Tag Archives: bread
HD PROMO

HD PROMO – SARA – Most

Sara and Bread

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STRING THEORY

STRING THEORY

Thick August fog rolled in this afternoon, reminding me of my time stocking cans at the local Spartan Store. The dangerous thing about a summer fog is the uncertainty it brings. You can’t get your bearings, don’t know where the driveway ends and the road begins. Makes you question your decision to purchase three slip n slides and leave em in the box all summer. It’s little questions that pile up in a fog. Your mind drifts from concerns about deflationary measures taken by the Fed to more immediate concerns. Where are my keys? Did I feed them to a giant pink frog last night? And if so, how did he escape my dreams? Some questions have answers, though. How many loaves of bread will that local Spartan Store allow you to purchase before getting the sheriff involved? 87. How many loaves of said bread will fit in your mouth in this kind of humidity? 86. What becomes of that extra loaf? Using mustard to draw signs of the zodiac on each slice you will later claim was there when you bought it as a way of impressing your dinner guests? Impressing them that you know where to get the really good bread, the kind with all the pretty designs, and they don’t? Or do you just humble yourself, find the receipt, and take the bread back to the Spartan Store and blame your buying frenzy on this horrible fog?

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The Hated Bowling

The Hated Bowling

Of all the lesser sports, Bowling is perhaps the most hated. It is considered lower than hockey, field hockey and air hockey. Better society looks upon bowlers with naked contempt. Twice in this nation’s history, talk at the congressional level has turned to banishment and forced exiling of bowlers. The great Olympic committee, who considers shooting the leaders of eastern European states a competition worthy sport, will never award a bowler a copper metal. Never. It has in fact stripped champions of the better sports of their medals for being seen in public bowling alleys. But I stand with the bowlers. I share their outlaw/layabout status. I take great pride in putting on shoes that do not belong to me and consuming gas station-level hot dogs during competition. I, too, have the urge to knock down things that stand at the end of a narrow lane. I enjoy spending summer days inside a dimly lit hall better suited for lodge men or, during hard times, indoor parking. I have no concern for the opinion of rich men. I am not looking to be written up in the society pages. I am looking to express my patriotism in the only way I know how: spending precious money on a polished, black, heavy ball that can never ever be used for any practical purpose whatsoever and throwing it, repeatedly, on the floor in front of others.

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SARA: Bread

SARA: Bread

SARA: And what’s more, it’s sliced!

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