Mr. Blonde style tales that aren't really about Mr. Blonde, but you might think so.

[angry pancake]

I've lived in the same house for I guess about 10 years. The neighbor across the street, I'll call him Charlie, is actually a really cool dude. He and his wife are both scientists and work in a big ass lab etc. His wife is reasonably cool as well, at least to me anyway. When they moved in there daughter was in early grade school. Always a gangly scrawny kid who played in the dirt. This morning, I leave late and I notice a really nice looking youngish women getting out of the driver's side of Charlie's truck. Charlie out of the passenger side. I go over to say hello as I usually do. His goddamned daughter was driving. She's sixteen now almost seventeen. Tall, blonde, and filled out really nicely. I was floored. It seemed this gangly awkward kid with glasses was falling off her skateboard not too long ago. I guess I had somehow gone a few years without bumping into her. Appears she spends summers in Russia with her grand parents and her mom doesn't let her during the school year.

To be clear, I don't have any thoughts of waiting until she legal and moving in on it. None--that's kinda creepy from my perspective. I used to keep an eye on her while one of her parents would make short errands. No chance of seeing AP on catch a predator. Also because I think she's legal in Texas.

After I said goodbye and went on my way amazed at how quick the little kid grew up, I went into my garage and punched a hole in the wall. Any suggestions on how to repair it?

[Ugly Bastard]

Leave it. Holes in the wall add character.

[angry pancake]

Fuck me. I meant to post this in jibberish.

[THEINCREDIBLEdork]

Admins!

[Ironic Mustache]

I like it here.

[angry pancake]

I really, really could use a truck. Sometimes when I'm trying to move things I think how convenient and practical trucks are. Particularly if I decide to go stay at my rent house or something like that. But instead I think I'll go buy a couple of convertibles.

[thekremlin]

I made dinner for myself tonight. I cut the meat into cubes. Then I arranged them by size. Then I cut the vegetables into cylinders. Then I arranged them by color. There were 37 meat cubes and 29 vegetable cubes. Then I cooked them in a frying pan.

[DJ FC]

Fire in the hole!

[vaga1220 *]

I have a single meat cylinder.

[angry pancake]

I'm thinking of getting a tattoo. Maybe I'll post pics, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll post them on the Reddit.

[thekremlin]

HE IS FROM NOWHERE. I realize that sounds coyly rhetorical—in this day and age, it's even a boast, right? Socioeconomic code for I went to a second-tier school and had no connections and made all this money myself.

Yeah, I don't mean it that way. I mean he is from nowhere. Given the relevant maps and a pointer, I think I could convince even the most exacting minds that when the vast and blood-soaked jigsaw puzzle that is this country's regional scheme coalesced into more or less its present configuration after the Civil War, somebody dropped a piece, which left a void, and they called the void Central Indiana. I'm not trying to say there's no there there. I'm trying to say there's no there. Think about it; let's get systematic on it. What's the most nowhere part of America? The Midwest, right? But once you get into the Midwest, you find that each of the different nowherenesses has laid claim to its own somewhereness. There are the lonely plains in Iowa. In Michigan there is a Gordon Lightfoot song. And Ohio has its very blandness and averageness, faintly comical, to cling to. All of them have something. And now I invite you to close your eyes, and when I say "Indiana"…blue screen, no? And we are speaking only of Indiana generally, which includes Southern Indiana, where I grew up, and Northern Indiana, which touches a Great Lake. We have not even narrowed it down to Central Indiana. Central Indiana? That's like, "Where are you?" "I'm nowhere." "Go there." And when I asked Jeff Strange, a morning-rock deejay in Lafayette, how he thought about this part of the world—for instance, did he think of it as the South? after all, it's a Klan hot spot (which I am inclined to read as a somewhat desperate affectation); or did he think of it as the Midwest or what—you know what he told me? He goes, "Some people here would call it 'the region.'"

[Dent]

Through an awakening process that I have undergone I now understand this one fundamental truth. Nearly all suffering is the mind resisting to accept the present moment of what is. With this truth, I no longer see how modifying genes or enhancing pleasure receptors could lead to abolishment of suffering. As long as we claim to seek our identity in thoughts, emotions, and external content then suffering is inevitable.

[Mr. Blonde]