Well, that was fun
Things to do today:
- Roll out of bed
- Take pictures of Yolanda’s swollen thumb so she can get out of her weight lifting thing, or whatever the heck she needed it for.
- Do three loads of laundry… in a row!
- Watch the end of Dogma and the start of Super Troopers while doing my laundry
- Go to Pracna on Main with the quasi-fam and spend way too much money on delicious food and THE WORST SERVICE EVER, FUCKERS! I mean, seriously, if you are going to spend all that damn cash for mojitos that taste like rubbing alcohol you expect them to be delivered in a timely fashion. At least my open faced meatloaf thing was awesome. Then, Lisa, Stan, Noah and I tried to crash a wedding at the Nicollet Island Pavilion (where L and S had their wedding one sweaty day in July a few years ago) but were turned away by sternly worded signs.
- Watch Resident Evil II: Apocalypse with Stan. Why exactly do the women in that movie wear teeny tiny clothes? Shouldn’t they be wearing armor when battling zombies? I sure would. Of course, if they were wearing more clothes, would the movie still be watchable? Movies based on video games are never a good idea. Netflix should just screen those out for me so I’m not tempted to drown my brain in awfulness. If I wanted to do that, I would have finished that excrable mojito at Pracnas. It was like cough syrup! Not even minty cough syrup, just a plastic cup full of foul. It was like being at a frat party, only without the paddling. I missed the paddling.
- Practice my eloquence and wit while chatting online with babes until all parties involved turn into pumpkins. Thank you science jokes! (it was only one babe)
OH, that’s YESTERDAY’s list, because it is the 4th now. Lisa promised that her friend has fireworks and booze, which are all I need to complete my Independence Day weekend. Time to lose a finger!
What’s on today’s list?
- Write an embarrassingly loopy post in my blog
- Go to bed
- Crawl out of bed
- Do another two or three loads of laundry
- Maybe cook something for the quasi-fam, like breakfast, although in more of an afternoon timeframe because the “go to bed” step happened after three am. Maybe I should take this right off of the list, because honestly, until I cram some coffee down my throat I might as well be a member of the undead — a fate which I hope to postpone until my 30th birthday, when undeadedness is inevitable.
- Drink some beer.
- Go to Lisa’s friend’s house for fireworks so said friend can tell me about her grad student friends (who would hopefully be more compatible with me than the hiphugger, flip-flops and Abercrombie crowd that seems to infest the U of M campus like trendy freshman rats). Plus, they live close to the Roseville fireworks, which had better be awesome, because for the love of all that is holy, I cannot go even one 4th without inhaling the sweet aroma of gunpowder.
- Drink a lot of water.
- Get to bed crazy early so I can get to work early for a day free of grownups! I love staff retreat days! I go hang out with the designers and we talk about boys and braid each others hair! Yay! I’m getting a makeover and Angie is gonna tell me what Mr. Dreamy said about me after the lecture! I heart you, Paul! Actually, I have stuff to do, so we’ll probably not gossip very much.
I already complained to everybody about the Saturday’s manual labor at my mom’s house, but if you are the sort of random girl (or member of law enforcement) who visits my blog after googling for me, you might not have heard about the half ton (or more) of bricks that I helped unload while my dear mother lorded over us with the shotgun and the bottle of rotgut whiskey. If you are not a random girl, but some specific girl who has been directed to read my blog, you have already heard this story, albeit without the embellishments that I added tonight because I punchy and loopy. I don’t know who else reads this on a regular basis besides Lisa, Paul, and my cousin, who probably cringes every time I swear. HELLO, FUCKERS!
John taught me some new songs that we could sing while we worked, but the lyrics were all pretty simple:
Oh lord!
Take me home!
I’m so tired!
Bein’ alone!”
After each line we’d swing our sledgehammers and bust up some more rocks. Shore was hot out there, all chained together and bustin’ up rocks. Then we made a break for it with George Clooney. John done got loved up and turned into a horney toad. I kept ‘im in a box but that one-eyed preacher done squashed ‘im and we thought ‘e was dead, but he weren’t dead ‘tall, just back on the gang.
Maybe that was something else. I’m kind of tired. Anyway, we unloaded bricks, then deadlifted rotten railroad ties into the back of the Home Depot truck (which is like chest-high, because Home Depot HATES PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO PUT THINGS IN THEIR TRUCKS). I won’t say what we did with the railroad ties because those random law enforcement officers might be reading this and not only find out where we dumped them (next to the railroad tracks in some woods) but also where the bodies are (under the railroad ties) — or at least the inedible parts, which include the liver. GROSS.
Once again, there are no bodies.
There may not have been bodies THIS TIME…
I was so proud of myself for sending back that horrible imitation of a mojito until I looked at the tab today and realized the FUCKERS STILL CHARGED ME FOR IT. I can’t believe we spent $104 last night and didn’t all get fantastic food, drinks and service. I also can’t believe we spent that much money going out last night - period. Now we’re super poor again. Oh well, whaddyagonnado?
Thanks for the shout-out da pooper. You FUCKING rock GOD DAMMIT! You COCK SUCKING, SHIT FACED, MOTHER FUCKING ASSHAT! (does he read the comments too?)
I thought I told you to save the liver(s) to give to Kara’s dog today. Damn it! I promised her something interesting to grill that would go with the fava beans and chianti that they’re serving. Maybe I can stop by Applebee’s and see if they have a fresh severed digit or two for me. . .
heh. you WERE loopy. but enough about the law enforcement. I think they get it now… and most random girls do, too. (I’m imagining a horse, already very inanimate, being bludgeoned…)
seems like profanity is the flavor of the moment. Fuck.
later, and for pete’s sake TRY not to blow your fingers off, whether it’s your family destiny or not…
P
Wow, three comments, and more profanity than I could ever hope for - I’m getting all weepy.