I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Tuesday, March 04, 2003
Kevynn Malone Day Is Tomorrow...flex those typing fingers and massage that liver...
For those of you who do not know. I have officially decreed tomorrow, Kevynn Malone Day. It is a holiday for me, created about me. It's about drinking and bugging me on the computer. it's about AIMing everybody and writing on this piece of shite website. There will probably be way too many posts by me tomorrow. And it's about a contest too, yo. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be home all day. Ian has volunteered his services on Kevynn Malone Day. He will be the Secretary Of Drunkeness. I will do nothing but write and drink. Especially with this fucking broken ankle now. Do you like prizes? The first person that completes all of these chores gets a grand prize from me. The second gets a just-as-cool prize, but not-as-cool as the first.
· You must drink at least one alcoholic beverage.
· Poop at least once during that day.
· You can’t take off your shoes unless they’re work shoes.
· No sleep until midnight. ( I’m being generous to you here )
· You have to eat a salad. Any salad.
· Buy and/or read one Spiderman comic. I've included a link for the lazy bastards.
· Go to a toy store or at least think about it.
· Take out the trash.
· And make a comment on all these websites if they work:
I love you...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment
Hi! Comments! Your FACE is a comment! Huh?