Sat out in the sunshine on a perfect 72-degree day. Had a couple of beers on Broadway, met up with Radigan, moved on to Cantina for more beers, and one explosive hot sauce encounter that had me reaching blindly with quaking hands for my inhaler, and worse—a glass of water.
Tying a plaid shirt around my waist took me back to ’95 with a quickness. [All the kids are doing it.] And the summer I spent playing around with my best friend Laney on my brother’s new cube-tastic PC, which had a program similar to a Speak n Spell that let you type
really obscene phrases foreign phrases and spoke them back to you to help with pronunciation. I coined my own personal slogan that summer, rife with alliteration. Recite this aloud slowly, in a robotic voice, and you’ve got a snapshot into hours of that summer spent wiping away tears of laughter.
Cats Can Cause Catastrophes When Their Little Pink Anuses Open Up And Burp.
It’s cool; my mom doesn’t think I’m normal, either.
Late in the game on this song, but don’t care. It’s totally my mood lately. I’m just gonna rewind to age 15 and stay there for awhile.
[30 Seconds to Mars, “Kings and Queens”]