First a hot dog, then a hydrangea. Why always the same corner?
Leave a comment...
Fortunately, Paul is around. Unfortunately, he wants “Bacardi Razz” for orange sodie floats. It’s a good thing that the liquor store up here is open until 10. Glorious.
Oh yeah, my final either went awesomely, or I totally screwed it up because I didn’t actually understand it at all. HOORAY! FUCK!
Read 3 comments...
I have been unable to read the archives of the blog of my friend Kassie, because firefox doesn’t render those pages as html. I gave her some advice to fix it, but, uh, I didn’t want to write pages and pages of explanation because… uh… well, that’s complicated, but regular readers can probably put that all together. However, she linked to me, so I guess she doesn’t think that I’m too much of an asshole. As such, I’ll present the longer explanation, and it will be a nice lesson for even some of my web-savvy friends (who have been instructed to punch me in the nuts for doing this).
Read 765 more words and 5 comments...
My mom works with this doctor who is biking across the US.
Leave a comment...
What am I doing this weekend? Everyone wants to know! (No one wants to know, booooooo)
Read 121 more words and see one more image...
Stan came upstairs to hand me the phone today while I was still firmly entrenched in my beauty sleep.
Qwest: Hello, this is Qwest, it looks to us like your DSL is working.
Me: Is it raining?
Me: Is it raining… outside?
Qw: I don’t know.
Me: I don’t think that it is. Nope, it’s not.
Me: If it isn’t raining, there won’t be a problem.
Qw: Oh. What?
Do these people just pull up any old ticket and dive in without looking at the history… at all?
Does this ever happen?
Qw: I see that service has been disconnected, so I turned it back on, and I’m sorry for any inconvenience
Me: What? No, I had called to have it disconnected in the first place.
Qw: I’m sorry, sir, is there anything that we can do to regain your business?
Me: Uh, you still have my business. It’s my great uncle who’s the dead guy.
Qw: Uhhh… I’m sorry about that.
Me: His house burned to the ground. O! Uncle Jimmy! O!
Qw: Oh. Uh.
Me: I hate you, Qwest, I really do.
This is why I don’t normally post quite so early in the morning. It just ends up being weird.
Read 2 comments...
At some point today it seemed like a good idea to walk home from school. According to google pedometer, that is 3.89 miles, so contrary to what some people might say, I’m not sane and normal at all. The only way that more liquid could have gotten into my shirt is if I were to dive into Noah’s wading pool while wearing it, which actually would not have been a bad idea. Instead I turned today into another two-shower day and then took the nap that had been calling me since three AM.
I was hoping to take Noah up to the park for swimming, but he has a big boo boo on his shin, so he shouldn’t swim in the communal pool. We’ll jump around in the backyard pool and maybe fire up the slip and slide. Anyone and everyone is welcome to come and remember why summer is awesome.
Since “anyone and everyone” is mostly people who will be reading this from other time zones or continents, I feel reasonably confident that those people will not be getting me terribly drunk tonight, the night before my final — although waking up after blacking out in a kiddie pool is a great story to close out my twenties — especially if it was some stranger’s kiddie pool.
“Where are my pants?”
Leave a comment...
I forgot to mention that I had a gigantic and delicious muffin at the Hard Times Cafe after yon Brendan Benson show. I was reasonably drunk, so I was getting delicious crumbs all over myself. It was the awesome. What I can’t wrap my mind around is why the girl at the next table took my picture with her camera phone when she thought that I was not paying any attention. Did she think that I was cute? Was she amused because I was talking loudly about how colored hair, tattoos, and piercings didn’t mean anything anymore? Did she just want a picture of that asshole drunk guy talking shit way too loud in a place he didn’t belong because it was open and he was crazy hungry. Why would a person have a camera phone in the Hard Times anyway?
Who was the wiry guy with the dreads and the blood on his hand who came and sat next to her and her friend? Why did he have blood on his hand? Did he think I was cute? Did he ask about me?
Really, I just want to see that picture. Maybe they were taking a picture of Stan, anyway.
I’m on the last problem of this last homework. My brain is starting to crack. I think that I will skip the discussion section and work and just go home and take a nap.
Read one comment...