you all miss me while I was gone???
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
"suck that cock"? That was funny.
"Jesus?" That had me on the floor.
That wasn't gross.
That was a special thing you shared with the world