Lines on the Map

Last night I tweeted;

In the evening, stone ducks won't run from cats.
Split pea soup oddly resists exploding.
I avoid a variety of fats.
But some banks never commence eroding.

I just got back from lunch at a franchise Mexican place called Rubio's where, while I was eating, I overheard the conversation of a bunch of young hairy guys in leather, talking about life of a band on tour. The biggest guy told a story about how he and his cohorts had at one point something called a "drilldo", which was a dildo which featured a drill bit that I guess was somehow motorised. He said he and his friends would present the drilldo to girls as part of a "contest" to see who'd take it.

He stopped, waiting for laughs, and the other guys, who now that I looked at them, seemed to be much younger than the big guy, laughed weakly. Then the big guy told a story about a girl who went with the band's guitarist after a show to a curtained off area the big guy said, "she thought was the lounge." Apparently she was really embarrassed when the guitarist pulled back the curtain and the rest of the party saw her blowing him.

Again, the big guy at Rubio's waited for a laugh, and when the laughter was even weaker than before, he said solemnly, "You know what's weird is girls put themselves in that situation."

Yes, funny how that works. Human behaviour must seem incredibly strange when you get used to ignoring your own responsibility. It's weird how they just gave me a burrito because I ordered and paid for one. What a bunch of suckers--I basically own the restaurant now.

It's interesting the big guy decided it was a good time to pull out those chestnuts, like it was time to induct the younger breed into The War on Women.

I'm so tired. Didn't see much sleep to-day and I won't see much to-morrow, either. But I guess that's okay since I have a lot of colouring to do . . .