Kannafoot has been a good friend for years but, on a road trip, we would likely murder each other before we even got past Hackensack.
(Ed: is that real?)
Yes, it's just outside New York City.
(Ed: are you in the City?)
Well, not exactly.
(Ed: how exact does it have to be?)
I'm not exactly anywhere, mate. In Facebook it says I'm in Greece ... and I was ... but not now. Now I can't even get past Hackensack and I have a dead body on my hands.
(Ed: that's ok. Chuck it into the River with concrete shoes. That's what everyone else does.)
Kannafoot wants to plan out his trip right down to where he will have his mid-morning snack next Thursday. He wants to know what it will be, where he will eat it, and how long it will take. Planning, see. Big planning.
However, he has mentioned skinny-dipping with some nubile lasses in Austria and we rather doubt this was on his personal TripTik for that day.
Steps: find nubile lasses, get naked, jump in a lake with them
Time allotted: forty-seven minutes
Note: regrettably, after jumping into the cold water of an Austrian mountain lake, your Brooklyn Bridge will shrink to the size of a parking lot speed bump. Do keep that in mind, Macho Muchacho, or possibly stay in the water until Nightfall.
(Ed: did you ask Kannafoot about that?)
Nein, nein! There are some things men ask each other and 'how is the size of your penis today' is just not one of them, matey mate.
Conversely, Silas believes in planning by blowing a bowl and looking to see where the whim takes him. He knows life unfolds any damn way it likes and it's his privilege to watch although sometimes he ends up flat on his back in a French roundabout with a motor scooter on his foot.
(Ed: great planning!)
It was planned! See, some nubile French lasses would notice my troubles, become greatly sympathetic, and invite me to their castle in the South of France to recover.
(Ed: did it work?)
Nope.
(Ed: on review, it looks like Kannafoot cleared your clock regarding young lassies!)
Beginner's luck, mate! (larfs) That's yer answer.
(Ed: is that real?)
Yes, it's just outside New York City.
(Ed: are you in the City?)
Well, not exactly.
(Ed: how exact does it have to be?)
I'm not exactly anywhere, mate. In Facebook it says I'm in Greece ... and I was ... but not now. Now I can't even get past Hackensack and I have a dead body on my hands.
(Ed: that's ok. Chuck it into the River with concrete shoes. That's what everyone else does.)
Kannafoot wants to plan out his trip right down to where he will have his mid-morning snack next Thursday. He wants to know what it will be, where he will eat it, and how long it will take. Planning, see. Big planning.
However, he has mentioned skinny-dipping with some nubile lasses in Austria and we rather doubt this was on his personal TripTik for that day.
Steps: find nubile lasses, get naked, jump in a lake with them
Time allotted: forty-seven minutes
Note: regrettably, after jumping into the cold water of an Austrian mountain lake, your Brooklyn Bridge will shrink to the size of a parking lot speed bump. Do keep that in mind, Macho Muchacho, or possibly stay in the water until Nightfall.
(Ed: did you ask Kannafoot about that?)
Nein, nein! There are some things men ask each other and 'how is the size of your penis today' is just not one of them, matey mate.
Conversely, Silas believes in planning by blowing a bowl and looking to see where the whim takes him. He knows life unfolds any damn way it likes and it's his privilege to watch although sometimes he ends up flat on his back in a French roundabout with a motor scooter on his foot.
(Ed: great planning!)
It was planned! See, some nubile French lasses would notice my troubles, become greatly sympathetic, and invite me to their castle in the South of France to recover.
(Ed: did it work?)
Nope.
(Ed: on review, it looks like Kannafoot cleared your clock regarding young lassies!)
Beginner's luck, mate! (larfs) That's yer answer.
No comments:
Post a Comment