 - Last login: 2 days agoJLarmor
- JLarmor is a 25 year old guy from New York, USA.
- Likes 58 pages, 4 videos, 4 photos • 14 fans • Received 3 reviews
- Member since Oct 27, 2006
the push forward is the complete inability to be content where we are, when we are.
Impatience is life, progress and the sunset.
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Anecdote w/ a side of Embellishment
Arriving @ the mountain w/ no prepared lunch or snacks there was little one could do in terms of acquiring food w/out succumbing to the devil's devices. It was a prime example of the above we were put thru one fine Sat. afternoon as we rendezvous'd for our final meeting of the day right next to a certain pubescent hot dog vendor. If he had a tail, it would be between his legs, as this young laddy sold the 200-yr-old dogs, for an astounding 3 US dollars a piece. Good business does not often involve good karma. Now, intelligent life in this unverse is hard to come by but that didn't seem to bother this youngish peddler as he wasted his, continually, repeatedly, reaching down deep into the sausage sauna for the kosher submersibles as the sun scarred its line across the sky. And he swindled as his franks dwindled, many yuppie folk parting w/ 3 dollars of power paper in hopes of being bestowed w/ a glorious NYC foodstuff; a gift from the demi-gods blanketed in an exquisite white bread slice, daintfully anointed w/ either Ketchup, Mustard or Relish (after all it was a long and enduring day on the green trail for them). When presented w/ such freedoms Americans do not settle for less, so a 3-on-1 of the above were chosen more often than not, the grinning customer usually walking away w/ more than 1 of the finest, albeit shittiest, frankfurters this side of the Vermont Pizza Inn. But, I will now, if I may, cut to the chase; dispense w/ the pleasantries, and detail perhaps one of the most vile, criminal acts, one of the most sinister maneuvers to have ever transpired this century (yes, i know, this century is young, nevertheless!). As preparations were being made to depart the mountain by Wite Trash & Immonium AD, the former w/ 25% Nicaraguan blood coursing thru his veins, thru the corner of his 50% Polish eyeball he saw... the devil's turd!!
After being approached by a seemingly wealthy family man, the conniving, little fuck of a vendor proceeded to w/draw (not unlike he w/drew the money from the brave fellow's upturned palm) several beefy submarines. Before us lay a succession of antiquated-semi-sausages, a cascade of rancid-tubule-meat-recepticles. After parting w/ what would have been a good portion of the money in MY wallet, homeboy thought over his plan of attack to capture, detain, and relocate this elite force of franks. Slowly, our eyes painfully made their way over the dogs, panning across the merchandise of a fool, frozen in time and, previously, unfrozen in a salty vat of boil'd water. Of course, hot dogs are shit. When you buy a hot dog, you are purchasing shit. When you eat a hot dog, you are dining on shit. But what came next was beyod shit. The final dog:
It was a dirty chimp's erect phallus. It was the wicked wizard staff of a chipmunk w/ bi-polar disorder. It was the moldy stick-log plaything of an old sexually-frustrated hound. It was evil incarnate, processed-meat style. It was the lincoln-log-poop-product of the minions of the underworld. It was all of these combined but so much worse it wasn't any of them at all.
Still in shock of the client's acceptance of these non-good goods, we backpedaled slowly, holding our breath so as not to even inhale any possible aroma's or airborn viral juices from the bad dog and in awe and fear, trekked back to our smelly, smoky, hindu lodge d'Econo, made our way up the steps of spontaneity (where probably more fatalities have occured then Mount Sno), and kill'd ourselves, i mean, play'd Grinda TurisimO.
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