I’m pretty sure I want a mobile home now.
Monthly Archives: October 2009
I hate people who say things like “I love to travel.” It’s like saying “I love bread.” Of course you love bread. It’s delicious. And traveling is fun. You get to leave your regular life and go hang out somewhere else. What is not lovable about this? Nothing. Exactly. So next time someone asks you what you enjoy to do, please refrain from saying traveling. Instead say you enjoy breathing. “I enjoy breathing. But only once in a while if the funds permit.”
Marge Simpson is the original hot chick with a douche bag.
See her Playboy issue here here.
This is what dumb looks like.
I used to be one of those people. You know, the grammar nazi who would correct you if you dared use the wrong there/their/they’re. This was ironic since I was the one that required a cheat sheet when working with Naomi at Clubplanet. She wrote the above down on a Post-It and I referred to it when writing articles. I loved it and used it daily when one day, I spilled my coffee on it. It’s a sad thing to lose your coffee and your grammar education in the same day. I have never fully recovered, which you would know if you read any of this shit. I’m excited for this new post-it. Whoray for good grammar!
Want your own? Hear you go.
I loathe the advertising industry. I heart this video.
It’s been a while since we’ve seen any of Zohra’s people. No, I don’t mean midgets, I mean Punjabi people.
“After twenty years of sex-free marriage, a frigid woman has discovered that her asexual husband is really a woman, and she finally admitted that she is really a man.”
What’s up with people getting married without having sex first? That’s just wrong.
“Marco and Kalala Tergensonen, of Kuopio, Finland, had both been dressing as the opposite sex since their teenage years.
Marco, originally Marcia, 38, had always enjoyed dressing, talking, and acting like a woman.
And Kalala, originally Katu, had always enjoyed cutting his hair and dressing to look like a man.
When the couple fell in love and got married, it just made each of their little games that much more believable.
And, in twenty years, they just never got around to having sex. The subject simply never came up, since neither of them wanted to face the issue.”
I spent my childhood watcing my mom play Super Mario Brothers and Zelda on Nintendo. The game console was in my room and when I’d come home from school, I would have to ask her if it was okay to shut off the game she had paused. It usually wasn’t okay. Mom has since upgraded to better systems but I sure would love to get her the old-school Nintendo. And by that I mean I would love it if someone took on that mini research project for me and just let me know where I could buy it.
^me, my hair and Vinny.
Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time on my hair. My goal is to achieve the wavy look that is all the rage nowadays. Unfortunately I’m a retard and things take me twice as long to achieve. However, I don’t let my disability stand in the way of my effort and so I have been trying. This past week I succeeded in almost getting it to look the way I want. It took two hours of straightening my curly hair to then curl it with the result being only a slight wave that was almost nothing like the way I wanted it to look. Success.
So then I go to my mom’s house. I am in a good mood. I think she senses it because there is no other reason she would say what she said next.
Mom: What’s wrong with your hair?
I stare at her. She stares at my hair. I’m not sure what she means. I thought it looked good.
Mom: I just don’t get it. Is it curly? Is it straight? What have you done here?
I look at her and decide to let it go. It is Saturday. I’ve had a busy week not doing anything. I don’t need the negativity. I think she senses this because there is no other explanation as to why she would say what she said just one hour later.
Mom: But really, what’s wrong with your hair?
Me: Why are you such a hater?
Mom: No I’m not.
Me: You are. You don’t like anything.
Mom: I do. I like it curled but your hair is confused.
Me: Okay. I see its time for me to leave. Good bye dad. Good bye hater. Always a pleasure!
I left shortly after. As I was making my way down the stairs, the Palmolive dish soap my mom had given me opened. I was holding it between my armpit because I didn’t have enough hands and sure enough to got all over my bag, clothes and hair. It smelled nice so I considered it a leave-in Shampoo.
She won again.
I hate when people make a sarcastic comment and then follow up with “I was being sarcastic for you people that didn’t get it.” Really? Because I thought you were just being a loser. On that note, if any of you ever say this to me, please consider yourself on my “I wish your mom had an abortion” list. I am not being sarcastic for those of you who didn’t get it.