Sunday, August 02, 2009

Dear Tommy Tumult,

No more doublewhiskeycokenoice's for you. You're not an alcoholic fat man like Paddy, therefore having four dead inside you is a very bad idea.

Yes, Nelson Algren came to you, but he didn't tell you to celebrate the ugly things. Instead, that asshole said "Give this man a jello shot! A blue one!" Give me a purple!" I don't even know if you ran into the big O, Otis Redding, but, if you did, I hope you thanked him for being awesome.

You fell asleep on the toilet, for fuck's sake! You had to crawl up the stairs on all fours! How you operated the key to get in to your place, I'll never know. You were worried you flushed your glasses down the toilet. No more of that.

I hope relegating yourself to bed all day makes you realize how bad an idea that was. No, you can't have any pancakes, you didn't earn them. And who would make them, anyhow? The scent of the batter would turn your already beaten stomach. And do you think you possess the motor ability required to flip one right now? No sir! Shit, you just had to look up how to spell batter and it took you five minutes to figure out that it's two t's and not d's.

Stay away from those mixed drinks until Fest. Get back on your workout regimen, you've got a girl to impress.


Tommy Tumult

P.S. You rock my world.

said Tommy T. at 11:42 AM - #

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