...Don't talk back. I guess technically you can't. Muwahahaha. I have you right where I want you. Forget that you can leave at any time. That little red X in the right hand corner of the screen is USELESS to you. Forgive me. It's the coffee. It's Friday and I've drank more than my normal ration. Wait! Where are you going? NO! Take your hand off that mouse. Hmmm. I mean, go ahead. You don't want to read what I have written anyway. You wouldn't be interested. WHY are you still reading?! Leave! I don't want you here.
Still here? Ha ha! That's because I have a degree in "Reverse Psychology." Ok, so that was a lie. But I should. It would go right up there next to my degree in "Bullshit."
March Search Terms: Thank you Foo for turning me on to this. 1. my mom used to save beef fat 2. big buckin chicken ringer 3. stinkweed nickname dad 4. awfully big teeth ta have 5. s-shaped poop 6. what is a dumpster guy called? 7. stupid cupid beefs up 8. beef gay bear older
2 Minutes Of Random Thoughts: Start. I wish they could make a bottomless coffee cup. But then it would take an awfully long time for the coffee to reach your mouth. And if they could make a cup bottomless, what would stop them from making something that was person-sized? Although bottomless landfills would be nice. Eventually some sicko would go and make a bottomless cemetery or prison though. People would be outraged. Religions would rebel. The government would make bills against it. But of course they'd use it overseas in warfare. The Black Market would suddenly be filled with illegal "Make Your Own Bottomless Pit At Home" manuscripts. The world would end. And it would all be due to one bottomless coffee cup... Wow, this is a lovely Friday conversation. La la la. Tink is deranged. End
Daily Hoop Conversation: Tink: I love you. Hoop: I love you the most. Tink: I love you more. Hoop: You can't love me more than "the most." Tink: Yes I can. Hoop: How? Tink: Say you were counting sheep. Even though the most sheep you see is ten, it's POSSIBLE that there can be more. Hoop: Yeah well, I still love you the most. Tink: *Sigh* You're impossible. Hoop: I liked that whole counting sheep scenario though. Very nice. Tink: Yeah, what the hell was up with that? Counting sheep... I must be tired.
Daily Hoop Conversation 2: Tink: Don't forget, we have an appointment with that agent tomorrow to look at houses. Hoop: Yeah, I know. Tink: What's wrong? You don't seem that excited. Hoop: I am. It's just... We're not going to have to buy her lunch or anything are we?
Schoolhouse Talk: Classmate: I got engaged over Spring Break. Tink: Really? That's amazing! Classmate: We'd never even discussed it before. Tink: So, is he moving in? Are you guys going to start looking for a place. Because I know of this- Classmate: -You know, I don't really WANT to live together. Tink: Oh. ... Tink: So have you guys set a date? Classmate: Yeah, we're thinking two years. It's going to be a long engagement because I'm leaving to go to an out of state college. Tink: He's not going to move with you? Classmate: No. I know he's the one and all. I fell in love with him at first sight. But it's college. I want to be open to the college experience. Tink: Wow. Well, good luck. Classmate: It wouldn't be so bad if he'd just put out. Tink: *Cough* Excuse me? Classmate: He's a good Christian boy. He doesn't believe in sex before marriage. We've been together for eleven months and haven't left second base. Tink: And you're going to prolong that TWO years? Classmate: He's lasted twenty-eight. What's two more? Tink: ...Well I'm sure you two will be very happy together.
I'm sorry guys, this has turned into another Pussy and Make-Up post. For those of you just joining us, that's a post that doesn't involve Hoop. *Gasp*
There are two things a woman should never own: a scale and a full length mirror. I used to shop at a grocery store with a huge scale at the exit. Every visit I would weigh myself and every time I got done I would feel horrible, always berating myself for buying those ice cream bars or cookies. But no matter how much I cut out of my diet, I always fluctuated between the same eight pounds. So I stopped going to that grocery store. What sick fuck puts a scale at the end of a GROCERY store anyway? Isn't that kind of.. I don't know, counterproductive?!
Last night I went to Target for T-Shirts. It never stops at T-Shirts though. Soon enough I was trying on dress pants and skirts too. That's where the full length mirror comes into play. There have been numerous mornings where I've pined for a full length mirror. Anything to avoid having to stand on the toilet and throw a leg into the sink to see if my shoes match my pants. But last night as I stood in front of that mirror all I wanted to do was cry... Or throw a serious temper tantrum which involved accidentally decking the perfect bodied eighteen year old in the stall next to me.
I haven't seen myself in a full length mirror for four and a half years. I knew my desk job had softened my tummy a little. I knew my jeans were fitting a bit snug in the butt. But I never imagined the puckers and dimples that could form on ones body simply from going up a size or two. I stood staring at my reflection from all the most disturbing angles, smushing and sliding my body back to the way it used to be. I found myself thinking, "If I could take a knife and just slice off this chunk of fat right here, I'd have great legs again."
It disturbs me, and not because of what I saw in that mirror last night. What really disturbs me is what that image made me THINK. Jesus, I can start exercising and eating right if that's what's necessary. But no woman should ever feel so demoralized that she considers cutting herself away with a knife like a piece of meat. That's not normal! It's not healthy. I stepped out of that dressing room with new eyes. I stared at every woman that passed me and wondered, "Does she feel this way too?" It was like someone sucker punched me. I had two choices. I could leave, or I could finish shopping.
So you know what I did? I bought lingerie.
Standing in the middle of the store I came to this realization. This is MY body damn it. I HAVE to love it. It's held babies on its hips and friends in its arms. It's been kissed and caressed, beaten up and broken down. It's pushed lawn mowers, furniture, swings and cars. Come sickness and sadness, it's always come through. It was just the right size for snuggling around my little brothers. It's still the right size for being snuggled around by Hoop. It's cried, laughed, yelled, hoped and loved. It's made dinners for twelve and drawn pictures by candlelight. It's curved, dimpled, wrinkled and rounded. It's utilitarian. It's a work of art.
I tried the lingerie on when I got home, doing circles in front of the bathroom mirror. I put it away before Hoop came back from school. He'll get to enjoy it too, I can assure you. But I didn't buy it for him... I bought it for ME.
On A Lighter Note...
Hollywood Smut: I usually stay off the celebrity topics because frankly, I don't really care. But this is just too crazy to ignore. A LIFESIZE statue of Britney Spears giving birth?! "Oh my God, sign me up. I want one right in the middle of my trailer!" Surely the artist understands that she CHOSE to have a C-Section right?
Which leads me to another disturbing conversation. Why did she choose to have a C-Section? Why did no one stop her from having unnecessary major surgery? Was she scared she might stretch her Hooha out and then dear sweet adulterer Kevin wouldn't want her? Because we all know his turnoffs include being poor, not being famous, and pregnant women.
