Thanks to XHAMSTER, the knowledge of car fucking as a fetish is up front and center in my cerebral mass. Dudes fucking door handles, head rests, the grill of cars.

Nothing is off limits for human sexuality.. Amen.

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My taste buds are informing me I just ate nachos from an 8th grade carnival: this is untrue. I merely ate a Lifesavers Wintergreen mint and a chocostik at the same time.

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This TRE Station contains a magical split personality. In the early morning and early evening: it plays the role of middle class mass transit ingress and egress with fantastical skill and dexterity. Once the Dallas-bound professionals scurry away to their 9-5 private, decent-paying, hellish tar pits: the station Jekyllizes into the private playground of Dallas’ unique blend of the mentally unstable and perma-skitzing homeless population.

Don’t be alarmed should you come across a human tooth or feces-soiled sports coat on the ground, they are merely last night’s offering to the God of the Mound. They will be eaten before the next morning.

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Amazon is now the Online Tweaker-Mart. Your local bodega that’s all knowing, always open, and as high as you are.

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I feel summer creeping in and I’m tired of this town again. ~ Tom Petty: “Mary Jane’s Last Dance”

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TIL:

The lyrics are not “got candy heels on tonight” in Jamiroqui’s Canned Heat.

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