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Why men don't call? This question is asked by thousand of women as they stand patiently by the phone waiting from a call from their respective partners. Well, from my personal perspective I believe it's an issue of commitment. Once they have passed the first stage of being all lovey-dovey with us, they see no more need of picking up the phone and calling us like they used to.
The first thing I have to tell you about crack, is that it's expensive. It's as expensive as it looks like it is on tv, and in the movies. Don't get into the game unless you've got the bank roll to play. If you don't have a high paying job, like I fortunately do, don't start. Stick with cigarettes. They're healthier for you anyways. Plus they don't cause blisters.
I hate anime`. I was raised with anime`, and next to a dubbed version of Rocket Robin Hood, anime` was the next best thing to that and a giant enema. I don't know if it's a common thing in Europe, but in Italy, even now, you flip on the channel and you can find re-runs of all the blasted anime` cartoons that I had to endure.
Living in modern society has its price, and Jury Duty is simply a part of that cost. Should you feel that the cost is too high, should you wish to avoid the burden, the following tells you the best way to escape.
It happens, once in a while, that you end up with a fresh dead body. Or corpse to be more precise. And you'll notice that the very first question that always comes to mind is not "who is this guy?" or "how did he die?" but more likely "how do I get rid of it?"
I wrote this list on a day when I was particularly mad with my boyfriend. Originally, it offended him, but eventually most guys I know confessed to the fact that it's all true. As for the girls, they agreed.
Drunk driving is the major sin of the decade. The police are out to catch you, the courts are out to punish you, and public disapproval is at a media intensified all time high, but people still do it. And with good reason, too. Some people get completely smashed and then have the balls to drive home.
You know the Nice Guy. He's kind, he's sensitive, he respects women. He doesn't think solely with his cock. He's madly in love with the Nice Girl, and is in state of limbo, waiting for the day when she realizes Nice Guy is the one for her. In the meanwhile, it means being alone on Saturday nights, trying to remember what sex feels like, and wondering why you try so hard to be nice yet never get rewarded for it. Will there come a day when you're more than just a good friend?
So I am sitting here in front of the computer staring at the screen thinking things like:
"Because they have the attention spans of a fruit fly."
There are some books that will bore you to tears. Books that are a waste of time just sitting there on the shelf. But you have to read them, because they are relevant, or because they help you understand things, or because just because. This series of articles looks at some of these books. This instalment: Silmarillion
We all started to watch and also feel summer wane all around us and headed to our friend's cottage for good times, relax and spend an afternoon building a trebuchet using a whole lot of twine!
Outside throngs of kiddies, accompanied by parents with visibly frayed nerves (as is always the case whenever large packs of toddlers gather) were waiting in the pale sunshine. Large signs proclaimed that there was to be a movie premiere. This was just perfect. Basil Baxter loves movie premieres. He loves any reason for crowds to gather.
It was early in the morning. Outside the birds sang. It was going to be a sunny spring day. Basil had just disconnected a phone call from the contractor; his cement truck was due to arrive in three hours. He sat down to finish his breakfast. (Kitten with pancakes and syrup.)
There was a long line at the venue. Fortunately Basil had had the foresight to arrange backstage passes so he whistled a little tune as he nonchalantly sauntered past the waiting throng to the VIP entrance. His passes were all-access and one special one that would give him dressing-room access.
Today's event would be an exceptionally good one. Having all but completely depleted the sordid pool of muck that is TV-formats that end with "with the stars", the TV production company had moved on to "with the children". Basil Baxter can think of many things to do that involve children. Mostly it also involves either killing them or recruiting them as assassins.
The vicar had made a moving speech. The bride and groom were very much in love. The mothers had cried, the fathers were still swaying from the copious amounts of beer they had imbibed at the bachelor party. It looked like rain, but for now it was still dry. It was a pretty spring morning and blossoms floated through the air. It was going to be a pretty picture, just how pretty, only Basil knew.
WELCOME TO ISSUE 10. With projects and major assignments finished with school, it is possible to finally concentrate in front of this issue and absorb some more of that healthy radioactive glow that monitors emanate.
Thank you for your interest in joining Basil Baxter on his drive to purge the world of all that possesses life. Your kind letter has brightened Basil Baxter's day.
She walks the last stretch home. It's nearly summer, which means their street is nearly not as depressing. Post-war brownstone blocks. Satellite dishes on the tiny balconies. Garbage bags at the door, waiting to be collected.
Once this was paradise. Her uncle and father helped her renovate the small apartment. Two men who shared her tastes, and her unshakeable belief that, in fact, their tastes, their beliefs, their opinions, were in a way better than anyone else's. People she could work with.