What can you do in 4 Hours in Hong Kong
In Short: Learn Chinese. I will be going to Sri Lanka. I have booked my plane fights which costs 1600 dollars and include 72 hours of travel, with a layover in Hong Kong and San Francisco. My Chinese layover is 4 hours which my travel agent assures me is enough time to leave the airport and see some of Hong Kong, I reamin a bit skeptical. My San Fran layover is like 10 hours. So if any of my faithful readers will be in the San Francisco area on April 19th, we should totally hang. ON that note if anyone has any suggestions on how to spend either layover I am all ears.
Tommorrow may well be the most important event in the annals of human history since last year's Superbowl, except this time, it's for a dynasty baby. That's right, my New England Patriots will be playing for their third title in 4 years and to claim their place among the greatest teams of all time. Very very intersting side note: with this win Bill Bellicheck will pass Vince Lombardi in playoff win percentage, leading some to conclude they will have to rename the damn trophy. For those of you unfamiliar with Vince Lombardi, he's the Dr. Dre of football coaches "he started this gansta shit, and this is the motherf***ing thanks he gets?" So I am mucho mucho amped for this clash of wills (ours being the more engorged with blood).
That last parenthetical aside leads me to a confession I've been avoiding for some time. The women on the talk shows are right, I do love my penis. This love is almost obsessive, well hell it is obsessive. Those same women would probably not be startled to find that I also mytholigize my genitals, but like the greeks, more in the vain of westerns. The junk gang was feared wherever they went. Lefty, a quick draw if ever their was one, always geting the trio into trouble. Righty, a college educated outlaw, he concocted the schemes while the final "member" busted at the seams. The leader of the junk gang was none other than blinky, a tireless desperado who was famous for ending each conflict as quickly as possible (often leaving the spectators wanting more). Together the junk gang roam the earth, looking for wrongs to right and imaginary urinal fires to fight. Looking for ladies in distress and more particularly, the particulars under their dress.
I have no idea where this post should go after that. I suppose I'll just sign off with the following, "wherever there are strippers, co-eds, punk chicks, goths,and corruptable catholic school girls, the junk gang will be there." My crotch is on a mission.
P. S. Does anybody else find it pretty sad that I'm a college graduate and not one of my posts has gone by without at least on dick joke. Well as they say, write about what you know...
Tommorrow may well be the most important event in the annals of human history since last year's Superbowl, except this time, it's for a dynasty baby. That's right, my New England Patriots will be playing for their third title in 4 years and to claim their place among the greatest teams of all time. Very very intersting side note: with this win Bill Bellicheck will pass Vince Lombardi in playoff win percentage, leading some to conclude they will have to rename the damn trophy. For those of you unfamiliar with Vince Lombardi, he's the Dr. Dre of football coaches "he started this gansta shit, and this is the motherf***ing thanks he gets?" So I am mucho mucho amped for this clash of wills (ours being the more engorged with blood).
That last parenthetical aside leads me to a confession I've been avoiding for some time. The women on the talk shows are right, I do love my penis. This love is almost obsessive, well hell it is obsessive. Those same women would probably not be startled to find that I also mytholigize my genitals, but like the greeks, more in the vain of westerns. The junk gang was feared wherever they went. Lefty, a quick draw if ever their was one, always geting the trio into trouble. Righty, a college educated outlaw, he concocted the schemes while the final "member" busted at the seams. The leader of the junk gang was none other than blinky, a tireless desperado who was famous for ending each conflict as quickly as possible (often leaving the spectators wanting more). Together the junk gang roam the earth, looking for wrongs to right and imaginary urinal fires to fight. Looking for ladies in distress and more particularly, the particulars under their dress.
I have no idea where this post should go after that. I suppose I'll just sign off with the following, "wherever there are strippers, co-eds, punk chicks, goths,and corruptable catholic school girls, the junk gang will be there." My crotch is on a mission.
P. S. Does anybody else find it pretty sad that I'm a college graduate and not one of my posts has gone by without at least on dick joke. Well as they say, write about what you know...
posted by pepekeroauc at 1:35 PM
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