[--------------------------------------------------------------------------] ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #826 `888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8 888 888 888 888 888 "Everything Reminds Me of Cheese" 888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 888 888 888 888 888 " by Effy 888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 9/20/99 o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8 [--------------------------------------------------------------------------] I sit here in front of my computer. It's late at night. I seem to be on the internet again. What am I doing here? Didn't I disconnect five hours ago? It reminds me of the time I surfed "velveeta.com" until the wee hours of dawn, as the gold-orange sunrise spilled smoothly over the horizon. I can sense the evil Chat Daemons dancing around my head. They swirl around and sing and dance and prance and laugh. They chant a melodic parody of Mary Poppins: "I love to chat! Ha-ha-ha-ha! Loud and long and clear! I love to chat! Ha-ha-ha-ha! It's getting worse every year!" For some reason, this reminds me of all forms and variations of cheese, from colby to blue! I think that it's because "chat" and "cheese" both start with a "ch" and are both one-syllable words. Glancing at my screen, I see I have ICQ open, as well as "www10.chathouse.com/rave"...and oh yes! I'm staring right into the face of #ezines! It's an exciting night as always. I have a lot of logs from #ezines. Ha! Logs! That reminds me of the cheese log that Des was supposed to send me for my birthday present! Of course, I never did receive one. It doesn't bother me really, except that for sometimes I can't stop thinking about what could've been... All this thinking is starting to wear me out. How late is it? Oh my. It's almost 4:30 AM. Well I'm not tired...not really. I could...aw, fuck it... .oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo. Soon I am fast asleep. I begin to dream marvelous dreams. I am walking in a field of wildflowers with TanAdept, Phairgirl, and a dozen orange cats. Since we chat in #ezines, the word "chat" reminds me of cheese. Soon we all have cheese logs and are hitting each other madly with them, while the cats leap and bound in harmony. The orange fur faintly resembles the color of cheese, and soon the cats' fur melts into beautiful, golden rivers of cheddar. All of this hype about cheese and cats makes me think of "An American Tail"... "There are no CATS in America, and the streets are full of CHEESE!" Things begin to spin before my rapidly blinking eyelids. Everything seems to be going in circles! Why does cheese make me think of cows? Is this why I write so many Hoe articles about cows? Oh my god! Bill has a cat named Patches that looks like a cow! Is this why Patches always made me think of cheese? I am living in Wisconsin! We have cheese! We have cows! Cheese and cows! That's why they go together. But cats and cows have nothing in common! Well, actually they both start with the letter "c"... and "cheese" also starts with one! Dude! But the set-in-stone thoughts of cheese outweigh any wavering thoughts of cows. I no longer need anything to remind me of cheese. My brain is turning to cheese. Cheese spread. Spoon my brains out of my ears and put it on a cracker. You'll be smarter. You might even start to like cheese. Or what if I were blue? Would you pour my brains on a salad? But wait, that's dressing. That strays from the ideal image of cheese. But wait a minute. Could I be string cheese? Mozzerella? I mean really. If you put me on a pizza, am I no longer cheese? Am I merely part of a pizza? I like Doctor Seuss. Why didn't he ever talk about cheese? It's goes so well with green eggs and ham. "Would you eat some cheese? Would you like it with a sneeze?" I live in a house made of Swiss cheese now. Sometimes my friends come visit me, and there are days when they are hungry. This makes me angry because then they eat my fucking walls, and I have to buy extra blankets for winter. I wish they made cheese roll-ups. I'm going to have to patch those holes in the walls with fucking bricks. Hehehe! Brick cheese! Wait! No! No! Fuck, no! I wish I were a Jersey cow. Why the hell can't I be one? Do they make cheese in New Jersey? Even if they don't, I bet they still eat it there. I wonder if Jon Bon Jovi likes cheese. After all, he was a cowboy ("I'm a cowboy! On a steel horse I ride!"). And cows have so much in common with cheese. Obviously they have a lot in common with Jon Bon Jovi. So does cheese. Maybe I'll send Jon Bon Jovi a cheese log for Christmas. Logs! Oh my fucking god! Where are the Hoes? What have they done with my cheese? For the love of GOD! Cheese-Wiz CHRIST Almighty! Help! Help! HELP! .oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo.oOo. I awake with a horrendous shudder. My eyeballs wiggle and curl in a disoriented consciousness. I am still at my keyboard. I am still in #ezines. I sigh with relief, because I've found the Hoes, and I have a premonition that all cheese, everywhere, is very, very safe. In a state of peace and accord, I reach for my nutty cheese log, and the velvetty smoothness of everyday life continues on. [--------------------------------------------------------------------------] [ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #826 - WRITTEN BY: EFFY - 9/20/99 ]