let it be known by one and all that Hobo Barista is pretty much my hero right now. i’d totally have an illicit girly crush on her she’s so awesome, but no worries…i don’t….yet.
i am inspired by the initiative and dedication to a good cause. and simply put, she has an excellent turn of phrase. i like the sculpture of her language. plus, she is good people for reals. and it’s comforting to know someone who shares practically identical views on spawning and whatnot.
not only did i wash (and fold) all of my laundry tonight without a single injury, but i also saved my beloved raiders dress (just like the one in pictured, but much bigger because i am teh huge) from the perils of color-run bleeding/icky red dye splotches due to an errant halloween accessory. yay!!!! i also saved a pair of khakis that were suffering the same unfortunately stained fate. thank christ. plan b was a random laundry treatment chemical that jc from job #2 suggested. plan c was take my dress to the cleaners and pray that the icky red blotches could be removed — of course they were on the silver/grey paneling where it was so obvious, of course! and plan d was to most likely get a new one. or cry some more.
but i prevailed! scrubbing and pre-treating and making a big ol’ soggy mess in the bathroom and my dress is good as new again. yayers! even better because the silver & black boys are coming off a victory over washington. victory all around! w00t!!!
i dare say i may be close to breaking the dreaded Laundry of Doom curse…at least, i hope so.
patsquatch party. cow dancery (also, radioactive zombie cow dancery). movie of absolute hilarity. one psycho-kitty-free morning. silver & black victory. jason lee breakdancery. LCD awesomeness. salamanders & sandpeople on tv.
did my weekend fucking rock or what?
yeah…
see the super-efficient use of time at work? notice how much focus and drive i put into my daily routine?
yeah…me neither. but in other news, scrambled eggs & a vat of grease on dough is not pizza…it’s not worthy of even being lumped in the same delicious category as pizza. and woe unto the poor fuck who dares threaten me with an impending “awards ceremony” that features such a desecration of an otherwise delicious food.
woe, indeed.
this:
July 3, 1996
Today I bought a small Frosty. This may not seem significant, but the fact is: I’m lactose intolerant. Purchasing a small Frosty, then, is no different than hiring someone to beat me. No difference in essense. The only difference, which may or may not be essential, is that, during my torture, I am gazing upon your beautiful employees.
and this:
May 7, 1997
Thought, truly beheld, is just anal erotica. Thought is a giant dildo in the dark, working its way into the ass of its beloved, its complex pet. The pet cries out in delight and/or anxiety. The cry varies until it is speech, until it is light thrown on to penetration. Speech brings thought — a giant dildo in our mind-ass-hole — to light. It lets the dildo know we’re still interested, or at least awake.
are but the slightest reasons why you must read.this.book.now!
now i ask you, would you like that biggie sized?
can the amish fly? no, seriously…are they allowed to? doesn’t that violate some strict amish code against technology and you know…logic?
wtf does an amish person need a passport for? i mean sure, they can take their horse & buggy across the border to canadia or something — because i seriously doubt there would ever be amish in mexico — but can they get on an airplane? i mean…how in the hell do they reconcile that? does the Way O’ Teh Amish really stipulate amish ladies can never cut their hair and dudes can’t shave their nasty beards off, but they can fly? because that’s totally ok?
and if so, what the hell? really, where are the amish allowed to even go?
but more importantly, why do the amish get to fly out of this damn country and i’m stuck here merely facilitating their possibly non-sanctioned travel? why, i ask you, WHY?!
or you know, why in god’s name do i have to freaking look this shit up?
seriously, dudes.
in fact, the following are all things that are fucked up:
ick.
