As a gesture of pure magnamimity, I will bestow all of you, my dear readers, with some council on this, the last pre-spring semester Wednesday of 2006. (how quickly they come and vanish into the night)In highschool a group of my friends and I devised a labeling system to describe those who were well aware of their own coolness. Once you had reached the pinacle of your self-decribed and advertisted coolness, we would sarcasticly refer to you as "CG" and then we would follow you around doing a very odd ogre-like gesture. Think a more different version of the chicken dance of Arrested Development fame. I guess it was a little childish, but then again, so was highschool. Oh yeah, the warning...I was going to share an amusing ancedote about how I was refueling my rig at a Maverick Country Store that I frequent. While washing my bug ridden windshield, I was overcome with uneasiness and panic at the sound of a torrent of liquid spewing profusely from my vehicle. I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. By that I mean I went to investigate the source of the fluidic sound of chaos only to find that my gas tank had overflown. The auto-shut off(the gas pump, not my auto) had malfunctioned(not unlike when Satan makes us malfunction) and regular unleaded was cascading down my vehicle into a flamable pool on the ground. Its rather unfortunate that I don't have the time to share that anecdote with you. Your loss.
4 comments:
It's like that one time when I forgot to clock out at work. That thing just kept going and going.
That would have been a sweet anecdote. Skills!
Mr. Souflee, always leaving me wanting more.
that's what we call the Blake Effect.
TR, oh how I've missed you.
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