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  1. My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard, really. At the age of twelve, I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I suggest you try it.
  2. I only order Whataburger via the app. They still fuck it up, but way less.
  3. They had a ton of planes out there. I live near Jim Hogg and they were passing over me on their path to pick up water from the lake. Wild shit.
  4. It’s happening to me as well.
  5. If have tried just to fuck with him
  6. I have a call in to Cody, but did you find anyone?
  7. Stagecoach Rd through Stagecoach, by Magnolia. Fuck that little town.
  8. Looked like Bo leaned in to him to try and get the call.
  9. Hayward, not Pentair, but I’ve had two lights replaced by my builder under a full 3 year warranty.
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