you fellas are... well.... gross...

Thanks for having the presence of mind to email this to me ERIC OF THE PAST!


From: "Eric Thompson"
Subject: bullcrap
Date: Tue, 16 Jan 2001 04:16:31

Eric says:
i be back
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
si, señor...
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
would you like to guess the average amount of unused ram I have at any given moment?
Eric says:
damn you like those tilts don't ya?
Eric says:
no i would not
Eric says:
but you'd like to tell me
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
si, señor...
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
why not, it's fun... ...not to mention funny...
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
and fairly sad...
Eric says:
hehe
Eric says:
3 megs
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
of my glorious(and pathetic) 32mb of ram, I usually have around 20kb free at any given point in time... ...and yes, I said kb... ...and I meant kb...
Eric says:
hehe
Eric says:
very impressive
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
DUDE!! 56KB!!!!
Eric says:
shit yo!!! you do rule
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
rock on, I can fucking... ...look at a picture or something...
Eric says:
hahahahahahahahahahaha
Eric says:
yes, well i can always fucking look at a picture
Eric says:
hahaha
Eric says:
or 700
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
fuck... ...you, and you, and you, and you, and you, and you... ...oh, and you in the back, fuck you too...
Eric says:
me too?
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
yeah, you in the chair, fuck you... ...yes, you, you right there typing on the keyboard, I'm talking to you...
Eric says:
oh man
Eric says:
i don't even know how!!!
Eric says:
do i need string cheese?
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
yes, and lots of it... ...it's the standard tool for foreplay... ...everyone know's that string cheese is the #1 sexual aid known to man...
Eric says:
they do?!!!
Eric says:
GOD! i'm such an idiot!
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
yeah, where the hell have you been?!
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
oh, wait, you're Pakistani, aren't you?
Eric says:
i thought wrenches were still #1
Eric says:
well......yeah
Eric says:
yeah!!! here comes my favorite part
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
you guys aren't allowed to even talk about string cheese, I forgot... ...it's against section four of your constitution... ...you're really going out on a limb asking me about it...
Eric says:
YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN ME!!!!!!
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
aren't you afraid that "big brother" is watching?
Eric says:
dude, it's section 5!
Eric says:
what are you, jewish?
Eric says:
section 4 says that any female who is over 27 years old and has a brother named Al may be punished by being beaten with a blunt piece of cheese
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
oh, well, sorry, I'm not exactly a scholar in Pakistani history... ...and no, I'm no damn jewish yutz... ...I'm from the fucking People's Front of Judea...
Eric says:
sweet yo
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
ok, well, now I know...
Eric says:
yes you do
Eric says:
keep 4 and 5 straight man
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
sorry...
Eric says:
thanks, i forgive you
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
ok...
Eric says:
want me to give you some sexual forgiveness favors?
Eric says:
YOU LIED TO ME!!!!!!!!
Eric says:
FOLLOW ME!!!
Eric says:
FOLLOW ME!
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
you'd better be forgiving me, you damned porkless, chocolate snorting, FIGGY PUDDING PACKER!!!!
Eric says:
son of a bitch!!!!!!!
Eric says:
how'd you know that????!!!!
Eric says:
i'm gonna beat the fuck out of whoever told you i was porkless!!!
Eric says:
damitt that was a secret
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
yeah, you'd better be givin' me some damn good sexual forgiveness favors 'er I'll be reporting you to your superior...
Eric says:
who's that?
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
WHAT?!
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
you don't know who your fucking superior is?!
Eric says:
umm....my mom?
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
you're dumber than I though, you fuckin' rock fucker...
Eric says:
oh yeah?????
Eric says:
well you know what?
Eric says:
i can play any damn fuckin heavy metal song on the whole fuckin planet shit fuck
Eric says:
so suck on that you self-mutilating, pig pleasuring, shit head
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
yer mom?! what a joke... ...fuckin' Kevin Costner, you stupid polar bear raper!!
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
ist, I mean...
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
rapist...
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
and there's fuckin' nothing wrong with self-mutilation!! So FUCK OFF!!1
Eric says:
BASTARD!!! don't you even bring my cousin into this!
Eric says:
jeff did nothing to you!!!!! i don't deserve this
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
yeah, 'im and 'is damn black skin!!
Eric says:
i'm just so sick and tired of this bullshit day after day after day
Eric says:
don't be surprised in one day you come home from work and i'm gone
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
shave all that bastard's white hair off and he'd be black as a fucking asshole...
Eric says:
just gone, and you're left with nobody to make you cum like orgasmatron on overdrive
Eric says:
you won't be screaming your passionate song of fucking love any more
Eric says:
and someday.....someday....i shall burn it
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
right...
Eric says:
i'll just chop it off and throw it on the fire like a log
Eric says:
a very tiny log......
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
dude, don't refer to my severed dick as a log...
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
please?
Eric says:
FUC....well i suppose i could do you that one bit of dignity
Eric says:
i'll throw it on the fire like a twig
Eric says:
a thin brittle twig......
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
that's better, thank you...
Eric says:
you're welcome
Eric says:
i just can't do this anymore, doug
Eric says:
i'm tired of arguing
Eric says:
maybe you should just go to bed and never wake up now
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
ok...
Eric says:
alright
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
si, señor...
Eric says:
man that drained me
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
me too... ...I haven't a thought left in my head...
Molitov Cocktail Party says:
hey, did you finish that crossword thing for World?
Eric says:
hell no

