Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Short Bus
Look, they’re not “retarded,” okay? Lets get our terminology correct. They’re “special people.” With “special gifts.” One of them being the ability to score pouty hotties, apparently.
Actually anyone can get caught in a moment of tonguebaggery. It’s not like we all haven’t been there. Only when I go there, I’m not standing next to a drunk party girl. I’m usually lying on my rug, listening to Stevie Ray, picking crumbs off my shirt and reaching for another swig of the ‘Train.
Maybe that’s the problem. When I get retarded, I need to head-butt a puffy lipped pixie stick. Or at least stop scratching myself. Stupid rash.
