Let Them Ho’s Fight

I’ve been playing guitar with my roommate Chris a lot recently. We’ve been a little reluctant to call ourselves a band though, as we haven’t had a gig, or really written anything. Until Chris came up with the name: Tyranasaurus Sex. The logo I’m envisioning is a Tyranasaurus with jet black hair cascading over his shoulders as he reclines on a satin bed. If any artists are reading this and would like to draw up a version of that or anything else involving a sexy Tyranosaur, I’d totally let you sit in on one of our rehersals. To just watch, or play, we’re pretty open. We primarilly do folk rock stuff with a sprinkle of nasty R & B thrown in.

I’m bored at work, so I just did a free writing exercise. Here it is:

Where did the phrase panty waste come from? You know? Does it mean, like “I wouldn’t waste a good pair of panties on you.” Cause if that’s the deal, who gives a shit? Or does it mean “You’re about as useful as a pair of panties. Which isn’t very useful at all, for anything other than covering vaginas. So why don’t you go cover up a vagina and stop wasting my time. You waste of space. You panty waste of space. You panty waste of Space Jam, the partially animated Michael Jordan movie. That’s how much you mean to me. As much as a crappy 90s version of Bugs Bunny, in a jersey. In space.” I bet it probably means the latter one. Pretty vicious.

Nice. Just killed a half an hour. See ya dudes!