Wednesday, February 26, 2003

 
it's just a cloud. it's a small space where the grass seed didn't take. it's you being yourself in the presence of an imperfect birthday cake. you know what this is about, tootsie. don't even. sheathe it. how could anything flourish on tinned rations and less than twenty minutes a day?

you can't tell this story anywhere because i already stole it, and it's going into the writing (and if you're the best one, you were there when philip told it the first time):

when he was young and in catholic school, there were rice bowls. (for the uninitiated, rice bowls are given you during lent to put donations in, which i think go to unicef to help african children, world without end, amen.) but in this school, i guess the money didn't go to unicef, because instead of feeding children, the money went to pay for their en masse baptism. and that isn't even the questionable part of this story. there was also a class competition to see who could bring in the most rice bowl money, and if your class won, you got to name a pagan baby. when the baby was baptized.

does this still happen at that school? no. but not because they realized it was insulting to god and humanity. because philip's class won and voted to name the pagan baby Fonzi.

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