If I were an inner city teen, I’d for sure be in a bad street gang.
The Blips or The Cruds, whatever, because that’s the only way you can survive on the street, you see what I’m saying? I’d shave my head and wear some baggy clothes, too, with a nine in my pants and a knife in my sock, just to be safe. If they put metal detectors in school, well, then I would just stop going to school, because school is for losers, and I’d rather hang with my boyz anyway.
I’d be one bad dude. Fuck with me, man, look out.
But if my teacher were Michelle Pfeiffer, I’d be good to her. No backtalk, no lip. I’d smack down any of the other guys in the class who gave her a hard time, too. She’d just be a good, honest chick tryin’ to make the world a better place for guys like me. Oh, sure, she’d be hopelessly wrong about her chances. I mean, homies don’t turn nobody in to the cops, man. You’re marked for death, no matter how stupid the reason, you go out like a man, man.
But when you have those soft pink lips like Miss Pfeiffer, it makes dudes like me want to study Shakespeare, man. You see what I’m saying? And when you’re all sincere like she is in her intentions of educating me so I can do something positive with my life, like get a good job in the United States Army or even MacDonald’s, well, I just wouldn’t be able to resist her, you know what I’m talking about?
Shit. You know what I mean. I would learn long division and memorize fag poems because I would know, like I could just smell it, that under that denim shirt and that bullshit granny dress she wears to school, she got this:
“I would learn long division and memorize fag poems.” Oh Larry, you must do more than memorize those ‘fag’ poems to win someone like Pfieffer, you must actually understand & appreciate them. That’s what would set you apart from the other gangsters & she’d be able to see through you- so you betta not front see?
I’d listen to crappy Coolio songs for Michelle Pfiefer.
t1 – Bullshit. I know the drill: A little mushy talk, a little wine and candlelight, and whoops, the knees gently part. But I would gladly memorize many stanzas.
Brent – Word.
Oh Larry, you know that it takes more than that….
Ms. Pfiefer is the only reason why I have ever wanted to be a piano.
She Hulk – I know it won’t work on you. That’s why I’ve given up on you, and gone on to Miss Pfeiffer.
BJ – An honor to host your holy self at revision99. And yes, Miss Pfeiffer can hump my sound board any time.
I think you’ve hit on something very important here, Larry. The solution to teen delinquency, and the high school drop-out rate is to get a bunch of pretty, well-intentioned women to pose as teachers.
Hollywood is brilliant … and so are you!
She is holding together pretty darn well and aging gracefully (i.e., no horrendous plastic surgery yet), so she has my respect. I guess it’s good that she’s had all that success to she can choose not to work as much (at least I hope she’s choosing). Not bad for a former pot smoking grocery clerk beach chick.
I don’t think memorizing poems would do it, besides, poetry “confuses” you. He!
Steph – I don’t read the scandal sheets, so I’m not up on the body mods of the stars, and let’s face it: with movies, you are immortal. It doesn’t matter if she works a lot. I can see her makin’ whoopee on that piano any time.
G.D. – What if Johnny Depp memorized a few sonnets and recited them to you (or substitute your favorite boy toy). Even if you knew they were memorized, how long before you’d be tugging at his drawstring?
You’re right…I’m a sucker for poetry…but it would have to be Johnny Depp
Am I the only one who sees a contradiction built right in to that statement of G.D.’s?