Monday, November 26, 2001

orange creamsicle.

it is possible to be in and out of the CA DMV in less than half an hour without an appointment.
yes, it's true. despite what you might think.
and i do know what you're thinking you chump.
yes yes, roll on up and into the coliseum dmv with my proper papers in hand, with my backpack filled to the brim with multiple periodicals, headphones and cd player, full water bottle, mini tape recorder and i'm ready to rock the dmv for multiple hours.

but uh oh...i was thrown for a loop! fuckin a man, tis some crazy crazy stuff there yo.
and be checking out the scene as i rolled on in.
i wait in the first line, they give me the nod to the looooong line to my right. i was thinking "damn, i'm sure glad i prepared myself for this monstrosity."
but then, after just a few minutes, this woman comes up to me to check my papers and then tells me to move on up to the express line #2. ok, ok. all right now.
so then i go from having about 40 people in front of me to about 5 people in front of me. well, within less than 10 minutes, i was up in there rocking it old school, feeling the love.
you know how it is.
and then, well then, i got the hookup and then moved on over to pay my dues when the girl asks me 'who is that on your pin?'
well, since you folks can't see me right now, i was sporting the lovely pin of the brawny man, appropriated by some good friends of mine, Content Provider, who make riotous sound attacks for the children.
the girl asks me "is that chuck norris?" ha ha, no no, young woman. no such thing. (chuck norris?? good god, there's an antique...maybe i should go rerent "a force of one." on second thought, why not drive my car off the bay bridge? either way).
i told her that it was the disembodied head of one brawny man and then i told them that some people tend to think that he's a 70s porn star. (he does kind of look like that, even if he doesn't have a penis. he's got the mustache).
they laughed. ha ha. laughter. and then i made my exit. nobody stopped me. nobody grabbed on to my collarbone.
nobody wanted to get some change from me.
and nobody, but nobody, called me chicken.
which often happens while i'm hanging out in oakland by myself with a bag full of periodicals, cds and headset.
now i am back, here to tell the outrageous tale to you, the loyal fan of paperspray.
please make a note of it.

there are other things that must be told, stories to unfold, concepts to grasp and philosophies to expound upon.
but for now, i'm content ending it at this. for later, comes the real story.
the real roxanne roxanne.
and you know that will be one lovely adventure the whole family can enjoy.
so tune in later my friends.
you are so lucky to be a part of this community.
can't you feel the love tonight?
i know i can.

so suckle that chin, suck in that nipple and saddle up for some hometown cheer.
daddy's coming home to roost.

whatever the fuck that means.
spaghetti rules.
eat less lettuce.

your arrogant bricklayer,

Corey Haim

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