Friday, February 18, 2005
DOGGED
From Jonathan Carrol's blog: Be the person your dog thinks you are.
In my dog's case, I'll be the-creature-on-two-legs-who-scratches-my-tummy-whenever-I-roll-over-to-have-it-scratched.
So.
Anyone want a tummy rub?
In my dog's case, I'll be the-creature-on-two-legs-who-scratches-my-tummy-whenever-I-roll-over-to-have-it-scratched.
So.
Anyone want a tummy rub?
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
STATIC-FREE
Dropped by Anti-Static's office to... um... sniff around (heheh), when, lo and behold! I meet the man himself as I waited for the elevator ride to their floor.
It was pure serendipity, for had I not gotten off at the wrong side of Buendia, I would have been there earlier, and would have missed his arrival by minutes.
We managed to exhange vital info in the span of two cigs at his awesome nicotine perch 26 floors above the pavement (that spot makes for prime duskwatching, I tell ya).
And while no debris fell as he spoke about the wonders of his world, my jaw sure did.
It was pure serendipity, for had I not gotten off at the wrong side of Buendia, I would have been there earlier, and would have missed his arrival by minutes.
We managed to exhange vital info in the span of two cigs at his awesome nicotine perch 26 floors above the pavement (that spot makes for prime duskwatching, I tell ya).
And while no debris fell as he spoke about the wonders of his world, my jaw sure did.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
SOUND THE ALARMS
Several alarms went off in my head the moment she strolled into Congo Grill last Saturday night.
The type of alarms that are tripped by a pretty face. A delicously creamy complexion. Flowing, raven hair. A fine figure. A mean tribal tatoo peeking out between the back of a little black shirt and straight-cut jeans.
I was with Souljacker that night. Beer, cigs and whatever it was we were talking about were all forgotten as we both fell silent out of sheer awe.
Then.
A different alarm went off when I saw her three companions.
She was on a double date.
And she had a girlfriend.
The type of alarms that are tripped by a pretty face. A delicously creamy complexion. Flowing, raven hair. A fine figure. A mean tribal tatoo peeking out between the back of a little black shirt and straight-cut jeans.
I was with Souljacker that night. Beer, cigs and whatever it was we were talking about were all forgotten as we both fell silent out of sheer awe.
Then.
A different alarm went off when I saw her three companions.
She was on a double date.
And she had a girlfriend.
