Posted on May 13, 2010 |
9 Comments
If it looks like a hippie, acts like a hippie and smells like…to be fair, Mom wore Shalimar perfume rather than the heavy scent of body odor, vegetarian flatulence, doobies and patchouli that hung in a dense cloud around most of our friends, who, incidentally, could usually be found in a van with curtains in our driveway if they weren’t living in a teepee in another friend’s yard. Or they could also be off in Hawaii living on a naked commune getting some woman with hairy legs pregnant, sending us postcards of said naked pregnant stranger. I remember asking my dad, “why do Frank’s farts smell like that?” “Because he only eats fruit,” dad replied.
Continue Reading...
