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| NEW POST!!!!
Xanga is dead but I left off at kinda a lame emo moment. There
are much better ways to bough out. I am currently at UO, and NOT
doing cocaine nor other activities that made high school loopy despite
what the profile pic conjours.
hahah i am failing at architecture, but that is ok. History
becons me now and I am going to be that guy.. with a smoking jacket...
and a pipe... saying quite. Hot I know...
I really miss a lot of people from westview that I alienated/ignored in
my final time in portland. So yeah, i am no longer crazy emo tom.
It is the slightly more mature and friendly Tom so drop me a line on my
cellular or aim: ProprPropaganda.
Also, to everyone in high school still, enjoy your time in high school,
but college is really bomb. Freedom, drinking, indoor slip and
slides!!!! mothafucka, what more would a person ask for. Have a
nice day everyone
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| battle of the bands, maple syrup and soy bomb
thanks to ryan for keepin it sexy
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| Back from Lake Tahoe aka. Caucasia (it really does exist!):
Airport trips:
6:00 the alarm went off. The glorious trip to heavenly was over,
reality setting in with a flaming kick to the crotch. We traveled
down the elevator, and a saw a being stumbling around blindly
declaring: Still humping the amercican dream are yeah? the used
car salesmen at the slots looked up long enough only to let their
crusted marble eyes flake and glimer asking for help. Imagine
that, living like fucking dolphins...
Rental cars are ment to be ruined. running from median to median we
are accelerating, fully knowing what speeeeeed was. as we back out, we
narroly miss the hummer, yelling
"fuck the world" as we pass by, for we truely know what is
valued. The airport looms. If the devil came up and shit
out death and pestalince, it would be the airport.
The drivers eyes glint with stedfast renewal, stamming on about the
"looming storm" and how "this fucker is going to BloW!" this
problem, this bastard of a storm, looks to foil our wonderfully
prepackaged trip plans, but we are a whilely bunch and hop to it like
the bunnies we are.
We wearily sit down, the neibors loudly talking about how fackin
hUUUUge their new golf clubs are. Carbon shaft, 350 cc head, if
this thing was a house it would be the taj+whitehouse. They jack
each-other off verbally for a while, forcing me to search frantically
for the headphone jack. Music to cover the comercial orgy going
on in front of me.
The airline likes to fuck with you. They challenge you,
test you, and some people bend over and take it without question.
flip-flops are not a threat to corn, nevermind obesity. so upon
finding the jack, i see that it is two pronged.
Maybe i am mistaken, but that is neo-nazi, death camping at it's
best. My head thudded to the sound of the airplane exes/club
wackers/plastic attendents all trying to find what truely defines their
life.
-the end-
the trip was awesome. it was a homage to a great man, duke raoul
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