fantastic that you should find yourself here. im here, you're here. please feel free to 'perooze' this here stuff. its full of fantat. check it out. and i hope afterwards, you realize, that, ive touched you deep in your heart. and that ive touched your moms, deep in their pants.

11.06.2004

g-units, exit left.

wello.

you know what this world needs? educated ppl. im not talking about phd's and Bsc's. I'm talking about the general 'what to be like when im not inside the small confines of my bedroom' kind of education. Pee-Wee Herman, obviously didnt educate himself in this department, and look where that got him.

so yes i suppose you feel a story coming on? well yes there is one. i suppose falls right up there with the likes of Billy Bass and his yelling at the movie hero antics. in the night of the last, a few of my friends and myself include, decided that we would make the pleasures and go see The Tea Party at our local television-music-station. so we did, and it was all of the fantat and more. lights were flashing in my eyes and im certain i made it onto your tv. anyhow, after said event we decided to walk the small mile to the concert hall and see them on stage, once again. This was an event of mammoth-excellence. let me tell you, they put on a show. a show without the grandeur of pyrotechnics and saucy midgets running amok. no, it was a fantat show filled with loud music, excellent music at that, an electric crowd and five balding italians not understanding that 4 inches is not enough personal space for me and my friends.

NOW! dont bitch. i understand that its a concert and there will undoubtedbly be more than 4 random boobs and select male-units being pressed up against me in the throes of musical extacy. however, the events i talk about surround the hours pre-concert.

these were of the balding+1 non-balding persuasion. totalling 5. plus a couple of the female gender. which was entirely surprising. but, to each his/her own. so. there we were, grabbing any space we could, to get up as close as we could, and finally we found a good spot from where we could enjoy the splendors of the stage. and with creeping horror we found that we had once again fallen into the traps that i now call 'Retard(s) In Proximity Syndrome' or 'RIPS'. what is this you ask? well. ever since we (if we were all toys, WE would be me in action figure form, and my friend who would be my accessories or attachments. that would be awesome.) have been free to roam the movie theaters, concert halls and peep show studios; we have always been subject to the idiot, seated or standed behind us. the ones who whisper retardedness, YELL AT THE MOVIE HERO, throw in their two cents, or in this case decide to wrestle with the girls in their group and bump up against us with their awkward rear-ends. are these good ideas? not really? why? because they irritate the general crowd. by all means, during the music portion throw yourself into me no-holds-barred. i care not. because at that point i expect it, and will most likely return the favour. but please, before such a time arrives, keep your grubby hands, sausagey arms, balding head with tender fuzz, pudgy body, and pillow-like lower body to yourself. yourself, and your compatriots.....since flicking of ears and patting and other awkward touching was apparently a fun group activity that was enjoyed among these ppl.

personally, i dont go for such things.

its a shame that such good groups have such ugly fanbases.

shal

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