cervixFORaHEart wrote:they always tore the shit out my mouth

Right? Are these things made out of the same substance as captain crunch just with a different flavor? If so is the inventor of this substance some kind of sadist ?

burun wrote:

Brett Eugene Ralph wrote:
You don't have to be the spawn of hippies (or African American) to love this shit. Childhood summer served in a glass.

I hung out all day Sunday with my oldest friend Mick. After he helped me put a new door handle on my Cutlass, after he'd played me all of the Shooting Star tracks he'd downloaded and talked me into giving him the Starz sticker on my guitar case (to add to the band stickers all over the fridge in his garage), we sat down to lunch: Velveeta shells & cheese and grape Kool Aid--no ice, in a frosted mug.

Brett, that is the type of stuff that makes me feel like I missed out on a lot, growing up in the urban jungle.

It was pretty fucking great, I admit. Blake said that exuberance is beauty, and Mick is the most exuberant person I know. By the time I'd left, the palm of my right hand was sore from Mick's constant ferocious high fives.

I also talked about Barack Obama's candidacy with Mick's wife, Holly; discussed this year's NFL draft with Mick and his lesbian neighbor, Marcy (she's commissioner of his fantasy football league); and attempted to explain to Mick why the phased gong that begins and ends Ram Jam's "Black Betty" is two of the greatest moments in rock music. He didn't take much convincing--he saw Ram Jam at the Kentucky State Fair in 1977.

As I was heading west on 64 and beginning the long drive back to western Kentucky after three days in Louisville, a white Mustang blasted by me, blaring the horn. Almost simultaneously, my cell phone rang. "God damn," a familiar voice was shouting, "that door handle looks gooood.