sporadic fulfilment

dick on a stick

today marks my first (& almost definitely only) encounter with the abomination known as the fried & battered hotdog-on-a-stick. because i make a point of trying everything they serve in the caf to make sure i hate living here as much as possible, i grabbed one of the more burnt ones, smeared mayonnaise on it to reinforce the penis-similarity, & choked it down with a glass of soda; i normally never drink soda .

there's a loud, rhythmic banging coming from the wall dividing my room from the one next door (there's elevators on the other side). i don't know if she's got a 'friend' over or if she's complaining about my music. everybody else seems to have a stereo anyways, while all i have are the built-in speakers in my puny laptop. i know next to nothing about music but i can identify every single song my floormates blast out of their state of the art sound systems (lots of beastie boys, u2, green day & similar mainstream radio-fodder)...sad, ennit?

posted by malachi trizec @ 2:07 p.m.