Plumber

I went to a punker show the other night. I didn,t feel right there. My hair was too long and my boots were too nonexistent for that group. They were nice enough though. I actually don,t know if they were nice or not. I watched one band and spent the rest of my time there inside of a house watching people fight on television. It was a strange, enjoyable evening.

I had never seen a UFC fight before. All I knew about them was that jerks like to watch them and that some people like to wear black shirts with skulls and roses on them. I mostly paid attention to how weird their ears looked. I think there were three or four matches on the show and every person,s ear looked like a melted plastic bag. It made me want to be an ultimate fighter too. I think I could. Some of them weighed as much as me but they were several inches shorter and were made of more than a semi-translucent quilt of skin covering brittle, ugly, chalk bones.

Aloha - That,s Your Fire
I eventually left and went to have some din-din at a nice little Mexican place. ,,Mexican place,, sounds really racist. There was a man shaped like a bowling ball there who was talking into an old hacky sack filled with triple A batteries as if it were a cell phone. He was sitting at a table surround by food that he had dropped or smashed onto the floor and asked me and all of the people I was with if he could get a ride down the street. He did it in a very strange way. He came up to the side of me as I was about to order and repeatedly said, ,,Hey, bro. Hey, bro. Hey, bro,, and when I would look to him signaling that I heard what he had said, he would stand motionless for a few moments so I would look away, thinking that he may have been speaking to somebody else (he was wearing sunglasses so I couldn,t see who he was looking at). He did it again and I looked at him a little bit longer until his spit-covered lips puked out a mumbly sentence at me. He was clearly looking for a victim rather than a car ride so I had to decline his offer to sit next to me in my tiny car.

The rest of the evening was spent eating burritos and talking about backpacks. I guess backpacks are expensive. I,ve had the same one since I was in eighth grade. My friend said that she would give me a backpack that she had sitting in her closet because she didn,t know who it belonged to, but she probably won,t because I bet she,s a backpack tease. Most girls are backpack teases.