Title: I'm here. Almost against my will. Source:
4um URL Source:http://freedom4um.com Published:Aug 30, 2024 Author:Dr. Kimmy Post Date:2024-08-30 18:21:57 by Esso Keywords:None Views:1341 Comments:47
Pac texted me matter of factly that one of his old girlfriends was going to his house to keep him *company.*
OVER MY DEAD BODY! I trust Jim but I don't trust the women chasing him. I've been working too much anyway.
I'll never get Jim into my world. He's too set in his ways. At least he still had his pants and shoes on when I got there.
He's not getting away again like he did in 1980. I need to get a ring on him. I love him so much I can't describe it.
My sister called me this morning and said the Cruze auction is going on up in Auburn this weekend. She said there's supposed to be some really cool cars up there weekend. I haven't seen anything about it.
I looked at WANETV this morning to see what the big deal was about the tire fire where New Haven Ave. and Wayne Trace come together about a mile west of me.
I should take a page out of Jim's playbook. He doesn't care about money, he cares about people. He spends more money on needy people than he does on himself the clown car notwithstanding.
My net worth pending my divorce decree is probably similar to Jim's while my current income is about fifteen to twenty times what Jim's is.
If I was two years older I'd retire and get my social security payments. When I get to sixty-two the minimum age will be sixty-five. At sixty- five it will be seventy. I doubt I have that much time from what I seen at work.
You need to teach me how to use those fucking Kroger digital coupons.
It's Meijers. Ask them for a card thingy. Then fill out all the paperwork. Then they have you, but send coupons for stuff you actually use. It's a trade off, but after extensive research I was able to confirm that none of my coupon info was shared with Argentina!
“When the manager, escorted by the pilgrims, all of them armed to the teeth, had gone to the house this chap came on board. ‘I say, I don’t like this. These natives are in the bush,’ I said. He assured me earnestly it was all right. ‘They are simple people,’ he added; ‘well, I am glad you came. It took me all my time to keep them off.’ ‘But you said it was all right,’ I cried. ‘Oh, they meant no harm,’ he said; and as I stared he corrected himself, ‘Not exactly.’ Then vivaciously, ‘My faith, your pilot-house wants a clean-up!’ In the next breath he advised me to keep enough steam on the boiler to blow the whistle in case of any trouble. ‘One good screech will do more for you than all your rifles. They are simple people,’ he repeated. He rattled away at such a rate he quite overwhelmed me. He seemed to be trying to make up for lots of silence, and actually hinted, laughing, that such was the case. ‘Don’t you talk with Mr. Kurtz?’ I said. ‘You don’t talk with that man—you listen to him,’ he exclaimed with severe exaltation. ‘But now—’ He waved his arm, and in the twinkling of an eye was in the uttermost depths of despondency. In a moment he came up again with a jump, possessed himself of both my hands, shook them continuously, while he gabbled: ‘Brother sailor... honour... pleasure... delight... introduce myself... Russian... son of an arch-priest... Government of Tambov... What? Tobacco! English tobacco; the excellent English tobacco! Now, that’s brotherly. Smoke? Where’s a sailor that does not smoke?”
“The pipe soothed him, and gradually I made out he had run away from school, had gone to sea in a Russian ship; ran away again; served some time in English ships; was now reconciled with the arch-priest. He made a point of that. ‘But when one is young one must see things, gather experience, ideas; enlarge the mind.’ ‘Here!’ I interrupted. ‘You can never tell! Here I met Mr. Kurtz,’ he said, youthfully solemn and reproachful. I held my tongue after that. It appears he had persuaded a Dutch trading-house on the coast to fit him out with stores and goods, and had started for the interior with a light heart and no more idea of what would happen to him than a baby. He had been wandering about that river for nearly two years alone, cut off from everybody and everything. ‘I am not so young as I look. I am twenty-five,’ he said. ‘At first old Van Shuyten would tell me to go to the devil,’ he narrated with keen enjoyment; ‘but I stuck to him, and talked and talked, till at last he got afraid I would talk the hind-leg off his favourite dog, so he gave me some cheap things and a few guns, and told me he hoped he would never see my face again. Good old Dutchman, Van Shuyten. I’ve sent him one small lot of ivory a year ago, so that he can’t call me a little thief when I get back. I hope he got it. And for the rest I don’t care. I had some wood stacked for you. That was my old house. Did you see?’