Monday, September 11, 2006

Green Shoes Don't Make It

At 1:40 in the afternoon a Chinese man walked from the court house down 16th street. He stopped in the bank to make a hefty withdrawl--the amount was not idenetified. Slinking, in a sneaky, manner past the grease trunks and news stands on Chestnut St. the Chinaman ducked into Liberty Place and made a quick right into Nine West. At this location the Chinaman purchased a pair of $250 green suede loaffers. Exiting Nine West the Chinaman sat at a bench in the court area, removed his cracked, black, leather shoes (if such decrepid footwair could be so called) and applied the newly bought items. The Chinaman exited Liberty Place through the same doors by which he entered. My first suspicion was that the Chinaman was a homosexual who lived a heterosexual lifestyle; he probably had a wife and two children at home, he would be expected to come home at night after work, but the daytime was his to troll about for rough sex with giant, bald men and perhaps a small boy or two.
My initial suspicions proved to be justified as i pursuied him to Samson St. where he entered the Oyster House. I figured the Chinaman, mistaking the always respectable Oyster House for the notorious Blue Oyster Club in Police Academy, came in to look for some male anus to impale while busying his dirty yellow hands with other unthinkable activities, perhaps torturing small animals. This was the only reasonable conclusion I could come to; it's disgusting what some people will do on a Thurs. afternoon at 15th and Samson. To further confirm my theory of homosexual tendencies the Chinaman ordered himself a nice little Cosompolitan (it's a wellknown fact that only homosexuals, and my father, drink cosmopolitans) and examined a Philly Weekly.
Finding no suitable mates the Chinaman finishes his drink and hits the street again. I followed the man further on his nefarious (at least probably nefarious travels) to Juniper where, on the corner of Juniper and Drury, amidst the bustling crowd of businessmen, the Chinaman dropped a Blockbuster Video membership card. At the risk of it smelling like stale, homosexual semen, i picked up the card and looked at the name, James Smith. It was clear to me that this Chinaman came to this country while still poor, too por in fact to afford a proper name. Once he came to the U.S. and properly established himself he bought a nice American name that he could be proud of.
Having spent too much concentration on the deciphering the conundrum of this villian's name I hardly noticed James Smith turn around and walk back the opposite way until he nearly ran into me. With a sly 180 degree turn on my left foot (a little trick I learned in my Thurs. line dancing class) I coyly resumed my chase.
The Chinaman, leading me up and down various alleys finally stopped at the Ritz Carlton. He stopped out front and stood, as if waiting for a cab. He even held is arm up and waved at passing cabbies to make the rouse more convincing...but i knew better.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

Should I put this on the desk? Do i need to buy any books? Are we gonna have a midterm? Do i care about neighborhoods? Should I drop this class? What about Dreamweaver? Am i gonna have to know about that? Wait..what's dreamweaver again? Are we gonna get an hour for lunch every class? What the hell does she want me to write on this blog? I am i supposed to wearing this tee shirt? Should i write on it with a sharpie or an ink pen? Do i have any more sharpies? Did that douch bag take my last sharpie? Fuck...he did.