ardent bullshit comes down every faultline gushing heavily into jest kindly luscious melons nodding openly post quakes resting still to undermind various wonderous xylophones yawning zealously

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Take on anything that comes before you

Well, plan was to sit down & post a light, airy account of a fantastic holiday weekend. It turned out great. Wednesday night, Alison, Connor & I watched Rosemary's Baby, which was hilarious. Run, don't walk, to the video store & check this out if you haven't already. Talk about some dark humor. Thursday, I stuffed myself silly at mommy's with some of the best turkey ever, after a terrific jog in the woods (Edan is fantastic for running hill sprints). Come Friday, the weekend got even better with a visit with Da Bro to daddy's place down south. Ian & I laughed, laughed, laughed the whole way, making silly jokes, drinking entirely too much Red Bull & catching up on what was going on with life. As usual, dad didn't dissappoint with even more laughing to the point of tears, conversations about the physics of billliards, zen & that we may or may not eat rice soup, depending on how much we effed up the recipe, which we didn't have in the first place.

If I were to put an instruction manual a place where I'd never find it again, where would that be?

The rest of the weekend included breakfast at Ann Sather's (mmmm....cinnamon rolls), gyros, discovering that Jimmy's is open until 3 on Saturday nights (dangerous!), decorating my little Christmas tree, putting lights on the balcony & making dinner for 5 outstanding companions. Upon Sunday evening, my little body was so worn out that it just stopped & I fell asleep at an uncharacteristically early hour. Same thing happened last night, too, basking in the light of a couple hundred white mini-lights.

If you can't find me at 2:15 on Saturday night, you now know a good bet.

Con & I are scheduled to go check out Dinosaur Jr tonight at the Metro. Despite the previous plan to get a headstart on the evening & check out The Ponies, plans came to an abrupt hault with the news that someone I know (now knew) killed himself today.

This was the 2nd young man that I've known to have taken his own life or overdosed in the last 6 months. Maybe I should erase his number from my cell phone.

I've yet to meet someone who doesn't have sad days. One of my favorite stories (paraphrased) is of the woman who lost a child & asked Buddha to bring her child back to life, as she had heard that he could do so. He said that he would upon her bringing him mustard seed from a home that had not seen sorrow. She found none & came back to Buddha to say she was now ready to accept.

In what situation, or events, may bring someone to feel that suicide is the only option?

This question I contemplate, sitting in black suitpants & a blue button-up shirt, in front of a glowing screen. The only answer I can come up with is that his life was so unbearable that no one else could understand & he was just too tired to go on. I also feel sad for him. Hopefully, his soul will now find peace.

I am going to now enjoy the embrace of life & the beauty & hardships it produces.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

Idle Hands

So I get to wait around a lot, which kind of sucks but oh well because then other times I'm super busy & totally swamped, right? Guess what. Today's a waiting day. Tra la la.


And I have to lock myself in the little office that I sit in that's part of a bigger office. Wanna know why? Because they're spraying this stuff on some of the windows, right? So that the windows get a nice frosted look so people can sleep in their offices. And I don't really know if I'm going to puke from it or not but definitely know that this is some powerful stuff. Woooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Actually, my head is thinking right this very instant of exploding. Kapow. First I thought it an ear & sinus infection because those come & visit my sad little head drainage stuffs all the time but then I thought. NO! It must be the bird flu. Avian Influenza sounds better & quite a bit more serious. Come on now, who's actually going to take 'bird flu' with any more than a grain of salt? But I guess it's some pretty serious stuff, yeah? So what if I really DID get the Bird flu? And I had like 23 hours to live? What is it that I really want to do? I can tell you that there would be a lot of really good food involved & possibly a prostitute. ha ha. Just kidding. I think buying a lot of presents would be in order, too, you know? And spending time with special people like my mom & schmale & neat-o jets. Just run around eating & buying things because when I die is when my life insurance kicks in & that would probably cover the money I would spend, right? But it wouldn't if I bought an island but why would I ever buy and island if I could never go to it? Oh! And love. I want to find true love for the last day I was to hypothetically be alive.

But how do we know we really are alive?

