swedish bikini team
swedish bikini team
Swedish Feet Falls
After
our last intramural softball game, we all went to He's Not Here for beer
then everyone went home except for me and one of our team's many fans.
Inspired by talk of curling, we went to Bub's to play the shuffleboard
game there. After that she said she was going to walk home.
Because there are some bad areas on Rosemary Street and because I am nothing
if not chivalrous, I volunteered to escort her. Ancillary to the
dangerous neighorhoods and my chivalrousness was the fact that she was
large-chested and Swedish. At the time I didn't realize that the
apartment we were about to walk to was actually in Sweden, or at least
nearly that far. Normally a round-trip stroll to Sweden would be
no problem, but we had experienced torrential downpours that afternoon
and by game time long-legged fish-eating birds could be seen stalking their slow motion stalk
through the artificial turf wetlands that were the infield. As a
result, I ditched my wet socks when I changed out of my cleats after the
game and I was now sockless. The walk to Sweden was pleasant enough
inasmuch as I was enjoying the company of a buxom Swede and still had
a slight beer buzz, but during the walk home I was plagued by fatigue,
blisters and sobriety. When I finally arrived home an hour and a half
later, I kicked myself for not smooth-talking my way into the Swedish woman's
apartment and pressuring her for socks.
Dermissing
Due to
sunburn, my skin is falling off. And it's not in the cool way where
it comes off in a big sheet and you can pretend it's parafilm, it's the
lame way where it comes off in little rolls like dried rubber cement or
whatever. At least now I don't have to worry about skin cancer, because
the affected skin has fallen off. If it gets cancer, it will be in
my shower drain or on the ground somewhere, so what do I care? Plus
the very term melanoma seems to imply the presence of melanin, a substance
which is largely absent from biochemical constitution. I have found
that I can scratch my back without rolling simply by rubbing myself on
a tree trunk. The people at Weaver Street Hippie Mart totally dig
it. They play the bongos for me while I'm scratching and periodically
provide me with non-cow-harvested tofu-based milkshakes spiked with ginseng
and a number of vitamin-rich herbs to promote healing. They do this
not for me, but because they say it will be beneficial to the tree bark.
