Americans,
claude le monde no networks, no nukes, not notcakes
how we do: + you are # |
12:19 pm | 08 April 2003 | down with love, pt. 2 A year-and-a-half ago, I was driving with my then-boyfriend and another friend through the Southwest, from Los Angeles to Oklahoma, where we had a show (this was during the brief period wherein i fancied myself a performance poet, which no. I hate being in front of people, and also i hate the really "slammy" shit that gets your average college blockhead all hyped up. Anyway). It was a weird trip. The BF and i were arguing all the time over stupid shit (like HBO), and we also passed The Largest Cross in the World. Our travelling companion was stoned most of the time. During one of the periods of non-arguing, all three of us got into a conversation about love and trust, and i was saying something about the frequency with which boyfriends have cheated on me--one time only, apiece, since i don't play that shit, but cumulatively it was a lot (this is also ironic because in Oklahoma i would find out that the then-BF had made out with some blonde girl in Colorado while we were going out, which is why he's an ex). But i didn't know any of that then. What i knew was that we all seemed to be on the same page vis-a-vis love and fidelity. Then our friend, pushing thirty, proceeded to make the following profound statement: Then we got to Oklahoma and our friend cheated on his girlfriend (who was back home waitressing to pay their rent while he toured around) with an emaciated 19-year-old blonde co-ed. Again, boys are fucking retards. That is all. clm. Also, here's today's "Heh heh, i'm in third grade" quote of the day: "Unlike other varieties, there's no smokiness or sweetness to these small, young balls, just simple, straightforward heat." -from a review of Indonesian "lampong" peppercorns, Epicurious.com unless otherwise noted, all work contained herein is � claudia sherman, 2002-04. |