LADEELEROY

2001-09-27

GUESTBOOK
PROFILE
OLDER ENTRIES
E-MAIL ME
12% BEER
DIARYLAND
 
FUNNEL CAKE BITCHES! NOW!
 
  Cue the sun shining.

Cue lovely viola solo floating in the wind.

Cue children laughing and flying kites and running though a field filled with Charmin and tootsie rolls.

Cue American Indian and Civil War soldier laughing together and eating corn, talking about the good ol' days.

Cue birds flying overhead spelling out words like "Awaken" and "Inspiration."

Cue Ladeeleroy emerging from her apartment, cigarette in mouth, wind whipping through her hair, lips freshly renewed with an application of Medicated ChapStick.

Close up on Ladeeleroy's left pupil. Notice the it's-so-dark-it's-darkness of it, but also notice that little shimmering schpeckle.

Cue eyball schpeckle sound.

Eyeball: Ching ching. Shiny shiny. Glimmer Glimmer.

YES!

I HAVE EMERGED!

Have you ever found yourself in the bottom of a very deep metaphoric hole that smells like dank camping supplies and you look up and realize how fucking high you'd have to climb so you just say to yourself, "Fuck that noise. I'm just going to sit here at the bottom of this massive pit and smoke too many packs of Camel Ultra Lites"?

Yeah. That's where I was. Yeah. That's where I allowed myself to be for sometime. Yeah. That's why those movies I rented from Blockbuster are so fucking late.

But then, Life comes around and looks down that hole and says, "Hey, if you want, I've got some rope right here. I could toss you down a dangly one and you could perhaps climb up and join me for an ice tea or something." And you say, "Eh. Why not. I'm all out of Camel's anyway." And Life tosses you its rope and you climb and you climb and it occurs to you that climbing a rope, as simple an act as it appears to be, is actually pretty fucking hard. It causes your arms to burn and leaves behind these wretched looking marks on your inner thigh area- a little too close for comfort next to your LadeeLabia. And you say to yourself, "Damn. Instead of sitting in that metaphoric hole for so long I should have gotten in shape or done something more productive- like macrame' or something." Yet, just as this though passes through your mind you've made it to the surface and Life hands you a cold frosty Hibiscus Zinger Ice Tea and says, "You must be thirsty. Have something to drink." And you take a sip and wet your pallet and then shout out...

"FUCK YEAH WORLD! HERE I AM! I'M RIGHT HERE! I AM LADEELEROY AND THIS SHIT CAN STILL MOVE! BOW DOWN BEFORE YOUR BITCH QUEEN AND MAKE HER A FUCKING FUNNEL CAKE!"

Well. Maybe you didn't use those words, but you get my idea.

So here I am. I am recouped. I am rejuvinated. I have freshly washed hair.

And I hope that there aren't any holes ahead. But just in case, I'm stocking up on cartons of Camel Ultra Lights and plenty of macrame'-ing tools.

 
Get All Notified:

I know you were here.
Mellowwwwnade
Copyright 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004 L.Leroy