Wednesday, February 25, 2004
OH, TO HELL WITH IT. I’VE CHANGED MY MIND.
The Chuck’s live, ladies and gentleman! Directly after writing that last piece, I’ve decided no puke, let alone nasty, stinky, rotten cat puke will keep me and my Chucky T’s apart. So I’m going to hose them off in the backyard and do exactly what I said I wouldn’t...have mom throw them in the wash machine. I just can’t part with them like this. I’m just too sentimental. You understand, right? I hope that you do.
May Chuck Taylor, the patron Saint of ass kickin’ sneakers, forgive me for my lapse in judgment and grant me many more years of comfort in this pair that I love so much. How about another 6 years?
Amen to that.
The Chuck’s live, ladies and gentleman! Directly after writing that last piece, I’ve decided no puke, let alone nasty, stinky, rotten cat puke will keep me and my Chucky T’s apart. So I’m going to hose them off in the backyard and do exactly what I said I wouldn’t...have mom throw them in the wash machine. I just can’t part with them like this. I’m just too sentimental. You understand, right? I hope that you do.
May Chuck Taylor, the patron Saint of ass kickin’ sneakers, forgive me for my lapse in judgment and grant me many more years of comfort in this pair that I love so much. How about another 6 years?
Amen to that.
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