Laugh Lines Are The Best Lines: A woman and her boyfriend are out for New Years having a few drinks. While they're sitting there having a good time together she starts talking about this really great new drink. The more she talks about it the more excited she gets, and starts trying to talk her boyfriend into having one.
After a while he gives in and lets her order the drink for him. The bartender brings the drink and puts the following on the bar -- a salt shaker, a shot of Baileys and a shot of lime juice. The boyfriend looks at the items quizzically and the woman explains. "First you put a bit of the salt on your tongue, next you drink the shot of Baileys and hold it in your mouth, and finally you drink the lime juice."
So, the boyfriend, trying to go along and please her, goes for it. He puts the salt on his tongue -- salty but OK. He drinks the shot of Baileys- smooth, rich, cool, very pleasant. He thinks - this is OK. Finally he picks up the lime juice and drinks it. In one second the sharp lime taste hits. At two seconds the Baileys curdles. At three seconds the salty curdled bitter taste hits.
This triggers his gag reflex. But being manly, and not wanting to disappoint his girlfriend, he swallows the now nasty drink. When he finally chokes it down he turns to his girlfriend. She smiles widely at him and says, "So, how did you like it? It's called... 'Blow Job Revenge.'"
Hump Day. If they're going to make me stand on this hill, they should have left me with a sled.
5 Minutes Of Random Thoughts: Start. Are Oranges named after their color? Or is orange named after the fruit? And if that were the case wouldn't Bananas be called "Yellow" and Peas called "Green?" Then we'd have no color "Pea Green." It would just be "Green Green." But then "Lime Green" would have to be changed to "Green Green" and no one would be able to tell the difference between "Green Green" and "Green Green." Unless they started giving them numbers. People are going to be like that one day. No one's going to have an actual name. "Good morning 6357248! How's little 948210941?" We'll be barcoded and weeded out for defects like cattle. I'm glad I won't be alive to see it. Unless there's reincarnation. In which case I'm screwed. Although coming back as a animal might be nice. Hoop wants to come back as an Eagle because he's a fucking Barbarian who thinks having talons, a razor sharp beak, and having to hunt for food would be "neat." He doesn't even know how to cook a meal, let alone catch one. I hope he comes back as a bunny rabbit. End.
Daily Hoop Conversation: Real Estate Agent: How much are you looking to spend? Tink: In the ballpark of- Hoop: 3.6 Million dollars. Tink: *Blink*
Daily Hoop Conversation 2: Hoop: If you were a Zombie, I wouldn't kill you. Tink: No? Hoop: No, I'd keep you chained up in the garage. Tink: That's funny, because I'd totally kill you. Hoop: Well, I think that proves that I love you more. Tink: Or that you're a closet Necrophiliac.
When I sat down this morning there was a little blank spot in my head where today's post was supposed to be. "Maybe I'll just post a Meme?" I thought. After all, its OK to be a little self absorbed on a blog. That's kind of the gist of blogs isn't it? Everyone writes about themselves and hopes that someone will answer or be inspired or learn from their experiences. Is that what "Meme" means? I realized I didn't know. I don't even know how to pronounce the word, let alone define it. So I turned to the all knowing Google. All hail Google.
Say What? "Meme" is pronounced "Meem," as in rhymes with "Dream."
What is it? According to Whatis?com , "A meme is an idea that is passed on from one human generation to another. It's the cultural equivalent of a gene, the basic element of biological inheritance. The term was coined in 1976 by Richard Dawkins in his book The Selfish Gene."
According to this guy with the hellacious mullet, "In Blogspeak, a meme is an idea that is shared and passed from blog to blog, like a question posted in one blog and answered in many other blogs." Ok, ok. So that was just shameless plugging for the sake of the mullet. But seriously folks. Wouldn't you really love to run at him like Edward Scissorhands? It's 2006 dude, the party's over.
...You think I'm mean don't you? I never claimed to be nice. If you want nice go here. I can't compete with a six year old blogger.
Original Meme: Answer the first set of questions with words that start with the first letter of your first name. The second set with your middle name. The third set with your last name. The fourth set with the city you were born in. The fifth set with the name of your first pet.
I've never seen... 1. Comets 2. Colorado 3. Cooties 4. Congress
I will never... 1. Eat raw meat 2. Enjoy math 3. Erase what I can write over 4. Email a chainletter
I love the feel of... 1. Corduroy 2. Caterpillar fuzz 3. Cold stones 4. Cuddling
I don't understand... 1. Soap Operas 2. Stilts 3. Space 4. Salad Forks
I wish I could be... 1. Taller 2. Ten Million dollars richer 3. Telepathic 4. Toned
More Hoop Conversations and Doses of Tink tomorrow.
$85.00 in gas. $50.00 in junk food. 14 hours in the car. House hunting with Hoop? Priceless. Oh wait... This isn't a Mastercard commercial. "Priceless" is what came AFTER "Stressful." Here are the highlights of the weekend:
1. Reverted back to middle school by yelling,"Ass-monkey, Ass-bastard, Tard-o, Turd-face, and Fuckwad" at the cars around me. 2. Felt like an idiot when none of them yelled back, "I know you are but what am I?" 3. Saw a white 1970 Gremlin with the words "Electric Car" painted on it. 4. Thought about stopping to go cow tipping. 5. Referred to a house as "the color of poop" seconds before I realized the owner could hear us. 6. Talked to a real estate agent who kept calling me the wrong name, even though it was written right in front of her. 7. Looked at the house of a woman on an oxygen tank who kept hinting that she needed help moving. 8. When asked why she was moving got the answer, "Because all us old people in the neighborhood are finally dying!" 9. Was given the elaborate details of how to shoot a squirrel between the ears. 10. Sang the same Aerosmith song twelve times. 11. Had my butt go numb. 12. Was told I didn't look old enough to own a house. 13. Ate beef jerky, coffee, sweet tea, a rice crispy treat and Combos for lunch. 14. Counted forty-eight "Ten Commandment" signs on the side of the road and in people's yards. 15. Cringed as Hoop said, "Jesus Christ this is a big closet!" in front of one of those people. 16. Turned down looking at a house because it faced a school. 17. Turned down looking at a house because it faced a church. 18. Turned down looking at a house because it was a church. 19. Had a conversation with Hoop for over an hour on the uses of magnets. 20. Didn't find a single house we liked.
