Penis for lunch

Funny stuff… Someone in Boston found out how to change a construction sign to say “Penis for lunch”,2933,290397,00.html

Families or not… It made me laugh. I’m sure it brightened someone’s day in Boston…it would have made my day better. Hell, just reading about it did.

News… The Family Values show was a lot of fun. Tyler and I always seem to run into fun and interesting people when we go to concerts. “You! SMOKE CRACK!” One drunk guy said to someone as he walked by us. Ty and I didn’t stop laughing for about 10 minutes. I didn’t mosh as much as I would have liked to due to some gigantic men. This one guy looked like a replica of the giant bald guy who gets stabbed in a really cool way by The Pitt in the movie Troy. With such terrifying guys in the pits, I didn’t feel the risk was worth it….we witnessed too many elbows to the face, dropped crowd surfers, and face-plants into the cement floor….

I’m still trying to figure out a time to go to Eau Claire to get my key, measure my room, and move stuff in. Again, Kriesel and I might go this weekend. I’d like to, but we’ll see.

I’m also about half way through The Goblet Of Fire.

I wish I had written Harry Potter… Rowling is richer than God after this book (not to mention there are still 2 more movies to go). Plus I wouldn’t mind being the creator of such a world. It’s neat.

New writing anyone? You? No? Too bad.
I wrote this….. well…. lately. Haha. It still needs to be worked out. It’s got a knotty and dodgy back. Sort of like me 😉

It’s from the west I come calling,
for bushy tails,
toucan laughs,
and for the heart of Beautiful Youth.
I stroll through crowded malls,
my briefcase-bomb hand-cuffed to my heart.

Clothed in university sweats,
my hypocrisy blows even my own mind.
No holy book for me;
I’m enthralled by fantasy.
Minions and foes fighting the iron clad for freedom.
Places where children fly and no one even knows what sex is.
Places where beauty is unimaginable,
except for what I see,
and women heal bloodied souls from a wicked man’s reckless fists.

It’s from the attic I startle you at night,
masked and drinking Coca-Cola.
Please cut the lime and bring my slippers.
But a father protects his daughter from all things suspect…
And his sons swing baseball bats,
trying to achieve the breathless glory of an unheard avalanche.

And so I see them,
crawling from the desert sheets,
screaming like pornography.
Their teeth ache and they can’t see past their own false facades.
Shoes tied together,
they reach for a mother,
a god,
a lover … which ever comes first.

And I just stand there watching as they come out empty handed.
It’s not what I was looking for, but it will do

Anyways…I should be working on my local government story for my online class. It’s over soon!
I can’t wait. This class is everything I DON’T want to do in Journalism! UGH!

With Love and most of everything else…
The Middle One


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