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I spit on your haircut.
Apr. 9th, 2003 06:08 pmI entered the little bus-stop shelter thing a few minutes ago and was smacked in the face with the smell of marijuana. And sure enough, there's a guy with his face in the corner smoking a blunt. Smoke was going everywhere. Every once in a while he'd look around to see if anyone was looking--as if he was really getting over on anyone.
When I got home, I had the following phone conversation.
me: Hello?
misguided woman: Hello, may I speak to Chas?
me: This is CLYDE.
misguided woman: Clyyyyyyyyyde? I'd like to speak to Chas.
me: CHAS?!? What the fuck kind of name is CHAS?!?
misguided woman: Same kind of name as Clyyyyyyyde.
me: I don't think so.
*click*
I tell you, it's just indicative of the rotten state this country is in. How can we be a No. 1 country when people can't even recognize the vast differences between such names as Clyde and Chas? Chas, my ass. Chas = spaz.
When I got home, I had the following phone conversation.
me: Hello?
misguided woman: Hello, may I speak to Chas?
me: This is CLYDE.
misguided woman: Clyyyyyyyyyde? I'd like to speak to Chas.
me: CHAS?!? What the fuck kind of name is CHAS?!?
misguided woman: Same kind of name as Clyyyyyyyde.
me: I don't think so.
*click*
I tell you, it's just indicative of the rotten state this country is in. How can we be a No. 1 country when people can't even recognize the vast differences between such names as Clyde and Chas? Chas, my ass. Chas = spaz.