A Birthday Card...

Today Carol saved my afternoon...

I got a call last night from Eric that ended with a reassurance that it was alright if I didn't get back to him right away.

"...cause today has been like the worst day of my life..."

The statement tripped me up for a second... possibly because I was, by this point in the evening, quite nicely dosed, but more probably because prior to eruption of birthday festivities in my honor I had been feeling something very much akin to the anxiousness I heard in Eric's words. Finals are upon us once again... like a heavy cloud of noxious gas that forces you into a corner and demands that you cough up everything everything you posess in the vain hopes that it will eventually dissipate.

This morning I woke up. Twenty-One. Blip. Now my brief reprieve had gone and I was thrust suddenly back into the cloud.

Class is never a helpful activity once one has become firmly confined to the cloud. The goals are clear, the topics have all been covered, further learning is at a virtual standstill. The date printed on the plane ticket in the back of your mind has begun to correspond to the dates at the distant margin of the extended weather forecast. If one could simply hop into a cocoon for what will look in a week and a half like the latest tick mark on an endless list of indistinguishable weeks of academic discomfort then everything would certainly pan out.

The clock strikes one, Peanut and I collect our things and exit our temporary cell for the march back to one of several available prisons.

"Library..." He mumbles, and I nod acknowledgment mumble something that vaguely resembles "Dorm". We gesture and part, telling our respective selves that if work goes well this afternoon we'll all get together in the evening and distract one another.

Now my mind drifts, and I only catch up with myself to notice that I'm not really walking toward the dorm, but toward the mailroom. I reach inside the slot and grasp the thick, precisely folded paper of a greeting card. I pull out my knife and open the purple envelope. There will be money; there's no time given to questions concerning currency. It's the guts that count, the loopy scrawl of one Thompson parent or the other bringing words of encouragement, idiom, cynicism, cliché, nostalgia.

The colorful exterior, containing a joke about college and its implications in the new world of public drinking, gives way to a tundra-like emptiness of the thick paper, punctuated only by the words "Happy 21st Birthday" in a monospaced Courier.

Beneath this lettering Carol's note reads:

Let the Happy Hour Begin!
Eric and I started without you but I have a beer with your name on it, so I am expecting a visit sometime over Christmas. It has been quite dull drinking alone but now we can really make Steve pout!
No Grilled Cheese this year -- I figured you could use some moola for whatever -- $21 of course because my "Doris Jr. OC" disorder is surfacing!
Hope you are surviving finals and papers. See you soon.
Love,
The Thompson Clan


Things will change this Christmas. Things have already changed. I am renewed. Maybe this year "home" will bring us something more fulfilling than the gentle back-and-forth rocking of displeasure that compels us to leave and then once more to return. I feel good. I feel hungry.

The cloud will squeeze and I will swelter, pouring my essence onto paper, draining so many bullet points out on to the cumulative outline of "achievement". And then I'll dry off and come home to the place where change and stagnation meet each other in comforting equilibrium.

Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall...and many more...

Hooray for today, the day when we are all three of age for the legal consumption of alcomahol. Take that, world...