If You Want to Live, You Should Not...

Read something on which I have written "January 4, 2006" and then leave me a sticky note that says, "Maybe it should say, 'Wednesday, January 4, 2006.'"

Wear a train conductor's hat and sing some silly song about not wanting to be anything other than a prison guard's son. Just fucking be one, then, and take off the hat. And then shave your head. Basically everything going on up there is wrong and full of ick.

Say, "Oh, Erin." Then turn around, walk away, and then do that fucking two finger beckoning thing that I suspect only rich women do to their maids to get me to follow you to where you can show me the 14 million things you want me to do that there are no logical reasons for me to do.

Talk in such a way that there is a distinct possibility that if you were on tv, the little bouncy ball would be travelling down your words.

Be a drunk Irish boy who is very gropey and impossible to understand. And then don't grab my friends. And then don't sniff me.