25 May 2006
Hello My Name Is Frank
Frank is my name and I like to party. I enjoy stalking Ukrainians and finding new uses for potted meat, post apocalypse.
I love dreaming and drawing pictures of my dreams about Heather Locklear and selling them on streets and in bars. My number one fantasy right now requires Jamaica and underwater lubricant. My number one pet peeve is dog hair growing from my underarms. Oh wait, that is only the dog’s hair somehow caught in my armpit. How strange.
In search of new adventures I have never met a new culture I did not want to dance with. I have shaken my stick at so many foreigners I do not even know how I have done it. I wonder what would happen if I remembered all of the love dances I shook my booty to simultaneously? Would my brain boil to a stew in my cranium bowl?
But how now brown cow? What will be done if we do not vanquish the insipid true believers who infect our fair world? We must gird our loins fellow life lovers and wage war on these hideous apparitions who seek to spook us into believing in ghosts and other illusions.
But mostly I enjoy pork and beans. Bacon and beans are good, but have you tried baked beans with pork tenderloin and fresh cracked peppercorn? Lordy, Lordy, I am waiting for somebody to invent a sandwich with baked beans, pickles and spicy pulled pork.
Sorry I think about food too much. I should be thinking about politics, or sex or sexual politics of the postmodern capitalist. Alas I am but Frank. My religion is life; my goal is right now. If you are a life degrader I will surreptitiously pee on your car door handle (yes driver’s side.)
But if you too know that the secret of life is right now then let’s get off this darn blog and go somewhere and do like they did in “Nine ½ Weeks” and sneak into an abandoned stairwell and freakdiddlydo like only Mickey Rourke and Kim Basinger could.
But I just want to look at one more blog. OK. One more blog. I want to look at the one about where the crazy dog bites your face off and then you laugh and scare small children as the person with no face.
As that song used to sing: “Oh, Oh, The Israelites…”
#
I love dreaming and drawing pictures of my dreams about Heather Locklear and selling them on streets and in bars. My number one fantasy right now requires Jamaica and underwater lubricant. My number one pet peeve is dog hair growing from my underarms. Oh wait, that is only the dog’s hair somehow caught in my armpit. How strange.
In search of new adventures I have never met a new culture I did not want to dance with. I have shaken my stick at so many foreigners I do not even know how I have done it. I wonder what would happen if I remembered all of the love dances I shook my booty to simultaneously? Would my brain boil to a stew in my cranium bowl?
But how now brown cow? What will be done if we do not vanquish the insipid true believers who infect our fair world? We must gird our loins fellow life lovers and wage war on these hideous apparitions who seek to spook us into believing in ghosts and other illusions.
But mostly I enjoy pork and beans. Bacon and beans are good, but have you tried baked beans with pork tenderloin and fresh cracked peppercorn? Lordy, Lordy, I am waiting for somebody to invent a sandwich with baked beans, pickles and spicy pulled pork.
Sorry I think about food too much. I should be thinking about politics, or sex or sexual politics of the postmodern capitalist. Alas I am but Frank. My religion is life; my goal is right now. If you are a life degrader I will surreptitiously pee on your car door handle (yes driver’s side.)
But if you too know that the secret of life is right now then let’s get off this darn blog and go somewhere and do like they did in “Nine ½ Weeks” and sneak into an abandoned stairwell and freakdiddlydo like only Mickey Rourke and Kim Basinger could.
But I just want to look at one more blog. OK. One more blog. I want to look at the one about where the crazy dog bites your face off and then you laugh and scare small children as the person with no face.
As that song used to sing: “Oh, Oh, The Israelites…”
#
