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Like Sperm Through a Narrow Urethra, So Are the Updates of My Journal - The Annals of Young Geoffrey: Hope brings a turtle [entries|archive|friends|userinfo]
Young Geoffrey

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Like Sperm Through a Narrow Urethra, So Are the Updates of My Journal [Jul. 3rd, 2004|03:32 pm]
Young Geoffrey
[Author's note: I originally posted the following on June 6, then almost immediately locked it up tight, thinking I had over-stepped even my own questionable exhibitionistic limits. But Laura has since given me permission to air it, so what the hell.]

's a funny thing: You don't update for a while, and you start to feel as if you've been neglecting a good friend, letting an unfinished email molder away while you get anxiety attacks as your life goes on and you feel like you have to tell them everything.

Well, I'll try - but be warned: This will be random and sketchy and definitely not in any kind of chronologically relevant order. You can read behind the cut.

My Sweety's In the Slammer or,
The Perils of Involving Oneself With a Yung'un


Okay, not the slammer, but close enough.

"L" and I were supposed to get together yesterday, but for reasons which are no one's business but hers (and, by extension, I suppose, mine), her mum came down on her hard and she's grounded for the foreseable future. (Yes, I am aware of how ludicruous it sounds for a man my age to have a ... well, whatever we are (one of these days, we really have to discuss just what kind of relationship we are involved in) so young as to be at her mother's mercy that way.)

But there we are and here am I. Frustrated. Horny. Empathetic. Unproductive.

I did write her a letter, though, hoping to make her smile, which tickles me enough to .

Ha there, [L]-girl, this here be Geofry's cuzin', Geoffro. I be ritin this here e-male on account a mah pa, Geffrey's uncle Varn (wut's in that firsty pitcher), done come by with a jug a his white-litening ("Moonshine, ya dumb-fuck!" That there was Geoffrey, what's lookin' over mah shoulder while I hit these here little lettrkeys. He too blind to type, uparently, but not two blind ta read).


firsty pitcher


Anyway, Varn and I done come over with that there jug on account a Geoffry wuz so sad to here you be stuck in th hoozegal an all.

Well, Varn, he had sum ideas 'bout that and we 3 done talked for hour an ours an ours bout wut we cud do bout yer sitooasun.

- we shud jest bust her on outta thar, Yung Geoffy done said. He wuz waving aroun' his his 22 like it was a machiny-gun from a war movie.

- But Varn, he warnt so shore. That there Forestie Hill be a purty good garded gaol, Varn sed, an even Young Geoffry nodded his haid after a whall. Varn said, ain't no good in us 3 gettin' ourselfs kilt an' yer Sweet Laura still sittin behind them thar bars. That gone do Nobody no good.

Now Young Geoffrey, he warnt at all happy to heer thet, but after a spell a ragin' round, beatin' on the walls till his fists was bloody, he done had sum more o Varns 'shine and calmed down a bit.

- We gotta some SUMpin! he said, and Varn he agreed.

- We ain't got the firepower to jest break her out, Varn said, so wes gotta be smart.

- How we gon do that? Geffry sed.

Now Varn, he got that look in his eye like raybeems gon be shootin out of em any minute now. His forehead dun got all them creasy lines in it like his haids gonna splode.

Me an Young Geoffrey jes sitted back an let Varn think. You dun wanna intrupt that brain o Varns, not wile hes a thinkin cause he's as like ta bite yo haid right off ifn ya do.

- At last, Varn he took anuther swig o shine an said I gots me an ideer. We gunna make yer girl Laurie a *cake*! An we gonna send it to her!

- Whut good THAT gonna do? Yong Gefry done asked, but Varn he splained it real good.

An so we we baked you an we all think yer gonna love it. Don't mind wut it looks like, it tastes real good I bet - that there Varns always makin funnys, even when hes a-bakin'. Anyways I bet you aint never seen such an amount a flower rainin all OVer a room, but we done got it made.


a cake



Whal, that theres about it, I guess. Varn, he's sleepin in the bathtub (but he said hi there before an I got a picture what's inside this letter) an Young Geoffrey he be wavin side to side behind me like a like a coon dog after a swim in Varns still, but hes awake nuff ta tell me ta say he misses you an hes awful sad yer in jail an he caint wait till you get out and hopes ya finds in that there cake.


wat ya need



An he says he want ta kiss you an hug you an - wait a minut! I caint rite that! No way, ah may not be the holiest man in town but Is still a cristeean!

Lets jest say he misses you a powerful lot an leave it be, kay?

Kay, yung geoffrey, hes got his coon gun out agin an hes makin me write a tad mor.

- I miss you, sweet [L] and wen you bust out, ahm gonna take you to any restirant ya want. an then ahm gonna kiss ya, an hold ya an fonel ya an ah aint never gunna let ya go.

Luv, luv, luv,

Yer nurd,


g




So yes, L and I have been getting along very well. We spent 3 days (but not nights, damn it!) together during my blissful week of unemployment and she popped in a couple of times before school (for her) and work (for me) last week. Bloody strange "relationship", I must say ...

Anyway, yesterday's bad news left me in a disappointed and lethargic mood. I thought about finding a patio on which to quench my misery and pondered making my way to the far north to attend
Vienneau's bash, but couldn't bring myself to face the TTC (I hope it was a good one) and so ensconsed myself with my pipe, some Chinese food and watched all but the 2nd overtime of last night's hockey game.

Yes, Young Geoffrey is an exciting boy ...

Hi Ho! Hi Ho! It's Off to Work We Go!


The new job is good. Very good, in fact. It's close to overwhelming, because there is a hell of a lot to learn, and because I've had no formal training, but it's a lot of fun to be learning at work again.

It's also wonderful to be with a company whose values I share, that is small (moving from a 5,000 person wannabe-conglomerate to a 7-person non-profit is quite a shock in and of itself). Also, 401 Richmond Street West is a marvellous building; the ceilings are 12 or 14-feet high, the floors are wood and the windows open! Even better, there is a beautiful garden on the roof - when I get my camera working, I'll see what I can do about posting some photos from there.

And Young Geoffrey Closes In On Upright Citizen Status


10 down, 1 to go. I've got every year but one of back-taxes filled-out and ready to file. I went on a tax-form filling jag last weekend, only to realize that I - somehow - didn't realize that I don't have a copy of 1999's tax-forms. Tomorrow, I call and request the form and then, as soon as it comes in, I finish this tedious process and send all of 'em in.

Sigh ...


All right. This is getting tedious and I have yet to eat breakfast. Off to the Simpsons with me!
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Comments:
From: vinegarjones
2004-06-06 02:44 pm (UTC)
Hey brother...Got me the same ailment.

Lovin' a youngin' is the diagnosis. I'm 32 and this week I actually uttered the sentence "Will it bother your parents if I call?"

She's 19 and ffffffffffine!

But it's a weird emotional flashback.

Oh BTW your office really is beautiful in a weird contrived way. I was a courier off and on for a couple of years.
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