Two things I learned during a half hour of used television that I may or may not have napped through 40 percent of;
- There are multiple meanings of Panty Hamster, none of which have anything to do with Richard Gere.
- I have always gotten two songs I don’t like confused, the one that goes ‘Hello, is it me your looking for ‘ and ‘Hello, it’s me, I’ve thought about it for a long long time’.
In my mind the latter half of number two (above referenced, not the childish euphemism for shitting), always ends there — Hello it’s me, I’ve thought about it for a long long time — my memory squeks and slides and I try to keep the tune and continue with — yes, I’ve checked and I’m pretty sure it’s me. Existential silliness to pop music, next to something like a baked potatoe with sour cream topped with grape jelly it’s the happiest of surpising incongruity.
Ok, so I don’t get out much, I can power nap through a sit com and still pull salient things from it. Ok, so I stretch the definition of salient, there are starving kids in Biafra who can’t even pronounce salient. Hmmm, I’m sure there are more popular places to be starving these days; I don’t get out much.
Hamsters may mostly be enslaved (I’ve never seen one in the wild, but I’m guessing feral hamster have a rough and short life) and are not afforded many opprotunities (e.g. the obvious omission but strongly implied piece of ‘Any kid in America can grow up to be president …’ except hamster kids. Though, honestly, I think Bush Junior forged his species papers. I’m not saying he’s part hamster, but there’s a lot of rodentia to that guy). But, and I’m talking wide majestic Watts Butt, how fucking cool would it be to have your own running wheel?
Of course being mistaken for a gerbil would suck and the guys in the lab coats don’t care if you are a hamster, gerbil, mouse, rat, Guiana pig (they have the best agents) or claimed last you knew some pretty Russian waif was dropping a ruffie in your vernors and … aww shit, I lost myself in my own run on sentence. I’ve been doing that ever since they dropped herpes simplex in my eyes — the rats all got terrible neurological problems and died. Never eye fuck a white coat with herpes. Half of this paragraph is based on actual events that I read somewhere once.
I am smoking Banana’s foster flavored e-juice out of an over sized mechanical mod run by a 26650 35amp battery. Thing weighs two and a half pounds and makes clouds of smoke. Don’t judge me; I’ll cop a plea. In my smaller mech mod (run by an 18650 at 20A and something like 3200 mah) I’m smoking german chocolate beefcake, that’s the name, I think they just liked saying beef, it just tastes like chocolate and coconut. That hefty little mech mod has a locking mechanism based on the zodiac. It was kind of a bitch to set up, you have to take it apart and line of the small pins to get it to unlock at your sign. In reviews it seems a lot of people had trouble. It’s weird because the trend for beyond-novice vapers is rebuildable atomizers; it involves making tiny springs stuffed with cotton and hitching them to tiny pos/neg posts. It’s like fixing watchs except if you screw up a watch it doesn’t tell time right, screw this up and it’s like licking a battery with hot grease on it. Sure you can get little Ohm meters with 510 posts, but, jesus, that’s like work.
Of course I had to try doing that and when I finally got it working right I discovered the experience was neither better nor less expensive and so what is the point? I mean there are certain meals I cook so that they taste better than a resturants and if I’m feeding enough people it’s a lot less expensive. I used to rebuild my own touring bikes, the modifications were less expensive for me to make than to pay someone for and the long haul biking experience was enhanced. RBA’s (rebuidable atomizers) seem to be for the guy or gal who just wants to tinker with shit, and, don’t get me wrong, sometimes I just like to tinker with shit, but I’m more like a kid; just because I take your alarm clock apart to learn how it works does not mean I know how to put it back together. In general I am not good at building shit; I have a good eye for form and a general idea for function and with super glue or duct tape I make anything, including a hamster, go for that last hail Mary run, but beyond that …
I’m sorry. That isn’t remotely true. I do not know how to repair a hamster. I should not be allowed near tools of any kind. I can do a lot of things with duct tape and super glue; not good things. It is true that I can cook well; I don’t use duct tape or super-glue in any recipes though I think at least one is a staple in
Tex Mex (funny, using glue as a staple when you could use real staples). I kid. I don’t like Tex Mex. I don’t like Cal Mex either. I like Mexican food. I know no one has coined Cal Mex, but I’m sure y’all know what I mean. I still find myself going to restaurants with some frequency, I don’t have to clean anything up and people bring me things. Back when I smoked and was allowed to in restaurants I went to restaurants even more frequently and hung out longer.
I miss my little street taco cart. Around the time I was leaving Oregon there was a trend towards food cart villas — um I’m sure there’s a better name for that, but sort of like Malls of portable resturants. I don’t know how that affected my little lone middle of nowhere special taco cart. I can’t make better street tacos than those for less money and they had this salsa verde that was both spicy and creamy and pretended not to understand the question ‘How do you make this?’ or sell it by the gallon so it could be reverse engineered.
Ok. I made this entry myself out of duct tape and panty hamsters. Whatever you think a panty hamster is, you’re right. Good luck and I hope you find what you are looking for be nice and I’m spent.
Loading comments...