||[Oct. 11th, 2013|12:36 am]
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)
Sitting in a diner in the rain. Rain that’s turning to snow by way of slush by the way.
The guy with the Jesus hair in the next booth praying to his telephone . . .
She’ll do it; she’s my God-given girlfriend, after all.
God doesn’t give girlfriends.
Tell God that!
You can’t think outside the box with a board up your ass. Remember that.