To Vomit the Undigestible

Saturday, December 20, 2008

'it'sallaboutthehesaidshesaidbullshit' -LB

Dear K,
This is what he said:
Sean: "I thought about what you said to me the other day, about my painting. I stayed up half the night thinking about it. Something occurred to me. I fell into a deep peaceful sleep. I haven't thought about you since. Do you know what occurred to me? You're just a kid. You don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about."

Dear D,
This is what they said,
Will: You ever heard the saying any port in the storm?
Sean: Yeah.
Will: Maybe that means you.
Sean: In what way?
Will: Maybe you're in the middle of a storm a big fucking storm. The skies falling on your head. The waves are crashing over your little boat. The ores are about to snap. You're just pissing your pants. You're crying for the harbor. So, maybe you did what you got to do to get out. You know maybe you became a psychologist.
Sean: Bingo that's it. Let me do my job now.
Will: Maybe you married the wrong woman.
Sean: Maybe you should watch your mouth. Watch it right there chief all right.
Will: That's it isn't it? You married the wrong woman. What happened? What she leave you? Was she, ya know banging some other guy?
Sean: If you ever disrespect my wife again I will end you. I will fucking end you! Got that chief?
Will: Times up.
Sean: Yeah.

And the rest is :

Sean: You don't know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you dared to love anybody that much.

Customer: Cute cat. What's his name?
Randal Graves: Annoying customer.
Customer: [grabs pack of cigarettes] Fuckin' dickhead.


Chewlies Gum Representative: "You're spending what? Twenty, thirty dollars a week on cigarettes... Fifty-three dollars. Would you pay someone that much money every week to kill you? Because that's what you're doing now, by paying for the so-called privilege to smoke!... It's that kind of mentality that allows this cancer-producing industry to thrive. Of course we're all going to die someday, but do we have to pay for it? Do we actually have to throw hard-earned dollars on a counter and say, "Please, please, Mr. Merchant of Death, sir; please sell me something that will give me bad breath, stink up my clothes, and fry my lungs... Of course it's not that easy to quit; not when you have people like this mindless cretin so happy and willing to sell you nails for your coffin... Now he's going to launch into his rap about how he's just doing his job; following orders. Friends, let me tell you about another bunch of hate mongers that were just following orders; they were called Nazis, and they practically wiped a nation of people from the Earth... just like cigarettes are doing now! Cigarette smoking is the new Holocaust, and those that partake in the practice of smoking or selling the wares that promote it are the Nazis of the Nineties! He doesn't care how many people die from it! He smiles as you pay for your cancer sticks and says, "Have a nice day."


Arresting Officer: Sir, could I please see your license?
Pedro: Whuut?
Arresting Officer: Your license. Where's your license?
Pedro: It's back there on the bumper, man!
Arresting Officer: No, I mean your DRIVER'S license.
Pedro: Oh yeah, I got the bullshit back here man...
[gets license with great difficulty]
Pedro: Hey I thought'a somethin' really funny, man... Your mother!
Arresting Officer: [after dirty look, of course] Sir, what's your name?
Pedro: uuhhh... Isn't in on the license, man? Yeah, that's it! Pedro De Pacas, man, that's my name...


Border Guard: So, how long you've been in Mexico?
Pedro: A week. I mean a day.
Border Guard: Well, which is it? A week or a day?
Pedro: A weekday


Sgt. Stedenko: Now just how well do you know that freak with the basketball?
Unknown: Which basketball?
Sgt. Stedenko: Which basketball?


Post a Comment

Post Link Page:

Create a Link

<< Home