The frighteningly average, middle-aged man who tucks in his shirt exposing the fact that he unapologetically forgot to use a belt to keep his pants from sagging.
For penance he must eat woven leather belts for all eternity in hell, and it goes without saying that Hanson's mmm Bop is blaring and John Candy is doing the Macarena --Ahhhh ah, HEY MACARENA!!!
Don't be the pre-med dropout slinking down Leary on a Thusday night, one hand in his back pocket, the other buried in the cardboard nook of a half-rack of Bud Light, his Target-bought pinstriped white button-up untucked as he nonchalantly galavants past the avenue reaking of women with iPods, puppies and mace.
That guy? But ya gotta love him.
anonymous
August 12 2005, 07:40:23 UTC
The guy with the neatly cut but unwashed dark hair -Wearing the brown polyester blazer suit, one size too small with dandruff on the shoulders, sweat on his upper lip and brows who just walked down the isle in Sears -toes out with one arm hanging down-fingers splayed and tapping his thigh to a rythmn only known to him. He stops, oblivious to onlookers as he picks his nose with the other hand and wipes it on the bottom folded pair of dockers stacked in front of him.
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Lata,
Noah
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For penance he must eat woven leather belts for all eternity in hell, and it goes without saying that Hanson's mmm Bop is blaring and John Candy is doing the Macarena --Ahhhh ah, HEY MACARENA!!!
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Chris & Zach
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Frieda
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oh wait...that's me.
damn.
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