|
Hermfreak
|
read my profile
sign my guestbook
Name: Goybame
Country: United States
State: New York
Metro: New York City
Birthday: 8/8/1982
Gender: Male
Interests: thick rimmed glasses are sexy. so is wit, charm and class. hot roast beef sandwiches, Fiji water, basketball or tennis on Sunday, Cisneros on Wednesday, warm shaving cream, freshly ironed shirts, spontaneity, waking up, Dilbert comics and the last 2 miles of a 6 mile run.
Expertise: having 5 continuous thoughts ambitions goals wishes fears anxieties fantasies at once, each bumping biting pushing pulling converging diverging repressing undressing and deconstructing each other in a beautifully wild fit of A D D.
Message: message me
Member Since:
5/14/2002
|
|
SubscriptionsSites I Read
|
|
|
|
| When love strapped me into her candy cane rocket, I took off with no direction, looped through the atmosphere, dipped deep into the atlantic and came back drenched in layers of sea salt and exhilaration. With passing seasons, the summer leaves on our television, and (fraudulent) claims to confections, we’ve emerged pan seared, medium rare, inspired, passionately enlivened, with a little twist of lime, and still, without a doubt, we'll remain absolutely, incurably, and hopelessly stuck on this sugar high.
| | |
| Big day tomorrow, I guess.
| | |
| As expected, Grace's wedding extravaganza marked the end of my summer. With Ernesto washing out this past weekends plans of rafting and golfing, I was able to stay inside for the most part and stress myself into believing that the coming LSATs will have enormous snowballing effects that can either end my life or make me into a dinosaur egg eating baller. On the brighter side of the storm, Andre was able to stay in the Open for one more day, eh?
A celebration also is in call as ETS looms its pretty little head around the corner.
Tennis in NY means Autumn is here! The sunlight will be missed, but the skeeters won't. Now that the kids are back to school, I can finally enjoy the peace of sitting on the train without a snotty little Stuyvesant kid talking about whatever it is that snotty Stuy kids talk about.
My weight has fluctuated so much this past summer, but the overall trend is upupup. If I can find a way to inverse my weight with my lsat practice scores, then I'd feel much more comfortable.
I got it! Crunchy nut bar?
As the little black boy who attended the wedding next to Graces screamed out so eloquently from the balcony, "Konichiwa Holms!"
| | |
| Ten years down the line, if I were to open up an archived copy of today's google news, I'd think the world was at war with Islamic militants. I'm far from a fan of Israel, but history should carry a message over from the last century; don't fuck with Israel.
What were those guys from the 101st thinking!? The story seems incredible to me.
A few weeks back, the NYTimes uncovered a secret, legal program the government used to track down terrorist finances. Good job, nytimes. There's plenty of blood to pass around.
You would figure, of all people, a successful doctor on the Upper East Side would know how to carry out and not botch up his own suicide.
At my local Sheapshead Bay sushi joint, a Russian family came with an entire bottle of Absolut and finished it straight with their sashimi delux.
In the summer of 69, Joan asked how many roads a man must walk down before they call him a man.
I want my ipod back. I'd like it if the skeeters bit me less. I'd like more time with her. I have the most realistic, fantastic memories of what I was doing and thinking about at this time last year.
It's the summer of Satchmo, wipe the sweat off your brow buddies, fire up the grill and we are all knock knock knockin on heaven's door.
| | |
|