Where would one go about this? Where do you find love in a billions of people world? Love, actually. I know that lots of people say 'i love you' at bars but I really wouldn't have time for that & would probably just get drunk & forget about the whole love thing & totally pass out & miss the last day. Bar=no. People who are in love are always going to zoos & stuff. Walking around, holding hands & saying things like 'ooooo! look at the monkeys' & 'snakes are so elegant' & 'did you see the size of that turd that just came out of the elephant's ass?'. But you need to already be in love to go to the zoo. Lonely, sad, dying people don't hang out in zoos. Then I thought of who I already know that I could love & of course Conti came to mind. He's always putting things that he loves on Craigslist, like cages & his friend, Dean, & stuff & I thought. Oh wow! What a great idea! I could find love & a couch. So that's what I did. Couch=done deal. Just waiting for the love. So that's what's going to happen, I'm going to find love on Craigslist. Well, maybe not, but I will post the funny responses I get.

I think maybe I should get some fresh air.

Monday, November 21, 2005

Another Point of Note


here's another speech you wish i'd swallowed

you wanna make me sick you wanna lick my wounds don't ya baby

I guess I should expect no less. I felt hesitant, reserved, but figured what the hell, we're all grown & can handle ourselves. And you asked for it. We can also realize that a blog (see: silly online journal) is only a small portion of some events that happen in one's life. A sounding block. The ability to communicate with people who you may or may not know or ever meet or actually are who they say they are & who maybe have been in a similar situation & can help you out.

you feed the beast i have within me

Another way for me to doubt myself. Do I answer A or B? What if I answer it wrong. Will he still love me? Don't you think that somebody might get tired after a bit? Is that the point? Tire them until they can't stand it anymore? This test is over.

and when i think of it my fingers turn to fists i never did anything to you man

Wow, I express an opinion & you freak out. Oh no! Oh no! I'm going to pick up all of my toys & stomp home. You never supported in anyway other than how you wanted to or if the outcome was beneficial to you.

so call me crazy hold me down make me cry get off now baby

And all of those things that I wrote in the letter to Jaimie, they're all fucking true & you know it. Would you like me to add what else had been said? Love, huh? How great do you think I felt when you kept telling me that I was going to leave you? It wasn't because you had to go away, fuckpants, it was who you are. And then you have the audacity to continue to call & ask if I'm dating anyone. Are you masochistic? Have you ever even sat down & thought about that? MAYBE IT IS YOU. You were so goddamn concerned with losing me that you forgot how to keep me. And then you throw it into my face that you were right. Yeah. You were. Congratulations. You won a really...awesome...prize. Uh, yeah. I'm no where near perfect, do not strive to be anymore & wouldn't even want to be. I am who I am & I make mistakes & I realize other people do, too. You know, say dumb things & act in silly manners. And I understand that. Shit, I love people for their faults, because it makes them human. And I had shut up for quite some time but you kept pushing and pushing and pushing so here you go. 3 years later & I'm finally letting you have it. Sloppily, imperfectly, wearing a red face & a stern look. You wanted me to talk?

you fondle my trigger than you blame my gun

Here you go. Here's my salute. Here's my fuck you. I surely heard it enough coming out of your mouth. Just because I expressed an opinion that you didn't like & maybe I didn't always do what you thought that I should. Good luck with all of your fucking endeavors, you jackoff. I'm just glad I'm done.

p.s. spitting on your hand & rubbing it on your dick is NOT foreplay.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

I wanna love somebody

Love love love. A common subject.

I hear you need somebody to love

Yes, oh yes, I've fallen in love. And although I was slightly frightened before of it, I am now comfortable expressing this love. Connor. Darling Connor. You're so sweet and wonderful. You make me feel loved. You make me feel happy.


And since my last post about Connor I've gotten many questions. Namely, who's Connor? So I figured that I should clarify a tad. Connor is one of my two Friday Night Dates. Scandalous. So I thought of posting pictures so that you all know & can also love Connor.

He even chews up Steve Miller Band albums for me. (note to those who think SMB rocks, sorry to offend. em)

And I'm never gonna set you free. No, I'm never gonna set you free.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

I heart Linguists

Why on earth would you love stuffy, dissecting braniacs?

Because they're awesome.

And by awesome you mean boring?

Absolutely not. By awesome I mean awesome.


