* You can double click on the cartoon so you can ACTUALLY read it. It made my day. OK, so I finally did it. For better or worse. Here it is. This is what started it (finally):
Re: What, a girl can't call a spade a spade or a moron a moron?
Sent: Sun 7/26/09 3:26 PM
To: Rocket
From: M
Who knows, could be the MN morons too. Not everyone up here is so bright, you know. By the way, the rant about J and the phone is funny. Maybe that should be the opener to your blog. Don’t give him access. LOL
On 7/26/09 3:09 PM, Rocket wrote:
To: M
From: Rocket
There should have been 2 postcards. They can't get anything right down here. lol. Morons
Date: Sun, 26 Jul 2009 12:43:40 -0500
To: Rocket
From: M
You are so damn funny. I’m glad you’re doing some of the things you love. Got another postcard from you the other day. The horse is my boyfriend! Hilarious.
On 7/25/09 10:56 PM, Rocket wrote:
Me, what am I doing? Not enough but I am gardening, drawing, reading, writing... I've been working on a few articles for this NOLA Green site. Their market / green situation is appalling. My mom's been stirring the pot. J's a fucking pisser. Despite all I actually feel pretty good and am just plodding along trying to ignore my Martha Stewart tendencies. I need to function in the apartment and getting closer by the day - tho not quickly enough.
Date: Sat, 25 Jul 2009 21:41:08 -0500
From: M:
To: Rocket
now I know what J’s doing, what are you doing?(Please forgive me, but I’m only asking that because I love you. . . )
On 7/25/09 4:35 PM, Rocket wrote:
No, no I have yet to set up a blog. Maybe I can't sit down long enough or maybe I can't find the right picture. Or maybe it's that while sitting on the back of a scooter floods of hilarious thoughts come pouring to the forefront of my mind and once I actually get to the coffee shop I can't think of anything to say. Nothing except for maybe, "Shut the fuck up" cuz j just babbles constantly. Seriously, a little more action and a little less talka talka. ( Even when he's not there I find myself uttering those words.)
J's at the third establishment for which he's staged. Today's is Flynn's or some shit. Best New Orleans seafood 2009. Coincidentally the owner/chef is the fucking dirty slob who lived here before us. It's a small place. Maybe I should stop give peeps the evil eye. Anyhoo. J went running off late as usual but this time it was because we had to go searching for his phone. He left -- fucking left -- his new 200$ I-phone on the bench of the world's lamest farmers market in Algiers. That's right, on the other fucking side of the river. His first words on the ferry (after we've already paid) we're , "Where's my phone?" like I did something with it. And then he just comes out and asks if I took his phone out of his pocket - like, duh, you wouldn't notice someone digging in your pockets while riding on the fucking scooter. Once it's found, he alleges it "fell out." Neatly falling, I presume, onto the bench where he had sat it 45 minutes prior. "Why would I do that?" he asserts.
"Because you're stupid."
Re: What, a girl can't call a spade a spade or a moron a moron?
Sent: Sun 7/26/09 3:26 PM
To: Rocket
From: M
Who knows, could be the MN morons too. Not everyone up here is so bright, you know. By the way, the rant about J and the phone is funny. Maybe that should be the opener to your blog. Don’t give him access. LOL
On 7/26/09 3:09 PM, Rocket wrote:
To: M
From: Rocket
There should have been 2 postcards. They can't get anything right down here. lol. Morons
Date: Sun, 26 Jul 2009 12:43:40 -0500
To: Rocket
From: M
You are so damn funny. I’m glad you’re doing some of the things you love. Got another postcard from you the other day. The horse is my boyfriend! Hilarious.
On 7/25/09 10:56 PM, Rocket wrote:
Me, what am I doing? Not enough but I am gardening, drawing, reading, writing... I've been working on a few articles for this NOLA Green site. Their market / green situation is appalling. My mom's been stirring the pot. J's a fucking pisser. Despite all I actually feel pretty good and am just plodding along trying to ignore my Martha Stewart tendencies. I need to function in the apartment and getting closer by the day - tho not quickly enough.
Date: Sat, 25 Jul 2009 21:41:08 -0500
From: M:
To: Rocket
now I know what J’s doing, what are you doing?(Please forgive me, but I’m only asking that because I love you. . . )
On 7/25/09 4:35 PM, Rocket wrote:
No, no I have yet to set up a blog. Maybe I can't sit down long enough or maybe I can't find the right picture. Or maybe it's that while sitting on the back of a scooter floods of hilarious thoughts come pouring to the forefront of my mind and once I actually get to the coffee shop I can't think of anything to say. Nothing except for maybe, "Shut the fuck up" cuz j just babbles constantly. Seriously, a little more action and a little less talka talka. ( Even when he's not there I find myself uttering those words.)
J's at the third establishment for which he's staged. Today's is Flynn's or some shit. Best New Orleans seafood 2009. Coincidentally the owner/chef is the fucking dirty slob who lived here before us. It's a small place. Maybe I should stop give peeps the evil eye. Anyhoo. J went running off late as usual but this time it was because we had to go searching for his phone. He left -- fucking left -- his new 200$ I-phone on the bench of the world's lamest farmers market in Algiers. That's right, on the other fucking side of the river. His first words on the ferry (after we've already paid) we're , "Where's my phone?" like I did something with it. And then he just comes out and asks if I took his phone out of his pocket - like, duh, you wouldn't notice someone digging in your pockets while riding on the fucking scooter. Once it's found, he alleges it "fell out." Neatly falling, I presume, onto the bench where he had sat it 45 minutes prior. "Why would I do that?" he asserts.
"Because you're stupid."
