lance

It was cool to hear you on the podcast as well.
I wonder what non-summer school will be like for you. Will you still be teaching math?

I dunno, man... I got nothing

oh, my bad.

you are one of the good ones

...

perhaps, I have a habit of responding to these things too quickly

oh, well.

yes

hello, lance.

thanks for treating me like a lady

the day you got too cool for everything

umm can u tell me what just went on in the insomnia krew.

all i know is that people where yelling at me =/

so, i gave bubble another chance. i'm glad you mentioned it, because it was amazing ... probably my favorite soderbergh film.

certainly the same could be said of you

thanks

What up Brancely? When I do more Deadwood, do not fret...you will be some 1870's degenerate, either the good or bad kind.

anything in particular i'm doing recently that's causing the more irksome reactions lately? or are you just enjoying messing with me

just felt like i was annoying you, is all

i am sorry for being me

so, you've seen me at my lowest moment. entrusting an online message board to determine if the sandwich i described was safe to eat. even worse, i honestly believed that mayonnaise became deadly within hours because a drunk told me it did.

if you can think of a movie reference to save me ... i'd be eternally grateful, haha.

you don't read delillo??

The plane had lost power in all three engines, dropped from thirty-four thousand feet to twelve thousand feet. Something like four miles. When the steep glide began, people rose, fell, collided, swam in their seats. Then the serious screaming and moaning began. Almost immediately a voice from the flight deck was heard on the intercom: "We're falling out of the sky! We're going down! We're a silver gleaming death machine!" This outburst struck the passengers as an all but total breakdown of authority, competence and command presence and it brought on a round of fresh and desperate wailing. Objects were rolling out of the galley, the aisles were full of drinking glasses, utensils, coats and blankets. A stewardess pinned to the bulkhead by the sharp angle of descent was trying to find the relevant passage in a handbook titled "Manual of Disasters." Then there was a second male voice from the flight deck, this one remarkably calm and precise, making the passengers believe there was someone in charge after all, an element of hope: "This is American two-one-three to the cockpit voice recorder. Now we know what it's like. It is worse than we'd ever imagined. They didn't prepare us for this at the death simulator in Denver. Our fear is pure, so totally stripped of distractions and pressures as to be a form of transcendental meditation. In less than three minutes we will touch down, so to speak. They will find our bodies in some smoking field, strewn about in the grisly attitudes of death. I love you, Lance." This time there was a brief pause before the mass wailing recommenced. Lance? What kind of people were in control of this aircraft? The crying took on a bitter and disillusioned tone.

love you bro

nice avatar

Lying to my lance for April Fool's is painfulness

haha, i had a great time explaining to my girlfriend who "lance from dallas" was the other night. good times! p4kmeetupp4kmeetupp4kmeetup

LANCE YOU ASSHOLE

what have you done with brancely

first name user name krew

i should probably get that "e" uncapitalized though, huh

you DO have really soft hands.

i feel like since i've held your hand we should be friends on this internet thing

i don't have any friends.

So what's the secret, dude. How does one attain perma-grin?

Y'know you could become a motivational speaker on the ways of the perma-grin and make MAD money.

that was god awful.