The Quest for Chorizo
(Friday Five):
1. What does it say in the signature line of your emails?
“It’s not what you call me, but what I answer to.”
2. Did you have a senior quote in your high school yearbook? What was it? If you haven’t graduated yet, what would you like your quote to be?
I didn’t have a senior qoute b/c the administration scrapped the senior layout and opted for a 16 page tribute to the Flag Football team instead. But, for yearbook signatures, I alternated between shout-outs to 2 of my personal anthems: the rowdy-n-subversive “Hack the system!” war cry via Hackers, and the watch-for-me “Remember my name” warning via Fame. Both lame and impossibly posuerish, yes, but I was clueless as hell and had no idea.
3. If you had vanity plates on your car, what would they read? If you already have them, what do they say?
I am vehicularly-challenged. But if I could plant my vanity shit on an A train car, it’d read: Sweet&Low: Act Like You Know.
4. Have you received any gifts with messages engraved upon them? What did the inscription say?
My mom gave me a rifle on my 16th birthday with a card attatched that said, “Jesus loves winners.” Ok, not really. That was Becky Leeman, but whatever.
5. What would you like your epitaph to be?
He was so far behind, he often thought he was ahead.
(His hair was cute, though.)
***
Strange fact #42: Butterflies are called what they are b/c ppl used to think they stole butter.
*cough* I think a certain little somebody whom I know really well and on the regular (probably reading this right now) is about to get a big big suprise dropped on them… Watch your head and please evacuate your comfort zone NOW. */cough* 
So, I braved that subzero windchill, and hopped right on the 7 train and away from my beloved Manhattan this morning. Yes sir, packed my iPod, my wallet and passport, and trekked my ass right out of modern civilization and into Queens obscurity, where I wandered the outskitrs, rubbles and ruins of Long Island City. It was a scurry ordeal, far more horrifying than I even thought possible, as the Manhattan skyline just kept getting smaller and smaller… but I kept stedfast and marched onward. I was a man on a mission.
My quest proved victorious. I eventually spotted the FreshDirect.com depot, found my way to the pickup spot, and emerged from the warehouse with 10lbs of spicy mexican chorizo in tow. TEN POUNDS of pure Tejano grub. None of that shitty, pre-smoked, Domincan junk for me — Mi gente, usted todo sabe de lo que estoy hablando — I got the REAL freakin’ McCoy. It’s all sitting in my freezer right now! Now I’m off to the corner market to stock up on eggs, peppers, and flour tortillas. We’re doing things serious up in here, ya’ll.
Spriteboy Fact #139: I secretly wish that every step I took in this damn city left a glowing footprint. That way we’d all know where I’ve been, and I maybe could catch up with myself.
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, so I’m riding the Poverty Train for the next month or so. No spring trips to Europe for me, it seems. No more NOTHING, dude. But I’m far too young to spend all my time obsessing about bills anyway, my bills are steep but it’s not like I’m in scary debt or anything… at least not yet. Count my blessings or whatever. Gotta keep working and whatnot.