Tuesday night, 9:15 p.m., enter the secret underground campus bar. Seriously, there's an underground bar here. It's pretty snazzy. And by snazzy I mean it has Coors Light (woot woot!) for $1, pool, shuffleboard, everything's made of wood & a much better than average jukebox. La la la, I sat & awaited the arrival of one Divine Miss A. Turns out The Pub had Trivia Night.

If it's a temporary lull
why'm I bored right outta my skull?
Man, I'm dressin' sharp an' feelin' dull

Trivia Night is where a bunch of grad students sit in a basement bar & answer questions like...'who painted le homage to matisse, how much did it sell for last week, what's the significance' & 'what country contains these three cities (insert random cities I can't spell)' & wes anderson questions. It's funny & people get really into it. Miss A & I sat in the corner & talked modern psychotherapy. Mmmm...nothin' to spice up a night like modern psychotherapy!!

Isn't this supposed to be about linguists? Where the hell are these special linguist people?

After an hour or so we were joined by other linguists (by this I do not wish to imply that I am a linguist, only that there were linguists surrounding me). So what do we talk about? Naturally, linguistics. While one may feel that this could be a bit of a dull topic, quite the contrary. They showed me how to draw linguistic trees (see above) & we talked about the overlap of linguistics of psychology & linguistics & played some rocking music on the jukebox (after Trivia was over). Then I demostrated just how crazy nuts marketing is by profiling them & they were all 'woah, seriously, that's nuts & crazy' & I was all 'yep, you've been profiled & brainwashed your whole lives, sorry'. So I had this awesome cool night with a bunch of linguistics.

Waking up bright & chipper this morning I didn't think that life could get any better. THEN I FOUND THIS!!!!!!!!!!!! 'Ashlee Simpson continues her quest to become the most ridiculed celebrity ever when she slurs her way through a late night visit to McDonald's in Toronto.'

Also, I need some more houseplants...suggestions?


The wind whooshes through the trees that have lived at least half the years of the building in which I reside, pushing the leaves that cling so tightly to their branches, yearning to not let go, into contortionistic states. It whips through my fingertips as I spread my index and middle finger to draw from a cigarette. Exhaling, I notice that on this architecturally historic street, most of the leaves have fallen to the ground, making it a wonderland of red, yellow and brown. A blonde segment of my bangs fall into my left eyelashes, a light drop of precipitation falls just under the corresponding lower lashes, on the top on my cheekbone & I remember just how lucky I am.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Another Missed Opportunity

WARNING: Do not read further if you do not enjoy "potty humor".

Okay, so a well-known fact about Tron is that she likes potty humor. If you are unfamiliar with "potty humor", know that it contains such subcategories as poop jokes, laughing at people who pee in their pants ("piddling" also included in this subset), getting a kick out of tummy rumblings & uncontrollable giggling at what may or may not be considered funny sounds & smells.

Why are you talking about yourself in the 3rd person?

I dunno. Why are you here?

Potty humor. Why else?

Makes sense to me.

Despite the obvious grossness & unladylikeness of this subject, I just can't help myself. It was coded in the original 46 chromosomes that I fall over laughing if I hear someone rip ass. Everyone in my family has the disease. If you really want to get me an awesomer-than-lots-of-other-things present, look no further than a fart machine. Those things are fucking hilarious. Getting to the point, since work is super slow right now I've had ample time to surf the net.

This is what I came across.

Offensive? Maybe. In poor taste? Eh. Amusing? Absofuckinglutely. (confidential to Alison, that was for you!)

These are the same guys that actually named out 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover.

And again, can someone please explain the the hell is going on this picture? Best guess wins a prize.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

I have arrived.

And on the 7th day, god gave me cable. (and the internet) Yes, the wait is over. 3 days of missing work, sitting around, twiddling my thumbs, calling Comcast and 2 temper tantrums later (dear men who i've dated that tried to rile me up or 'wanted to see me get pissed off', you missed it. thanks for the sex, em), it's done. Finally done. I have like 3 million channels to choose from but one that warms my little heart Monday through Thursday at 10 p.m. That's right, mother fuckers, my ass is goin' be sittin' on the couch, in my hott-ass (see how I added that extra 't' for intensity!) sweatpants, eatin' me some ice cream, watchin' me some Daily Show tonight.

Second up, I finished Charlie Chaplin's autobiography. 2 THUMBS WAY UP. Con & I started a Book Club because we want to be like Oprah (OOOp-raahhhhhhhh).
First book=Lolita. If you would like to join, please call & provide the secret password.