Daily Hoop Conversation: Tink: I wouldn't want to be a princess. All they do is sit around and try to look pretty. Hoop: Yeah, but they have SERVANTS. Tink: I'd rather be like Joan of Arc. Hoop: I'd rather be a princess. Tink: You'd rather be a princess? Hoop: Sure. *Shrug* As long as there's video games. Tink: You wouldn't want to be a knight? Hoop: Hell no. Knights get killed. Tink: Fair enough. I'll be a knight and you can be a princess. Hoop: You know, I wouldn't mind being a knight, as long as I could be the knight manager.
Daily Hoop Conversation 2: Hoop: I wish I was a giant... Tink: *Chokes on drink* Hoop: ...or had a giant. Tink: Oh-kay. Hoop: We'd open up a tree moving business together. If someone wanted a tree then all the giant would have to do is stick his finger in the ground and then plop one in. Tink: So, what would he need you for?
Daily Hoop Conversation 3: Tink: What was that in the road? Hoop: A can of Fix-A-Flat. ... Hoop: If you ran over it and it popped your tire, would that be considered ironic?
Word verification malfunctions? Kind of annoying. Running "Smenita" through Google? Worth the chuckle. What you get is a slew of people bitching about how Blogger dropped the ball yesterday. It reminds me a little of the Nipplegate Scandal during Super Bowl XXXVIII. The people who thought it was kind of funny are looking at the people who are pissed off like, "Lighten the fuck up and have a Daiquiri."
So of course there's a Smenita Blog now. Like you didn't know that was coming. It even has Smenita poems. I'm thinking this guy is an ambulance chaser in real life. After scrolling through the other blogs that Google pulled, I've chosen five of my favorite "Smenita" comments for your enjoyment:
1. Sounds rather exotic don't ya think? 2. Smenita can eat it. 3. I have decided when things go wrong, instead of saying SHIT I'm gonna break out with Smenita! 4. ...and instead of Green Kryptonite his weakness would be Smenita. 5. Have a Smenita day!
Hoop Is Grounded: Hoop and I went to a cookout last night at our next door neighbors' house. There were hellion kids, gripes about work, redneck jokes, beer drinking, drunk grilling, burnt chicken that was raw in the middle and a strange medley of deserts. Just the kind of misadventure that I like. It would have gone on splendidly too, had Hoop not gotten sloshed off his ass. Hoop on beer or liquor is an entertaining site. Hoop on B2E is a DISASTER. It must be the added caffeine that makes him talk like an ADD kid on crack. Only he's drunk, so half the words that are pouring out of his mouth don't even make any sense. I kept yelling at him to "Shut up already!" and he kept repeating the same strings of babble over and over again. It's nights like those that I pray for the morning... And sobriety.
Daily Hoop Conversation: Hoop: Do you guys want some Flan for dessert? Neighbor: What's Flan? Tink: I think it's Spanish. It's custard and caramelized sugar. Hoop: It's what RICH people eat... Tink just has the recipe.
Daily Hoop Conversation 2: Tink: Hoop, we have to go soon. Hoop: Why? Tink: We have to go pick up some paper before the store closes. Hoop: We need sour cream too. Tink: Paper and sour cream, got it. Neighbor: Paper and sour cream?! That's not going to taste very good.
Little Hands: As I was getting out of my car at Walmart, the moonlight glinted off the van next to me in such a way as to illuminate the tiny smudges on its windows. No not smudges, handprints. I stood there for a moment rocking from side to side trying to catch the light again. The handprints were so tiny. Finger to wrist they would have fit in my palm. We all had small hands once. It doesn't last long. I must have stared down at my own hands, because suddenly I felt panicky. How long have my hands been this size? Oh my God, I have adult hands! When did that happen?
It feels like my childhood whipped by so quickly. I remember so much, and yet I hardly remember growing up at all. There have been numerous times in my life where I suddenly felt RESPONSIBLE. There have been instances where I realized that the course of my life entirely depended on what I did in that moment. No one was going to save me. No one was going to fix me if I fucked up. But never in my life had I felt so ADULT as I did standing next to that van last night. I stared at those handprints and finally understood what it means to have big hands. I understood why it's so important that we grow up... Big hands are the only thing that help little hands along.
5 Minutes Of Random Thoughts: Start. When people tell you, "You know what they say..." Who the hell are THEY? Is there a designated panel of people who sit around and think of things us ordinary Joes and Janes can quote so that we too can look smart? How do we know the information is correct? "The odds of being killed by falling out of bed are one in two million." Did THEY actually test that? Who the hell would sign up for a test that may or may not kill them?! "We're going to have forty of you fall out of this bed 50,000 times. But don't worry, only one of you is going to die." I don't fucking think so. "Researchers indicate that plants grow healthier when they are stroked." Did they put out an ad for candidates? "Wanted: People who are good with their hands and don't mind repetitive up and down movements." Nice. How about, "A marine catfish can taste with any part of its body." Did they ask it? I'm never believing another sentence that begins with, "They say..." again. End.
Daily Hoop Conversation: Hoop: Look what I got in the mail today. It says I could make over 80 grand! Tink: That's a scam. Hoop: No it's not. And it only costs $40 to enroll. Tink: It's a scam. Hoop: I guess that means I don't have to share all the money I'll be making with you then? Tink: I'm cool with that. Hoop: *Blink* You're not going to be jealous when I'm rolling around in a tub full of money? Tink: Nope. Hoop: We'll see. ... Tink: If you only make one dollar are you still going to roll in it?
No Shame: As Hoop and I were waiting for our supreme Mudslides at dinner last night, we decided to pass the time by comparing belly flab. Hoop slumped over, maximizing the amount of fat and skin he could grab with one hand. I dug in, smushing the pooch of my stomach into a grossly puckered mouth. Of course the waitress decided to arrive at that moment. She stopped two feet from the table and stared. "Um, are you guys sure you still want these?" We stared back with a look that could only mean, "DUH." She slid the drinks across the table. "It's never a good sign when people are comparing their fat before they've even eaten."
Things That Make You Go, "WTF?" 1. I'm renaming the dog "Paneadur" for "Panty Eater." 2. I had a dream you turned into Jack Black and sang me Bohemian Rhapsody while showing me slides of the life of a grape. 3. If you can't talk about poop with your Mom, who can you talk about it with? 4. "Birthday Cake" flavored ice cream? They're RUINING the whole concept!
A SITE For Each Eye: Dope’alicious: A drug ring was busted making pot laced candies with names like, "Toka-Cola, Pot Tarts, Puff-A-Mint Pattie, Stoney Ranchers, Munchy Way, and Buddahfinger."
How Profane: A site that gives you a worldly view of profanity with great trivia like, "The Cantonese word for 'flower bridge'('fa kyu') sounds vaguely similar to 'fuck you'." AND... "Even names in one language may appear as vulgar words in another linguistic community, which causes many immigrants to change their names (common Vietnamese personal names include Phuc and Bich).”
