Hi. This isn’t actually Chinese Lettuce, as you may or may not realize by the punctuation and lack of spelling errors. This is the Chocolate Chicken, and I’m bored with writing my own gay-ass blog, so I decided that I’d hop on over here to my boy’s blog and try to write a post in his own special voice. This is extremely experimental and probably akin to a shitty creative writing exercise by an eighteen year old Sarah Lawrence English major, so feel free to skip this turd and come back when the real man deigns to drop knowledge again.
when i lived in boston me and my homie would drink to much and then the next day walk around allston and look at stuff an the hopes that it would cure us. there was lots of crappy stuff in allston that dind’t cure us like ambercrobie waring white people, liquor stores, and fixed gear bikes rapped in bandanas. and then one day we went by the pet store and saw the most magical creatchures ever existed called the hairless ball rats. they were called that because they were bald and had balls about half as big as they’re body. i don’t know if they cured our hangovers but they were awesome enough that we stopped hating the world for a little bit. we decided to become friends of life and love hairless ball rats forever. a different friend of mine got a tattoo that says friends of life but no ball rat. mistake.
Direct any criticism/commentary toward Chinese Lettuce. I feel like I channeled him as well as anyone would, which scares me while alleviating my wariness regarding death’s sweet sting. Keep on keeping on, Chinese Lettuce.
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