And finally, my day just got even BETTER an hour ago when my boss told me that we are going to close the office early tomorrow. I bet I could make it home to watch the Golden Girls. That Betty White just crack me up!

Wednesday, November 09, 2005


News that you may not know or even care about.

Sad sad day. Sad sad sad sad sad sad day.

I had a chance to chat with a friend about this issue last night so I'm not feeling as angry anymore, just sad. He lived in a little ski town in the past, too, so we were in agreement. YOU DON'T GROOM BOWLS. Are they nuts? Why would you do that? What is wrong with these people? Do they not understand what good snow is? It's not packed precipitation with a little leeway to swoosh around in. Nosireebob. It's jumping stuff. It's soft & fun & just plain so great I can't even describe it properly. Goddamn Vail Resorts. Next thing you know they'll bring in chain restaurants & a mall or something. Gggggggrrrrrrr...

Maybe I'll write a letter expressing my disappointment.

Speaking of letters, I have a couple more to write. First, to Ms. Fiona Apple who is allowing her concert tickets to sell for $40/each. Okay, little Miss Apple's not your last name it's your middle name, cut the crap. Don't get me wrong, I love her. I'd prefer to stay away from commenting on the third album & it's finally released production (ahem, it kinda sucked. you should have stuck with Brion). However, the first two, namely the second one, are A M A Z I N G (just like the sweet, soft snow that the groomer people are going to run right over to take the fun out of flying down bowls, jumping all the way). So unless the ticket fairy tucks some tickets under my pillow or I happen to trip into a windfall of caaaeeeesh money, I am boycotting. BOYCOTTING!

And then there's the last letter. (dear nick, will you please help me out with this one? thanks, em) There is no Taco Bell within like 10 miles of me. This is so wrong on so many levels I can't even count them. College campus (yes, it may be a loser campus but it's still a campus) & no Taco Bell? Unacceptable. Thus, I am writing a letter to the head honchos who want us all to think outside the bun, requesting they put a franchise in the neighborhood. Right next to Jimmy's or The Pub would be best but as long as it's within the 2 block south, 4 blocks east or west & 5 block north area of my apartment, I think we should be good to go.

La la la la, turn that frown upside down.

Tonight America's Next Top Model is on. FIERCE!

If you have not seen this show, you should. Really. Really. Really. So in honor of ANTM(!) & that I need to work on ship shaping up these Top 5 lists. If you would like to tell me YOUR Top 5 Catwalk songs, that'd be cool, too. That is, unless it sucks & then keep it to yourself.

Top 5 Catwalk (as in the Runway not actually walking around like a cat) songs:
1. Matthew Sweet-Girlfriend
2. Air-Kelly Watch the Stars
3. Various songs by RJD2
4. Royce-Purple Puppies
5. Mark Almaria-Creamy Groove Machine (side 1)

Toodles Poodles.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Things that make you go hhhmmmmmm...

Um, I really don't think that I should ever have to ask myself why air conditioning is being pumped into the office on the 7th of November.


So I discovered last night that my shiny new standard cable at basic prices means essentially nothing, as I receive 5 sports channels but not one Comedy Central. (head hung low) So I started thinking, maybe this is god's way of pointing & laughing. And since I don't get NBC or ABC (is that really still a channel?) and the internet is still all effed, I called Comcast (dear Comcast, eat a bag of dicks. thanks, em) to report that they need to run a new cable line over the roof of the building where I presently reside. They kept saying "so you ordered Basic Cable?". This at first made me a little nervous. Like they're tricking me. You know? As if they KNOW that they set me up with Standard & I'm this weasely, cheap little girl who just doesn't want to dish out an extra $20 for Standard Cable but I really really really want Comedy Central so I can watch hungover marathons of Reno 911 & the Daily Show every night at 10. But then I thought that maybe they were in shock that anyone actually ordered Basic service anymore. So I think I'm going to have to come clean if I want to sleep at night & have them turn it off. Or start paying more money. Sigh. I guess I kind of like Bravo & The History Channel & Discovery & sometimes The Learning Channel & Oxygen because they have the sex grandma. Damn you, Comcast, damn you. You give me a taste of what it's like to be a real American, sitting around in jammies, eating Breyer's Mint Chocolate Chip (fav any time of the year ice cream) flipping between a biography of Cary Grant & the Sex Grandma on a Sunday night & then take it away or make me pay for it.