Daily Hoop Conversation: (While laying on the bed) Hoop: I’m so lazy. Tink: Me too. Hoop: You know what would be great? Tink: What? Hoop: If I could CARRY myself to the living room. Tink: I’m having trouble picturing that. Hoop: It’s not so difficult to imagine. Tink: Like putting your arms underneath your legs and pulling up? Hoop: Exactly. Tink: That would be nice, IF it were possible. Hoop: But then imagine how tired your arms would get.
Daily Hoop Conversation 2: Tink: If Jazzi (the dog) could talk, she’d sound like one of those old smokers with the throat boxes. Hoop: No, she’d have a sexy voice. Like one of those phone sex operators that end up being overweight and ugly. Tink: *In a sexy voice* Hey big boy. Where’s the kibble? ... Hoop: Is it wrong that you just turned me on?
At The Water Cooler: Tink: Our IT person just told me we’re having problems because “the internet is bottlenecking.” Coworker: Really? Tink: Yeah, that’s fucking impossible. That would be like damming the ocean. Coworker: It doesn’t matter what page you turn the book to. It’s how many fingers you have to turn the pages with. Tink: *Blink* Yeah… Something like that.
Ontday aysay away ingthay: The moment I stopped complaining about the internet, it started working. Upidstay computer. I do believe this Itchbay has been studying Murphy's Laws after business hours. I also think she's kind of lonely because I keep getting pop-ups for computer "enhancements." Maybe I should do something nice, like clean the rollerball lint out of her mouse? They're shutting the whole network down for repairs tonight and giving all the computers a check-up. Here's to hoping that works... If you ask me, who they really need to call is an Exorcist.
Green Puke: Isn't that what drinking too much green beer would result in? I didn't want to test the theory out Friday night. Hoop and I had a good time, despite the lack of tinted booze and midgets. Although I have to admit, if I were a midget, I would have totally taken advantage of the holiday and dressed like a Leprechaun. I might have even forgiven a little groping in spirit of the occasion.
Our plan had been to get tanked and then call a cab. It was a great idea, in theory. We got shnockered. We called a cab. Shit, we called five cabs. Most of them were stolen by other bar patrons before we could even take two steps toward them. But we kept trying. In the end they just stopped coming. After almost two hours I turned to Hoop and said, "I do believe I've sobered up enough to drive." The cops at the end of the parking lot didn't even glance our way as we drove off. THIS, my friends, is how the little man gets screwed.
Progress Report: $115.00 saved. 585 cigarettes not smoked. I still feel like the Wicked Witch from the South. Poor Hoop. Not only does he have to deal with cigarette withdrawals, but he has to put up with my mood swings too. I actually yelled at him for shaving in the guest bathroom this morning. Did I mention that he spent five hours deep cleaning the house with me on Sunday? Yeah, feel free to gather the tar and feathers.
Daily Hoop Conversation: Hoop: I'd really love to quit my job. Tink: I know hon. Hoop: Would you hire me? Tink: Hire you for what? Hoop: I don't know. I could be your sex slave or something? Tink: Pfft. You already are. Hoop: So... Will you start paying me then?
Daily Hoop Conversation: Tink: I am so sick of the dog eating my underwear! Hoop: You forgot "toilet paper and socks" too. Tink: And he claws up the doors and the window sills. Hoop: He is really destructive. He's probably more work than he's worth. *Dog starts barking* Hoop: I think he's trying to tell us something. What's that Duff? You want a what? Tink: What did he say? Hoop: He'd really like a lobotomy.
BTW: Check out this great Pig Latin conversion site. It brings me right back to fourth grade.
...don't even compare to how slow our internet is running. It would have been faster to snail mail you all today's post. This is the first time all day that my "Dashboard" hasn't timed out. I'm hoping that it holds long enough to submit. Our motherboard? She's a kinky little bitch. Hopefully she'll have worked out her kinks by tomorrow morning. Until then, I hope you all had a great weekend. I'll post updates soon!
I had a nightmare last night that Hoop was gay. I woke up in tears blubbering something about his "male lover." Our internet, and then Blogger, has been down for the last seven hours. My St. Patrick's Day isn't off to the greatest start. But I'm determined to make it better, come hell or rabid leprechauns. Tonight is the night to get tanked on green beer and spend three drunken hours searching for four leaf clovers in the neighbor's yard. Here to celebrate the occasion:
St. Patrick's Day Trivia 1. St. Patrick wasn't Irish, he was British, born to a Roman official. His birth name was "Maewyn Succat." 2. When he was 16, pirates captured him and carried him to Ireland to be a slave. 3. He didn't really banish snakes from Ireland, because Ireland never had any. Scholars now believe snakes were simply a metaphor for the "serpent" of paganism. 4. The Irish have celebrated their patron saint with a quiet religious holiday for centuries, perhaps more than 1,000 years. It took the United States to turn St. Patrick's Day into a boozy spectacle. You're not surprised are you? 5. The term "shamrock" derives from the Irish word, seamrog, which translates to "little clover." But identifying a particular plant as the shamrock is a dubious practice, botanically speaking. No one really knows what a shamrock is. 6. The Blarney Stone, the object everyone kisses for luck, is a part of a wall on Blarney Castle in Blarney, Ireland. According to legend, an old woman cast a spell on the stone after being rescued from drowning by a king. When the king kissed the stone, he was given the gift of persuasive eloquence. Therefore it is believed that anyone who kisses the stone will receive the same gift. 7. Ever wonder who thought of dying beer green? Back when it was difficult for American bar owners to get their hands on a good Irish beer, they decided that the next best way to celebrate St. Patrick's Day would be to drink beer that was dyed green. Even now, when Irish beer is as easily accessible as driving to the nearest bar, people have stuck to the tradition of drinking the dyed stuff.
"Irish Hot Potato" Drinking Game: Preparation: A ball, a group of friends, and a lot of beer. Object: Basically the game is playing catch with your friends, but with a few exceptions. When throwing to someone, you must say the name of someone else in the circle besides the person you're throwing to. For example, Jack, Bob, and Sue are playing. Jack throws to Bob and says, "Sue." That's OK. If Jack throws to Bob and says "Bob," then he has to drink once. Additional Rules: 1. If you say the same name twice in a row, you have to drink twice. 2. If you say your own name, you have to drink four times. 3. If you wait more than four seconds, you have to drink five times. 4. If you peg the ball at someone (a peg will be decided by majority vote), you have to drink six times. 5. If the ball goes astray, the last person on one knee with a finger on their nose fetches it. Everyone else has to drink seven times.
