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the hell of no interval
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revisiting a favorite restaurant after a long time away only to be sorely let down by how the new kitchen staff interprets your favorite order.
reading a compelling book that afer holding your attention and keeping you riveted 95 percent of the way through disintegrates into a weak, bullshit ending
being baited by weeks of sweet-talk and innuendo into traveling hundreds of miles out of your own way just to experience the most expensive and ego-crushing case of blue-balls
every M. Night Shyamalan film since The Sixth Sense
And, since fecal matter seems to be a popular subject today...
running gingerly to the restroom thinking that with all of the pressure and shifting about you feel in your guts that you're about to shit forth Mount Everest only to drop something roughly equal in size to a large baby carrot or a flash-drive
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060209
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