| shhhhhh, don't tell my wife |
[May. 28th, 2007|12:36 pm] |
I decided to clean the espresso maker today. I went out and bought the magic cleaning solution and ran multiple courses of post cleaning water through the machine.
You see the difference between me and Ucky, aside from the obvious boy-girl things is that she likes clean stuff and I AM filthy stuff. It's a Punk thing, you wouldn't get it.
Not those crust Punks who are just Hippies with better taste in music but more of a old Times Square 42nd Street movie theatre experience. gum underfoot, stained t-shirt from the greasey shooting game at the Bway arcade, nicotine on the fingers and remember you could get all dirty just riding between cars.
You used to be able to walk around town with a cheap lock blade knife as protection, no one asked where your parents were, why you weren't in school. I used to love blasting my little ghetto blaster because I wanted to make my feelings known that there was more going on then Disco.
Oh yeah, I lost my train of thought. The coffee maker is clean. |
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