I don't have a plan for this post at all, so this is pretty much off the top of my head, and it's like the same way a very talented jazz ensemble, who I would make slow-motion wanking motions at if you took me to see them, can riff on a theme for like an hour until you're begging your date to buy you another Brandy Alexander because it's been like forever and Jesus Christ, do you even understand how much I hate jazz? Do you care? The least you can do is get me drunk. And then she gets all stuck up and asks if she knows you, and then you realize she isn't your date but rather some girl, and the only thing she has in common with your date is her skin color and her teeth, and I guess that makes you a racist for only dating one skin color, but you ARE in the albino part of town, and you know what they say "Once you go white, it's pretty alright." or something like that. Maybe it's "Once you go hairless, you never are chairless" or "Once you go pink eye, you never get the stink eye."
I know all the popular phrases.
Another clue that she isn't your date is maybe she's conscious and doesn't seem to be drugged. Stupid prude albino.
So far I think this is going swimmingly. I especially liked the part about hating jazz because I really do and if that makes me eligible for some kind of humanitarian honesty award than so be it. I have to free your mind so the rest will follow. Also along the same lines as jazz are people who whistle all the effing time. I know I just talked about this like a couple weeks ago, but that same guy is whistling all the time, and I can hear him no matter where I am in the building and he seems to get especially worked up whenever he hears "Marquitaville" or any of the vast catalog of a Mr. William Joel, who I also feel sucks like he's got cock coming out of his ears. (Wait. What?)
Seriously, if I had to choose between a room of Billy Joel music all the time or a room filled with angry bees who only like to sting handsome people whose names start with "K", I would choose the bees, because in this "Lady and the Tiger" scenario, Angry bees are the lady and Billy Joel is the tiger. I would throw down my coat so the bees wouldn't have to step in a mud puddle is my point. And I would tie a flaming branch to Billy Joel's tail so he would get scared and run away and I would be in the background laughing and shrieking "Sing THIS a song, Piano Man!!" and I'd be pointing at my junk and doing a swirly hip move like "invisible hula" and then I'd probably get motion sick and need to sit down for a while. But that's okay, because Billy Joel will never get his filthy paws on Mowgli now.
Maybe I do need to plan these out a little better. I went back and re-read this and I feel like someone just cracked me in the puss with a frying pan.
Heh. "cracked me in the puss." Heh.