Saturday, November 05, 2005

16 ounces of love

Ha ha. Why don't they market it as drinking a pound?

I'm in love. I'm in love with an illusive man. His name is Connor. I never know what he will do next but he loves to kiss me. Ah. Love. How glorious.

You know what else I love? Beth Orton. But I guess that's a who, huh? Her voice is like honey. Just sweet enough but not an overkill of sweetness.

An' if I never saw the sunshine bay,
Then maybe I wouldn't mind the rain.

Time to go back to the party. Kiss kiss.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Tra la la one effed up morning

Slowest. Cable guy. Ever. Evereverever. Reminded me of the movers I hired a little while back. But he didn't stand around & comment on how all of my furniture looks like jewelry boxes & instead, he stood around & focused on me living by myself in this big place...all alone? you use all this space?...uh, yeah. me and my SUPER FEROCIOUS CAT. he's resting up for night duty...I had all of this free time on my hands when the Cable Guy was at my place so I cleaned & straightened & you know what happens when you clean & straighten? You find shit that you tucked away, hoping that somehow it would decompose & just be gone without having to deal with it.

Ain't no magic in the breakdown baby.

Alas, while putting together a place where I can keep my dance stuff that's out in the open enough that I won't forget it on ballet days but looks nice I came across some ex stuff. Dun dun dun (descending notes). I'm all about dating karma & feel it's not something to fuck with. I don't treat others' hearts recklessly & am not fond of my own treated in such a matter. Although first instincts thrust me towards the garbage, I have replaced many a cd due to someone else holding it for ransom or claiming it as their own. My own policy is that one attempt to exchange is warranted. After that, it's fair game. Very UN, yes? After my straightening escapade I still had about an hour & a half to think. My mind started to wander into the male/female territory. But instead of the usual practicing of "it's not you it's me" & trying to keep a straight face while I said "no, really, size doesn't matter" & "that's okay, you can get me next time", I dug a little deeper. Which is a very dangerous thing. DANGEROUS!

And this is how it went...

Earlier this week, I was alerted by Slate Magazine that Maureen Dowd wrote quite an article in the NY Times regarding modern women & gender roles & men & crap like that. Although not fluent in her work (spunky, witty, fun), like recreational drugs, I've dabbled. And like recreational (ahem) drugs & Ms. Anna Quindlen, I got bored quickly and moved on (although I will admit that Object Lessons was my fav book at age 14, shortly before reading East of Eden, which in turn blew Ms. Q. the fuck out of the water). Back to the point, there's been a bit of a backlash from Ms. Dowd's article, of which I find just as interesting as the article itself. The Hot Librarian wrote about it & made some good points. Apparently, many a devil's advocate have picked apart Ms. Dowd, pointing out that there are a few crucial details missing. I particularly enjoyed Slate's decision to use ammo & paint the "oh, poor me, i have a pulitzer & now i can't find a man" portrait for a small part of the article when sources say that Ms. Dowd has no problem finding company on a weekend night. Regardless of how I agreed or disagreed with Ms. Dowd, I find this topic rears its ugly head quite frequently. As soon as I think that it's over, the cycle starts up. You know, feminazi to housewife...the struggle continues. Did feminism screw us over? In the article, Ms. Dowd refers to The Rules. Ah, The Rules. Leah, roommate Sophomore year in college, tossed it at me & I couldn't help myself. She told me that she was a "Rules Girl" & thought I could learn a thing or two from it. I read it. How could I not? At first, I huffed an puffed about it. What? Wear makeup when I go for a jog? Are you kidding me? I'm working out & could care less what the hell I look like? The argument in the book is that you never know who you'll meet & always want to enhance your best features. Ha. This book is crap, I said to myself, making fun of it with my girlfriends. At that point the whole thing seemed silly & I was stuck on the idea that if any woman was to follow those "rules" that she, too, was just as silly as the book. This was a very close-minded view & surely shut me off to lessons these ladies could have taught.

