I had a vision for this Sunday morning breakfast. I wanted to fry up some potatoes, get them crispy, then fry up some eggs, and dip the crispy potatoes into soft egg yolk. But the potatoes didn't fry. Instead, they got mushy in the frying pan (?) and the egg yolks popped when they dropped into the pan. So I mixed it all together and now the pound of starch grinds in my stomach like a pile of shit. Falling short, in a big way.
I want firearms, so I can let off steam off the back porch when things get out of hand. Like botched breafasts. For those of you who don't know, I take great pride in breakfasts. Not any more. I'm never making breafast again.
I get so irritated lately. Maybe this means I should go to my friendly neighborhood dealer. I really want a gun. Or a hot bike ride. But it's fucking winter, and there are no leaves to appreciate.
Posted by matty-b at January 18, 2004 10:46 AM