Daily Hoop Conversation: Tink: Spring Break is next week. Hoop: Oh yeah? Any big plans? Tink: I figured I'd stay toasted all week. Maybe get a tattoo, shave my head, and call myself, "Tawanda." Hoop: Sounds about right.
Daily Hoop Conversation 2: Tink: I figured out what kind of job you'd be perfect for. Hoop: What's that? Tink: Digging cheap graves. Hoop: Cheap graves? Tink: Yeah, you're already so good at digging holes. You might as well sell them off and make some profit.
My name is Tink, and I'm a Blogaholic. Unfortunately, I seem to be running a little low on coherent thought provoking topics this morning. So you're going to have to deal with whatever I dig out of my mushy head. Expect a lot of lint.
5 Minutes Of Random Thoughts: Start. You know that rhyme about the old woman who lived in a shoe? Where the hell did they find a shoe that big? Was it a giant's shoe? Were they the size of ants? Wouldn't it smell?! I wish we had taste buds in our nose. That way when I laugh so hard coffee comes out, I'd at least be able to enjoy it. But then you'd have to taste boogers. There I go with the boogers again. I don't have an inner child. I have inner children. They're like freaky little midget personalities that scream for me to say things like, "Poop" and then giggle obscenely. Poop. Hehehe. I once heard that "S" shaped poop is the healthiest. It's hard enough to get a regular system going without having to shit out letters. Do "As" and "Qs" count as double? "Hold on honey, I'm working on an 'H' in here!" Hoop would definitely be impressed. End.
Random Insults: 1. You're so old, you have memories in black and white. 2. You're so ugly, you have to sneak up on your mirror. 3. You're so fat, when you asked your Mom for rollerskates, she took you to a car dealership. 4. You're so poor, when I went to use your bathroom a rat tripped me and a cockroach took my wallet.
Random Disease I Would Mind Having: Unlike my post on Synesthesia, Cotard's Syndrome is not a disorder that I would like to have. People suffering from this syndrome think they are the walking dead. Fucking ZOMBIES. *Shudder* EDIT: Excuse me. That was uncalled for. I believe they prefer "The Living Challenged."
1. Pardon me, Mr. Obvious Man. Maybe you were under the impression that I'm blind? I am a little klutzy sometimes. You can stop announcing that it's raining. I can see it. Not to mention I heard you say it the first, second, and third time around. But so help me God, if you continue to call it "Angel's Tears" I'm going to staple your fucking foot to the floor with my Swingline. Could you also stop reiterating that in the online gaming world you're a very powerful Warlock? Like your pasty white skin and beady eyes didn't scream NERD already. You could tell me you know how to shoot fire balls out of your eyes and I still wouldn't invite you out for beers.
2. Excuse me, fabulous boyfriend with an overactive clueless gene. Sex is not over just because you've spilled the Dong Water. This is not a self-service station. Tips are not appreciated unless they're in the form of head. So here's what I'm going to do... The next time I "catch one" before you, I'm going to slide off and lie down with a satisfied smile. Then I'm going to gripe about work while lazily running my fingers up and down your body. After about fifteen minutes of this I'm going to jump up and excitedly suggest we go out for food. Sound good? Why not? Sucks doesn't it, and not in the good way. FYI, the tab has been started. If you don't pay up soon I'm sleeping with the vibrator and YOU can have the little metal box in the closet.
3. Forgive me, foreign telemarketer. Someone needs to esplain how dees uh...uh...uh... what's de word? Ah yes, procedure works. I would normally hang up on you within the first .3 seconds of realizing that you're trying to sell me something. But when I can't even understand what you're saying, it's going to take me 39 seconds and cost four nerves more just to figure out that I'm not interested. You probably think this is a good thing right? You're wrong. The .3 second hang-up is quick and effective. The 39.3 second hang-up is the equivalent of playing Hot Potato with a hand grenade. Sometimes you'll leave unscathed. Most of the time you'll get an airhorn in your ear. You've been warned.
Daily Hoop Conversation: *Points at a TV dinner in the freezer section* Hoop: That looks better than the stuff you usually make. Tink: Are you trying to tell me that frozen crap in a box will be better than the stuff I make from scratch?! Hoop: You don't make it from scratch. It comes in a box too. Tink: Hey, I add my own spices and cheeses to it!
Hoop and I had fully intended to go grocery shopping last night. Unfortunately, porking out at an all-you-can-eat buffet does little for your grocery shopping motivation. The closest we came to a supermarket was stopping at the adult one on the way home. That's right. Some people aren't satisfied enough with a shop, they have to build a whole SUPERMARKET dedicated to the stuff. I had meant for the experience to be funny, as visits to "toy" shops usually are.
I should have known something was off when the guy behind the counter looked like the Michelin Man, minus legs. As two male customers from the back turned toward us, I realized I was probably the first female in ages to enter these doors. Despite the plastic phalluses on the walls, the majority of the room was filled with rows and rows of girl-on-girl videos.
Hoop and I walked around doing the obligatory, "What's that for?" and "Look honey, a midget blowup doll!" All the while I felt the eyes of the other customers scrutinizing us. The other shops I'd ventured into, usually with girlfriends while skipping school, had been filled with people giggling as unabashed clerks walked around describing how things worked. There was no laughing in this place. The people that came here meant business.
After ten minutes of heavy silence I turned to Hoop and asked if he wanted to leave. "This place creeps me out," I whispered to him. "Seems normal enough to me," he whispered back as we headed toward the door. As we were leaving, a gentleman held the door open for us before entering. He smiled, making full eye contact. "Have a great night!" Hoop shuddered.
Hoop: We are never going back there again. Tink: Thank you! ... Tink: Wait... Why? Hoop: That guy made eye contact with us. Guy code strictly states, two guys in a porn shop do NOT acknowledge each other. Tink: Oh-kay then...
Daily Hoop Conversation: Tink: *Points to a woman at the buffet* Would you like me in a sundress like that? Hoop: Sure! We'll run out to Goodwill tomorrow and get you one just like it.
Daily Hoop Conversation 2: Tink: Do you know what we used to call lips like Angelina Jolie's? Hoop: "Dick sucking lips?" Tink: Exactly. Or "DSL" for short. Hoop: Which makes DSL internet have a whole new meaning. Tink: "Excuse me. Can I use your DSL?" Hoop: "I would like DSL over here." Tink: "I have DSL at work." Hoop: "How fast is your DSL?" Tink: The best part is, we're not really talking dirty.
