I mention texts on this infantile blog from time to time. Mostly stuff that Geilfuss passes along to me. I normally don't mention my reply texts however. What follows are only the reply texts I sent out last night to Greensboro's favorite bartender, & religious Glenn Beck viewer, Dave. I don't think any context is needed, nor are the texts that Dave sent to me.
6:58 - Yes. Heading out soon. You working?
7:01 - Thanks for the heads up.
7:53 - Tell Pam that Liz has been asking about HER.
8:42 - Tell Pam that Arizona Pete's called & they did find her thong in the men's room - XL and moist.
11:50 - Ask that fat chick who works with Goose when she needs to be back at the group home.
1:24 - What a fucking idiot.
You can make up a story in your own head about what might have led to each text, and if you know me, it will be pretty accurate. I'm not a nice person...
I wish I could go back and reprint text conversations that Andy & I have had over the years when we were sitting at a bar somewhere and talking with an idiot or a group of idiots. Those would be priceless. And if you're wondering, yes, if Andy wasn't careful, he might have spit out his beer when reading some of the texts I sent about some poor soul sitting 2 or 3 or 4 feet away. A lot of texts like the ones above that I sent to Dave last evening. Things like: Can you smell the cum in her throat? or - Do you think even Tom would fuck this? or - I think this chick fucked George in the back room 5 minutes ago. Stuff like that.
Dave did ask me yet again last night about Salt. It's finally opening Friday. I just want this sad chapter to be over. This is getting more ridiculous than his buildup to the new Nightmare On Elm Street a few months back or his A-Team fixation after that.
Speaking of the A-Team, I for one, do not, have not, nor will ever, pity the fool.
Although I do love it when a plan comes together...
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