Mo Murdaseille

Shit...everybody be callin me, facebook msgin me like, "so when you gonna blog bout France killa??"

It's like, god damn, bitches! What you want me to say [seille]?! I mean it was bomb, yea, but...1) Je ne travaille pas bien sous pression and 2) Does the word "inbloggable" mean anything to you? Like the old man with no larynx and the baller ascot, who gave us a ride from the vignobles to the centre ville in Cassis...in his chartreuse bagnole...how am I supposed to blog that?

Les nuages de Provence, the bite of the Mistrel on your fingers as you carry a chilled Chandon half across Marseille at three in the mawnin, the tinkle-tankle of yachts in the Villefranche harbor...oh la! A blog is just a metonym, ok? It doesn't have feelings...it hasn't learned to love.

Law School Registrar Scene (Vol. II)

(Today in hallway)

Liz Ingram (Assistant Registrar): Looks like some-body's got a tan!

BA: (internally) Looks like some-body's on my nuts!

LSAT Prep

MULTIPLE CHOICE:

1. What shape is the Internet?

2. What is the color of money?

3. What is the taste of birth control?





Walking home from the Caltrain I stopped at the gas station for an Evian, and the Mexicaings was tapping the beat to...I want to say Cucaracha, but the other one...da dum da dum da dum, da da da da dum da dum...with his fingers...I was choking so hard on the banality that I couldn't even manage a simple hoopa la gas-o-lee-na.