The Poofy Chair

Breakdowns come and breakdowns go.
What are you going to do about it?
That’s what I want to know.

So I saw this movie the other day called The Puffy Chair. And I want to know what other people thought about it. I mean, non-movie reviewer types. – But I don’t know anybody. – But I want to discuss this freaking movie. – But I don’t know anybody.

So I do more coke, so I can work more hours, so I can make more money, so I can afford more coke. So I decided I need someone to go to see movies with. [So I can work more hours.] {Have you ever stopped to think, but then punched someone who used this stupid cliche?}

You – Child of the eighties. You have to be able to remember two of these three things without the memory of a sippy-cup involved.

1. Unicron
2. The Super Mario Brothers World 1-2 theme song.
3. Moonlighting

Me – I once made out with a fat mormon girl next to the locker-cages at my High School.


Me – Not an alchoholic. Would be willing to take a urine analysis for most things (do crayons show up on those?? Will check later).

You – Not likely to use the phrase “to pursue and embrace my relationship with Christ” just to break up with someone.

Me – I will always buy the first round of drinks. I will try my best to purchase every round of drinks. Stopping me and purchasing a round of drinks will be seen as a challenge to my virility, but I will allow it (not that virile, nor that wealthy).

You – Know what drugs are like. I’m not asking you to like drugs, I’m not asking you to _do_ drugs. I’m just saying that experimentation is an important part of development. Bonus points if you can hook me up with a fat sack (just joking (if you’re a cop) pps, please don’t be a cop). I will allow security guards or other para-enforcement employees, so long as you are not likely to write me a ticket for not wearing my seatbelt. Or cops, if you are TOTALLY hot. Also – Meth : love meth, use meth regularly? Please go away, oh, please god go away.


Me – I write stuff sometimes and work on computers a lot. There will inevitably come a time when you say something to me and you realize I’m not paying attention. You don’t need to get huffy, you just need to hit me or something, or like a gentle stabbing. Flesh wounds or lower, it’s all I ask.

You – Not likely to stab a man in an eye or other sensory organ. I’m serious about this one.

Me – There are dogs in my life, so there is dog hair on my stuff. You need to be comfortable about this. Also – I am NOT peanut free. I could give a fuck about your allergies, because me and Mr. Peanut are HOMIES. Bros before hoes, and all that. So please don’t be like the pickle phobia girl, but with peanuts.

Or pickles, I guess.

You – Seriously need to think about the eye thing. If I lose an eye, it’s not like I can just look at stuff with the other eye and it’s OK, this isn’t like a finger or arm or anything, the eyes work as a team. They’re like Starsky and Hutch, like Rita and Runt, like Balky and Larry. I’m really hoping we’re on the same wavelength about the eyes here.

Me – I listen to rap, and will occasionally act as a vessel for Eazy E. He leaves his life terminating AIDS in the afterlife.

You – Need to understand that if Ani DiFranco came back out into the world and asked me to join her for a night in bed, I would do it. It’s cool, you can come too, she didn’t un-gay I don’t think. If you’re not down for it, remember the eye thing. Think turkish ass-stabbings here. Big meaty, painful (I am a cyclist), but not particularly life threatening, and most importantly, not likely to be prosecuted as attempted murder.

Think about it, this is your one chance to say ‘I waggled it in front of the least eligible bachelor in Portland, and after his eyes lit up like a puppy, I whipped it away’. I promise, when my hopes get up, and you put me down hard, I even make the Ralph Wiggum noise.

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