It's in the Mix, It's in the Deep Stuff
"I can't think of a state we didn't send them to," said Cecchini, who now goes by the name Byron Calvert because he said he likes the name Byron better than Bryant and because he wants to shed his Italian stepfather's surname.
From the article linked to by B.O.R.T. Mexicans cannot, in fact, lead your Nazi gang; it just doesn't work. I was unable for some reason to post comments to that post. Fuckin' blogger.com. It is a benefit for all, and a benefit to mention, that old Bryant will now be called Byron. Because it just sounds better, especially when proceeded by Calvert.
In regard to the previous post by me, mentioning the magician, I will attempt to scan the picture at some point and add it on. It makes the story all the better.
While the mix has been deliciously boring and confusing lately, I still got my fix of organization today. I took a trip to a steel fabrication plant about 30 minutes outside of Madison. As soon as I found out about this trip, I knew what to expect: a thirty minute ride of awkwardness. And awkward it was... indeed. I actually talked to this girl about some issues for an assignment in class (very deep conversation about interesting beam theory (add sarcasm as needed). B.O.R.T. also knows this girl, as we knocked down a few pins together in St. Paul last spring. The other passengers included a guy with a pony tail that stares at people in class and gets great noticeable satisfaction from asking "good" questions in class, a girl that, as is evident by all the shirts she wears, went to Notre Dame and was definitely in the trumpet section (proud, silent), a Westpoint grad that's older with kids and loves NASCAR radio (names kept anonymous, that and I don't know them). The combination was utter disgusting horror as I entered the mini-van at the hour of 8 am. At one point said girl decides to change station, which I am all for. This was made clear by a sparkle and twinkle in my eye. However, my inner-light was soon extinguished by country music... "Red, white and blue, where the eagle flies," or some shit like that. We all know that country music represents the symbol of "patriotism" and looks to crush the people like me who have become societie's pariah. At this time, I realized that my liking a person is 68% based on whether or not they enjoy neo-country music. Notice that I say "neo" because the whole country music scene did develop out of despair and actual genuine reflection on this. Now they're just total fucking idiots, poster-people, and messengers for things they can't even comprehend. Such is the way of the world though. In the thirty minute journey, I made several realizations and questioned my destiny to a certain extent. Maybe in my thinking of how I don't want my character to develop, I am actually developing into a selfish bastard cynic. On the other hand, that's exactly what I think they are, with the exception of the word cynic, which can be replaced with the word dullard. The point is I don't know if I can take it, so I'm looking to move in with you and live vicariously through you and your kin. It's sooo much easier. Good day.
From the article linked to by B.O.R.T. Mexicans cannot, in fact, lead your Nazi gang; it just doesn't work. I was unable for some reason to post comments to that post. Fuckin' blogger.com. It is a benefit for all, and a benefit to mention, that old Bryant will now be called Byron. Because it just sounds better, especially when proceeded by Calvert.
In regard to the previous post by me, mentioning the magician, I will attempt to scan the picture at some point and add it on. It makes the story all the better.
While the mix has been deliciously boring and confusing lately, I still got my fix of organization today. I took a trip to a steel fabrication plant about 30 minutes outside of Madison. As soon as I found out about this trip, I knew what to expect: a thirty minute ride of awkwardness. And awkward it was... indeed. I actually talked to this girl about some issues for an assignment in class (very deep conversation about interesting beam theory (add sarcasm as needed). B.O.R.T. also knows this girl, as we knocked down a few pins together in St. Paul last spring. The other passengers included a guy with a pony tail that stares at people in class and gets great noticeable satisfaction from asking "good" questions in class, a girl that, as is evident by all the shirts she wears, went to Notre Dame and was definitely in the trumpet section (proud, silent), a Westpoint grad that's older with kids and loves NASCAR radio (names kept anonymous, that and I don't know them). The combination was utter disgusting horror as I entered the mini-van at the hour of 8 am. At one point said girl decides to change station, which I am all for. This was made clear by a sparkle and twinkle in my eye. However, my inner-light was soon extinguished by country music... "Red, white and blue, where the eagle flies," or some shit like that. We all know that country music represents the symbol of "patriotism" and looks to crush the people like me who have become societie's pariah. At this time, I realized that my liking a person is 68% based on whether or not they enjoy neo-country music. Notice that I say "neo" because the whole country music scene did develop out of despair and actual genuine reflection on this. Now they're just total fucking idiots, poster-people, and messengers for things they can't even comprehend. Such is the way of the world though. In the thirty minute journey, I made several realizations and questioned my destiny to a certain extent. Maybe in my thinking of how I don't want my character to develop, I am actually developing into a selfish bastard cynic. On the other hand, that's exactly what I think they are, with the exception of the word cynic, which can be replaced with the word dullard. The point is I don't know if I can take it, so I'm looking to move in with you and live vicariously through you and your kin. It's sooo much easier. Good day.
posted by fiestawizard at 12:07 PM
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