Within all of this slinging muck from one side to the other, we're forgetting that we don't all want the same thing, nor are we intended to all receive love in the same ways. Yes, Ms. Dowd, you are absolutely correct in that men want someone to take care of them, to baby them & what-have-you & for the men to take care of the women, take charge, pay & have something to offer even if it is sometimes looked at as dependence. Some men. Yes, there is also a trend that women of my generation are tending towards changing their last name upon marriage more than women in the '80s and '90s. But isn't that typical reaction of any movement. Clearly, artistic movements are not all the same & tend to (or at least Western movements) be reactionary. Case in point: Baroque to Classical to Romantic periods of music. Telemann & Vivaldi to Mozart & Haydn to Chopin & Brahms. All three different periods with the bounce from emotional to logical to emotional styles.

It all comes down to what you want, the choices you make to get that & the consequences with your decision. If your goal is to get married, have children & stay home, fantastic. Please don't constantly complain to me that your husband works a lot to support the way of life that you two have chosen. Likewise, if your choice is to attend graduate school to become a professor in neurobiology, that's great too. But once I get called repeatedly with whining of working late, writing papers & research taking up majority of your time, I will offer you a shoulder, a hug & coffee but no sympathy. 2 extreme cases, however, realize that with each one you will be giving something up. Just because I don't fit into living by The Rules doesn't mean that the book's a terrible thing. The terrible thing would be if I did adhere myself to something that I am not.

Why is it still so important that we, as women, still need to find husbands? Upon further research, I ran into more literature on how to "catch & keep a man" than I ever wanted to know existed. We wonder why some men treat us as if we are prizes to be won. China dolls to be placed in a cage. The only thing that I feel may be worth catching and keeping would be a kitten or butterfly. Not a man. In the case that is your way of going about things, you should probably be ready to be treated as a prize. And with prizes are expectations. Don't get me wrong, I'd like to settle down & start a family at some point. However, I'm not anywhere close to running to it. It'll happen when it's supposed to. We tend to focus on The Cat Lady instead of Auntie Mame.

Different strokes for different folks.

What I haven't heard mentioned, yet, is one unsided truth. Regardless of whether you're for or against the feminist movement, it gave us women options. It's no longer shocking or a struggle for a woman to become a doctor or a lawyer or a CEO. At one time we didn't have that option, or at least not so much accessible or acceptable. Nor should anyone be shunned for deciding to stay at home & raise kids or thought of as any less of a woman if she opted for nursing school rather than med school. If you only date above a certain tax bracket, more power (and precious stones) to you. If you want to be a rockets scientist, that's cool too.

I will take my soap box with me now.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

I'm Livin' in the Future

I have news. BIG NEWS! This is so huge because it affects all life as I know it. Okay, so remember how I got a TELEVISION about a month & a half ago. And then I got a MICROWAVE?! And a VCR?!?! So are you ready for this?

As of Friday at 8:00 a.m. I will not only have the INTERNET piped into my home but also BASIC CABLE!

Yeah, I really don't quite know how to handle this, either. I mean, this is gonna be crazy! And I almost got so carried away that I ordered Standard Cable but figured that'd be too much of a shock. I mean, I'd have to learn all of these new channels & the Golden Girls is like ALWAYS on Lifetime, television for women, so I would just want to stay home all day & watch Dorothy & Sophia & Blanche & Rose in their crazy antics. And that Bea Arthur is mesmorizing & then there's Betty White. Isn't she just a hoot?! OMG! More trivia....this is three part. Ready?

First, what are each of their ex or dead husbands' names? For Blanche, you can just name her latest husband since she had like 4.7 million of them. That Rue McClanahan sure did play a slut.

Second, lyrics to the theme song.

Third, name 2 "guest appearences" that appeared on the show as themselves.

Bonus: name the super-famous celeb who was the Elvis Impersonator @ Sophia's wedding. (hint: he was also in the "The President's Coming" episode)

Isn't trivia fun? I just love playing Trivia Games.

In other's his birthday today. He's 25 now. Happy birthday, sucka.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005


Hola. Hoy es parte de una celebracion Mexicana. El 1 y 2 de Noviembre son partes del Dia de los Muertos. Debes leer en ese topico en aqui. En esta noche voy a hablar con los espiritus de mis parientes y amigos muertos despues de bebere muchas cervezas y bailare con mi gato. Los espiritus les gustan que bebemos cervezas y bailemos con nuestros gatos.

Pues, digo que bebeis las cervezas y bailais con gatos.

Hasta luego, amigos del red.