Hoop and Tink One-Liners: 1. Hoop: Move your hands further apart! What are you playing, Air-Guitar or Air-Ukulele?" 2. Tink: I knew you were hiding there. I screamed to make you feel better. 3. Hoop: You're not interested in naming your daughters stripper names are you?
Vehicular Acid Trip: There was an important lesson learned this weekend... Don't transport cement cleaner in the backseat of a Mustang. Did you know that there's really nothing you can do to neutralize acid salt once it's bled into fabric? After dumping a whole box of baking soda on the spill, Hoop and I ran around town looking for something that would save his car. Four people at Walmart told us we were stupid for getting ourselves in this situation. You know you've hit the lowest of lows when WALMART personnel are questioning your intelligence.
Gorror Film: Hoop and I went and saw The Hills Have Eyes last night, a movie that makes Saw 1 and 2 look like Disney Movies. I like horror films. Unfortunately, they don't make those anymore. What they're making are "Gorror" films, graphic movies meant to shock and disgust you. Some scenes in this movie were so disturbingly realistic, I felt like my brain was hemorrhaging as I watched. I liked it better when technology didn't enable you to recreate someone blowing their own head off with alarming detail. Remember when showing a shadow or the blood splatter was enough to get the point across?
We've hit a turning point in scary movies. The good guys are no longer winning. In the past you could always count on at least one hero escaping. The bad guy was seemingly killed, even if it was to return another day, and order was restored for the moment. The current trend is just as predictable, but not nearly as satisfying. You'll think they're winning up until the last five minutes when they throw in the wrench. The good guys aren't getting out. All the fighting and struggling was in vain. Not to mention, there's probably going to be a sequel.
And of course if there is, I'll be there watching it just to see if it's better than the first. *Groan* The Walmart people were right.
Daily Hoop Conversation: (While surveying his car) Hoop: I'm going to try and vacuum out all this baking soda. Tink: Good luck. What a mess! Hoop: It looks like we've been carpooling a cocaine dealer with shaky hands.
Daily Hoop Conversation 2: (Out phone shopping) Hoop: Look babe, this one has a MP3 player and a camera! Tink: What do you need those for? Clerk: It would come in real handy at the gym. Tink: The GYM? Aha ha ha! Hoop: ... Tink: Shit. I mean, great idea!
2 Cents: The coffee dive that Hoop and I frequent is under new management. When it was first bought out they assured us, "Nothing is going to change." Yeah well, Hershey said the same damn thing. It's not just spilled milk... Every week we come in for coffee, something is drastically different. "Backstreets" used to be dark and dank, full of hand-me-down furniture, stale smoke, and bad art. The walls are yellow and mauve now. The floors have been covered over with wood paneling and decorative rugs. You can sit down without feeling like the couch might suck you in for keeps. It's awful.
When we arrived at "Backstreets" last night, Hoop made a beeline for a new video game that had been installed. I set out to try and rediscover the place. I thought, it's like an old lover you haven't seen in awhile. Of course they've changed, but you've been intimate. There are bound to be characteristics that have remained the same, right? My biggest comfort is that the ceiling hasn't changed. It's always been my favorite feature. It's just a series of cheap styrofoam tiles, like the kind you see in schools, but these have been painted and decorated into works of art by customers.
"Backstreets" used to sell the tile spaces off for $20. You could put anything you wanted on it, as long as you didn't take it out of the building. There are drawings, paintings, poems, and pictures. Some have pieces that hang off of them. One is decorated with Barbie parts and little plastic guns. One has a large Paper Mache face coming out of the center. My favorite is nothing more than circles of paint that reminds me of the fuzziness you get before leaving a dream. You could sit and stare at those tiles for hours without seeing all there is to see in them.
It's not long before the tiles are gone. I can feel it. The new owners think they're revamping the coffee house, but what they're really doing is gutting out its history. I can't say they don't have good intentions. In the jumble of new things to see last night, I did find a replica of the Leg Lamp in Christmas Story and a large collage painting with a hidden penis in the middle. Hoop was not amused when I pulled him over and tried to engage him in a game of "Where's Wanker?"
The point of this little rant is that we're losing our culture. My town used to be nothing more than a tourist stop, filled with family restaurants and eclectic shops. The Mom-N-Pop diners are closing as more and more people buy into the convenience of "Chili's" and "Longhorn." The eclectic shops are selling their buildings, unable to compete with the "Wal-Marts" and "Targets" of the world. We're becoming cookie cutter. Soon they're going to manufacture towns out of molds like Playdough... It's OK to accept change. But never forget at what cost.
Things That Make You Go, "WTF?" 1. "Whenever I get a persistent hard on while at work, I just tuck it into my waistband." 2. "Before my parents adopted me, they thought about getting a monkey." 3. "I'm not square! I have friends on the internet." 4. "I bought the boat, I just forgot to set sail." 5. "I feel like my head just exploded Strawberry jelly. When what I was really expecting was Blueberry."
A Penny For Your Thoughts: Check out the website for Peels and find out what location near you is carrying it.
Daily Hoop Conversation: (While out talking with the neighbor) Neighbor: Wow. Look at the ring around the moon! Hoop: We should get the camera. Tink: The batteries are dead. Hoop: We don't have batteries in the house? Tink: Nope. Hoop:You have batteries we could borrow. Tink: Oh my God. Everyone: ... Neighbor: So, anyway.
1. Hoop and I laid on the couch for forty-five minutes staring at a DVD intro screen because neither of us wanted to get up and look for the remote. We listening to the same three notes playing over and over and over again. Just when I thought my brain was going to turn into jelly, Hoop looked over the edge of the couch and realized the remote had been on the floor next to him the whole time.
2. While baking I sang the below song to the tune of "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred, accompanied by dance moves and spatula twirling.
"I'm too chubby for my love, too chubby for my love. Love's going to leave me."
"I'm too chubby for my shirt, too chubby for my shirt. So chubby it hurts. And I'm too chubby for these cupcakes, too chubby for these cupcakes. Vanilla and Strawberry."
"I'm a baker, you know what I mean. And I bake my little cupcakes in the oven. Yeah in the oven. In the oven, yeah. And I frost my little cupcakes on the oven."
3. Hoop spent thirty minutes frosting six cupcakes, during which time I heard him describe them as "Icing Roses."
4. Last night we drank milk that was two weeks over the expiration date just to save ourselves the five minute drive to the gas station.
5. I used tissue out of the bathroom trashcan so I wouldn't have to dig out a new roll of toilet paper from underneath the sink.
6. Hoop and I did aerobics on the floor while eating our cupcakes.
7. I haven't worn anything red, orange, or yellow in over two weeks because I really don't want to do an extra load of laundry that doesn't fit into the white or dark stacks.
