So whenever this extended adage about a plumber turns into a contriage1 that really leaves me waiting for a joke about the new cost, both moral and practical, of laying pipe...
Or whenever some girl in knee socks and short shorts sits outside my apartment and cries so I'll feel morally obligated to say "hey, is everything alright?" only to run further down the alley and into the adjacent apartment building...
Or whenever I suffer through the Astro-Stat class that already doesn't make any sense, only now it's cold AND confusing because apparently someone or some computer program is worried about a heatwave in October...
Or reading Shakespeare...
Or complimenting some dude on his shiny shirt, apparently for the sole purpose of prompting him to laugh at me...
Or when I suddenly feel inclined to explain things to friends and family with truth tables and sentence atoms...
Or figuring out, through trial and error, that Brown really does want my writing sample mailed to them and not submitted electronically, because their website will only accept one file per portion of application...
I think of you, Tom Cruise. I think of how you broke my heart and I cry.
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1I am 99.9% sure I just made this word up.
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2 comments:
What the fuck, Elliot?
Tom Cruise is a robot, incapable of feeling remorse. I mean, the guy's jeans looks like they'd cut through steel, you know? A heart of stone, and all that.
On a brighter note (!), you've been awarded with the "Beautiful Blog" award! Check out my latest post for details. (I know...it totally makes the whole Tom Cruise thing easier to swallow, doesn't it?)
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