From Casey: I can accurately describe this as the random ramblings of my good friend Clint Collins.
Although random, his thoughts will positively instigate laughter.
From Clint: I had fully intended on telling you guys about this 65+ year old woman who comes in the restaurant every week who recently had a boob job, but I will not. I was going to tell you about how confused I am every time I see this wrinkled and sun abused body with Pam Anderson mam's on it once a week, but I came across something better. So, don't expect me to compare that woman to Houston... where you have all of these homes that haven't been painted or had any sort of upkeep done on them since LBJ took the oath of office while stomping on his Air Force One sitting next to a 4 million dollar set of condo's... just don't look for it. I'm not going to talk about it.
Her hair is obviously blonde, but so thin you wonder if it has anorexia. I am not going to talk about this though... not with something far more important spinning around in my head this afternoon. "what is that?" you ask... well, you know how everyone is always griping about Valentine's Day? You know how everyone says its a made up holiday so card companies can make money? Ya, its not that either. I hate cliche'd gripes. They really frustrate me. I am almost convinced some people google their humor as to seem funny on facebook. I guess thats what the new trend would be now at least... it used to be just stealing lines you heard your friends drop... or the infamous take a line from a movie and hope no one else has seen it. I am off topic again, goodness! I don't want to talk about this.
I find it hilarious that people are always in search of "something".... not that I want to get into a meaning of life conversation... no, I do NOT want to write about that. Don't you hate when people send you a text or instant message in all caps? Like they are yelling at you? you ask like 'whats up' and they send back 'NOTHING WHAT ARE YOU DOING" jeez... you feel like you just asked them to mow your lawn with toenail clippers.
I feel kind of strange writing something on someone else's blog. My parents always told me to act as casual as I could even when I felt awkward, but I find just coming out with it makes much more sense. Does Martha read this? Oh... what if she does? Will she think I am not as funny as I was that one (well, more like 10) time on her piano making up lyrics as I went along? Is that what people did for entertainment before television? All gathered around a piano and drank wine and made up songs? Whatever... i do not want to talk about this. I have such a great story to tell.
When my african american friends go out to the bar, they go for the sole purpose of getting laid, and if they get drunk its a bonus. When my white friends go out to the bar, they go with every intention of getting wasted, and if they get laid its a bonus. I used to find that funny, but I figured out why it goes down that way. The only girl who is going to go home with you from a bar is going to be white and thick. It takes a caucasian male 10+ drinks before he resorts to going to that level... where as my black friends walk in and go after that right off the bat. That's not what I want to talk about though, because some might think i'm playing a race card. No sir... not today.
Casey told me I could have five paragraphs, and here I am almost out of room to type... and never once did I get to my story. I guess that I am turning into my father after all. There are times when he calls and I never say more than "hello" and we are on the phone for 32 minutes. Oh god.. .does this mean I am going to work odd jobs while trying to get my own career off the ground so I can work from home... wait, I already do that too. They call him Ace... does this mean I will have some awful college nickname that will stick around forever... wait, I sent this from clintodarko@gmail.com... oh god... life gots mo' cycles than the tour de france.... I would say fml but I don't want to piss Swannie off... so I am NOT going to TALK ABOUT THAT.