Daily Hoop Conversation: (Name Calling Part 1) Hoop: What did you call me earlier today? Tink: Punkin. Hoop: I don't like that nickname. Tink: Oh? Ok. Well there's, "Sweetie, Sugar, Honey, Babe-" Hoop: -I know what you could call me. Tink: What's that? Hoop: Bad Ass.
Daily Hoop Conversation: (Name Calling Part 2) Hoop: Bitch. Tink: Asshole. Hoop: Slut. Tink: Faggot. Hoop: Faggot? Tink: We're calling each other names that are obviously untrue right? Hoop: Uh... Yeah, that's right.
You're getting sleepy: I had a dream last night that my Mom was a witch and she was trying to shoot me so that she could cook me. I got her to calm down by pointing out that she didn't know how to cook. I agreed to make her dinner for a year and we called it even.
Filing A Complaint: Excuse me Karma. I seem to have misplaced my mind while you were indulging me with your twisted sense of humor. I know I always wanted an outside view from my cube. But I imagined it would be in the form of a window, not a huge gaping hole in the ceiling. Now the weather forecast is calling for rain and I'm afraid the birds might decide to roost in the shelves.
I know I shouldn't have complained that the office was too quiet, because now I have to wear earplugs to block out the noise. But I was thinking more of a soft rock sound rather than an orchestra of saws. Maybe my order got mixed up in the mail? So I've typed up a formal complaint. The people at the front desk are telling me to deposit it here, in this box marked "Recyclables." I hope you can see to fixing it soon. I really can't work without my mind.
Daily Hoop Conversation: Hoop: Babe... Tink: Yeah? Hoop: I have something important to tell you. Tink: Oh yeah? Hoop: Promise that you'll still love me? Tink: Of course. Hoop: I'm really from the planet Zorgon. Tink: That's nice.
Daily Hoop Conversation 2: (While I'm making dinner) Hoop: Am I as big as that sausage? Tink: Why don't you whip it out and we'll compare? Hoop: No, I'd much rather take your word for it. Tink: I don't really want to have this conversation. Hoop: What conversation? Tink: Comparing sausages to shlongs. Hoop: Why, are you afraid you'll offend me? Tink: No, I'm afraid you won't eat dinner.
Random Game: Chose 5 random numbers anywhere between 1 and the number of blogs you have on your blogroll. Write down the blogs that fall on those 5 random numbers. Write a blog description for them.
1.Knot All That: You don't have to know much about knitting to fit in with "Me." But you might need a brief synopsis on who the Pirate and Vampire are and why The Cat is really an evil dog.
2.Rocketrobyn: Meet Robyn, a funny military gal. Follow her along the narrow streets of Italy as she discusses everything from traffic, love, nicotine addictions, haircuts, and McDonalds.
3.Stumbling Over Chaos: One cool cat. Chris claims she's the one blogging, but we all have our suspicions. Follow the paw prints to one of my daily hot spots.
4.The Great Elsewhere: A guys' guy. A fantastic father. A comedian. Nobody puts a spin on Valentines Day like he does. You'll never need another insight into the male mind again.
5. Thought Concoction: Screw "Dooce," this woman is one of MY blogging Goddesses. She'll make you laugh until you snort coffee out your nose.
Apologies to all who aren't on my blogroll yet. I promise I'll update soon. Until then... TAG! Muwahahaha.
Five Minutes Of Random Thoughts: Start. No one noticed my highlights today. They're probably just trying to be nice. The streaks were supposed to be blonde, but they're white. I have white hair. Who the hell PAYS to look old? Now they're really not going to card me when I buy cigarettes. Aw shit. I don't smoke! I need new vices. Harmless ones. Like shooting guns. It is strange though. Now I can smell my shampoo. Mignon said my sense of smell would come back. Was it dead before, and now all my little nose hairs are alive? Would that make them Zombie nose hairs? Is that why everything fucking stinks?! Maybe that's why I have more boogers. It's like a booger resort up there. It's like Booger World with Booger Mouse and friends. Sometimes I breathe out and they jump down like Kamikaze Boogers. Ahahaha, Kamikaze Boogers. Yeah... Nobody gets me. End.
Progress Report: $52.50 saved. 271 cigarettes not smoked. It's been eleven days since my last confession. For seventeen days I've smoked an average of one cigarette a day, clinging to my daily reward like a buoy in the ocean. Last weekend Hoop and I went 24 hours without nicotine. This weekend we went 48. There's a part of me that knows I could have kicked this already.
But the other part doesn't want to do it alone, doesn't want to leave Hoop behind. We'll get there. We're not giving up and we're not backing down. I laugh when I remember how easy I thought this was going to be though. It's like knowing how to swim and then getting stranded in the ocean. Swimming is no longer enough. You have to learn how to be patient. You have to learn how to float.
You might be a redneck if: ...your advertisement for used vehicles includes a "Wish List" for trade ins. Attached to an open phone booth at a gas station, Hoop found a handmade poster marketing all types of old 70s and 80s trucks and truck parts. The top of the ad read, "For sale, trade, OBO." It seemed normal enough, until you got down to the bottom. "Will trade for: RV, Houseboat, Fishing boat, Good Family Car, Camper, King Mattresses, Dining Room Set, Piano." Did you catch that? A PIANO. Not a banjo, guitar, or drum set. We have high-class Rednecks around here.
Hoop and I would have had enough fun picking apart the numerous typos, not to mention imagining what the hell their yard must look like with all those rusted up trucks and parts. But the "Wish List" is what made the flyer worthy enough of tearing down and taking home.
Tink: Who in their right mind would trade in good stuff for junk? Hoop: I kind of admire the guy. Tink: You admire the piano playing Redneck? Hoop: This is probably his only chance at getting what he really wants. He's laying it all out there in a last ditch effort. What's the harm in asking? ... Tink: But who does he think is going to see this list? Santa Claus?!
You might be Ghetto if: ...the rims on your car cost more than your car does. Every town has one of those notorious streets that people are scared to drive down. Ours is called King Street. It's more of a joke really. People get nervous because there are Hookers on the corner and because it's like the Lost-and-Found of stolen cars. But it's tame compared to when I lived in Toledo, Ohio. In Toledo, people would break into my borrowed Jimmy all the time. It was totally senseless considering the car had no locks, no passenger window, no stereo, and no value whatsoever. But they'd break into it all the same, cutting the seats and stealing all the napkins out of the glovebox. Woo Hoo, NAPKINS.
