Renzatic on 14/6/2009 at 05:21

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For what it's worth, you've led a blessed life.

I remember one unfortunate decision I made a couple years back. It was a busy day, and I hadn't had time to get a single thing to eat. 12:30 rolls around, and my stomach is going garRARgafrrnrarn...mrarm from lack of sustanance. There's nothing quick I could make in the fridge, so I do what, at the time, seemed like the best idea. TACO BELL. Yeah. I ain't ever doing that again. Chewing cold chicken wrapped in a stale tortilla, spitting out old rice like freaking damn BBs ain't my idea of a good meal. Starving as I was, I refused to eat it. In fact, I drove back and got a refund.

I learned two lessons that night. 1. Never eat at Taco Bell, and 2. Never trust a teenager with greasy hair and 15 facial piercings to cook your food.

That scenario was one of the many things that made a man out of me.

Kolya on 14/6/2009 at 06:31

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When I changed the school I had to take extra music lessons. My music teacher was a good man who would play Hey Jude to us and rhapsodize about the recording while we discussed our fellow pupil's bust sizes in the back. He got me a music student to teach me privately. She lived in a big house in the suburb with a pool in the yard surrounded by neoclassic statuettes. I was a punkrock kid but she was very much upper class with her clean blonde ponytail and her healthy skin under her summer skirt. Every time I got there she would ask me if we should move the piano out on the patio or go upstairs. The first time I went for the piano on the patio by the pool option. We sat next to each other on that tiny bench. She played something for me and tried to teach me reading music. She had very delicate hands. When she played the sounds came out easily and soft, the beginning of some melody that wafted through my ears and head. But when I tried to play it sounded like a percussion drill on the clavier. Then she smiled and asked me to lay my hand on top of hers while she played again. I tried to follow her fingers but I was hopelessly clumsy. Her hand felt like a bird in mine that could easily escape.

I never got much better in reading music. Eventually my good teacher gave it up and proposed a deal to me: He gave me a decent grade if I changed to painting next year. It was only after I had left the classroom that I realized I would not see her again.

Queue on 15/6/2009 at 14:09

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She pressed her ample bosom hard against the chalkboard, erasing the day's lesson--causing much consternation the next morning for Mickey McDaniel.
"Discipline me," she said, gruff and commanding. "Discipline me like the cheater I am."
Chalk dust and rubber bands scattered across the desk's surface.

ZylonBane on 15/6/2009 at 17:31

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I repeat: WTF is wrong with you?

june gloom on 16/6/2009 at 22:04

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don't you mean reacharound robin