Wishful Thinking
Lisa and my mom have been pressuring me to know what I want for my birthday. I don’t know what I need, but if you read this whole post you can find out what I want.
Lisa and my mom have been pressuring me to know what I want for my birthday. I don’t know what I need, but if you read this whole post you can find out what I want.
Ha ha ha ha ha… ha… ha ha… sigh.
I dropped off my bike at Hiawatha Cyclery on Friday. It’s funny how being away from it for a couple of weeks gave me a fresh perspective.
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Anyone want to help me form a band called “the Diocemberists”?
Honestly, enough with the fucking steroids already. What does it matter if a professional athlete has been juicing it? It’s a victimless crime. The bigger crime is that there are professional athletes.
Did I mention my desire to cancel the organized sports at the University? FUCK THOSE ASSHOLES. Get a job, fuckers. Also, hold some classes in that fucking Alumni fucking center if it is so fucking great already. Jesus fucking Christ.
Really, I just want to get HUGE and ripped.
I have to stop buying those terrible “1 million pieces of clip art for $1″ discs in the bargain bins at the store. That is, unless I start making sweet ass animations like this: 787 Cliparts.
(It’s not only SFW, if you work in a marketing or design department, you can pretend that you are working!)
Me: I think that it is time for the campus club [ed: the bar one floor down from Zach’s office]
Zach: are we going?
Me: I’ll go if you go
Zach: ok I might dock a boat then
Zach: before
Me: you mean scuttle a ship in the pearly white ocean?
Zach: drop the coast guard rescue diver into the white seas
Me: Eew. That implies that you will be reeling the diver back into the rescue helicopter.
Zach: with guest.
The Best Show Ever is Out On DVD!
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