You can drive down King Street in the middle of the night and not hear gunshots. The worst you're going to see is an occasional fist fight or the usual barefooted children running around like strays outside dilapidated houses. Hoop thinks I'm insane because I like driving into that part of town. It humbles me. It makes me think of all the places in life that I'm not. Instead of turning a blind eye, I embrace it. We all belong there. If we'd sunk into our addictions, given up hope, lost our money, loved the wrong person, caved in to depression, were beaten down and forgotten, we could have all ended up there.
You might be lucky if... I don't get stuck in a tangent tomorrow and actually get those "Doses Of Tink" chapters to you. ;) Hope you all had a great weekend! Thanks again for your opinions and kind words.
Today only, you get TWO posts for the price of ONE! Here are the comparison pictures for the post below. They're in sketch form because evidently I have Shouldn't-Take-Ugly-Pictures-(While)-I'm-Drunk (or S.T.U.P.I.D.) syndrome. It's too much temptation to try and "fix" them, especially when I have cool programs like Digital Image Pro. Hey it's Friday, I'm allowed to be shnockered by seven.
I'm The Boss: I had a hairdresser that used to insist I was a young Alyssa Milano. "Right there. You have her mouth and eyes!" Well evidently I didn't end up with her tits. I'm no fool. I understand this was his way of making me feel good so that I would tip him well. It fucking worked too. Because let's face it, a woman's vanity needs constant stroking.
The point is, all my life I've been told I look like someone. Even when I didn't agree, it was always someone I could be flattered by. Isn't that the nature of these kind of things? No one tells you that you look like someone ugly. "Has anyone ever told you that you look like Shrek?" "You remind me of a cross between Weird Al Yankovic and Pee-wee Herman." Yeah, it just doesn't happen.
Calling Dr. Tink: As I crossed the courtyard on my way out of math, I could hear the clicking of heels gaining from behind. I turned back to see my teacher, smiling broadly as she passed me. "You look just like that Grey's Anatomy girl." I hadn't really expected to talk to anyone last night, so unfortunately she caught me with my screensaver on. I think I stuttered out some response like, "Oh? Great show. I'm totally addicted." Clever girl. I walked toward my car, assuming she'd been referring to Izzie. Izzie, gorgeous blonde with the perfect teeth and Cupid bow lips who (might I add) I look nothing like. It didn't hit me until I was halfway home.
I related the story to Hoop, who didn't quite understand my distress over the situation.
Tink: Tell me I don't look like Meredith. Hoop: Meredith is the star right? Who's that chick who's doing that guy who was screwing around on her with that girl? Tink: That's Izzie. Hoop: Well you don't look anything like her. Tink: *Frowns* So I look like Meredith? Hoop: *Squints* A little bit, yeah. Tink: Do I look like Meredith when the show first started, or how she looks now? Because she's really frumpy right now and I don't want to look like her. Although she has a naturally brooding face anyway and I tend to smile a lot. ... Hoop: Um...Whichever answer is the right answer.
I'll try to post some comparison pictures for you later.
Who do people say you look like?
Hopefully it's not any of these off of Olympic Trans, one of the craziest photo sites I've ever seen.
Have a great weekend all! Look for more "Doses of Tink" on Monday.
Last night I had a date with these four lovely ladies.
Meet Strawberry Passion, Pear Lemon, Cranberry Peach, and Blueberry Pomegranate. It's OK if you don't recognize them, they haven't debuted yet. I have a feeling they're going to be the new celebrities of the alcoholic beverage world very soon though. They're 100% fruit juice with 5% alcohol. I practically drooled on my keyboard when I got the notice for the Blueberry Pomegranate. But it was Strawberry Passion that was unanimously declared champion by Hoop and I. She's a sweet little minx that will leave you tipsy without feeling like you deserve to be.
P.S. I need a job in marketing.
Say what? There's a reason why the English language is so hard for foreigners to learn. Take "Crunk" for instance.
"Sizzle" Dictionary: To make a hissing sound. To be hot. Urban Dictionary: Sister. Suck. To smoke out.
"Fugle" Dictionary: To lead. Urban Dictionary: The act of fucking while snuggling.
P.S. I have way too much time on my hands.
Daily Hoop Conversation: Hoop: I'm not ticklish. Tink: Oh yeah? Me either. Hoop: Then why do you squirm when I put my hand here? Tink: *Laughs* Nooooo. Stop. Can't. Breathe. Hoop: Uh huh. Not ticklish huh? Tink: Go-go-gadget thigh! ... Hoop: What?!
Daily Hoop Conversation: Tink: Oh my God, there was a HUGE spider on the floor! I squished him. Hoop: I was wondering what you were screaming about. Tink: Ew, ew, ew. Hoop: Wow, he was big. *Cleans up mess* Tink: I am SO glad you aren't squeamish about these things. Hoop: Why? Tink: Because I used your shoe.
EDIT: The problems with the blog have been fixed. Evidently Blogger didn't like my form of graphic. Carry on. I'm just a dumb ass.
1. Excuse me, gentleman picking his nose in the car beside me. I know we all do it, but could you at least have the decency to do it in private? I know I should look away as you inspect the nose spawn stuck to your finger, but you're taking up half my view. You don't even have tint on your windows. Do you understand that sitting in a car does NOT make you invisible?! I can see you. Over here. That's right. Smile and wipe that nasty shit on your crusty seats.
2. Pardon me, fantastic boyfriend with ill timing. Do you hear that ticking? It's my libido winding down. It's been told for the last seven hours that it was going to get fed. I don't mean to snap at you and act like I don't care about your day, but there are parts of my body that are wasting away. Shower? Ok... Dinner? It's cooking... Homework? I understand... What's that? You want some nookie before bed? I'm sorry, I can't help you there. My pussy died four hours ago. The funeral was at nine. All four vibrators attended.
3. Forgive me, my self-destructive friend. I'm too busy to pick your emotional shrapnel from my skin today. I'm too busy to play the "Uh huh" game as you ramble on about your problems. My answers seem to be made of air anyway. You breathe them in and then blow them out. What's that you say? The world is ending? According to you, it ended last week. What now? Your alcoholic boyfriend is drunk again? You don't say. I didn't know alcohol did that! What's wrong? I'm sorry. You must deposit five more cents. You didn't hear? That's my going rate now. Five cents per complaint.
4. Excuse me, elderly woman who dialed the wrong number. No, this isn't Verizon. I'm sorry your phone service sucks. You're calling from where? Massachusetts? This is a beer distributorship in Florida. I said a BEER distributorship in FLORIDA! You know, the shit that might make even you appealing at a bar? I don't know why you called us either. No, I can't help you with your phone. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Yeah, I'm sorry. Listen, you might want to try dialing that number again. I don't know why it didn't work the first time. Yes I'm sure this isn't a joke. Have a nice day.