So I apologize for the abscence of this blog lately, but I lack a computer and spare time recently due a recent internship. Still, two weeks without bloggity goodness is horrible for you poor homers out there who hang on my every word, so here you go.
We step into my mind for several random thoughts and stories from the last couple weeks. Some are sports related, but several are nowhere close:
-I have found that corn chips and peanut butter are not a bad combo. Especially crunchy pb.
-Not having a computer makes me feel so strange. I have made due with the iPhone but I have used my computer as my tv, DVD player and main communication device for almost five years. It was the first thing I turned on in he morning and the last I turned odd. Really a minor miracle it lasted for almost five years.
-The only thing that ever get me misty-eyed are sports movies. When G-Baby dies at the end of "Hardball" I came as close to crying as I have in 3 1/2 years, only time that was in the ballpark was when my grandmother passed away. I am kinda fucked up.
-Fuck Sidney Crosby and all of Canada.
-I have accepted a few techno songs as all right, but after five hours of it during and indoor pool party (sans pool? at the Hard Rock) I have jumped squarely back on he fuck techno bandwagon.
-Is there a list of 200 songs every dj in the world can pick from or do people who dj just all have the exact same taste in music? (DJ Stringer Bell excluded, of course).
-Trevor Edy is Words With Friends as the Chicago Cubs are to baseball. He started out hot wayback against me, now he is inventing horrible ways to lose. It is like 8 games in a row now, almost all coming down to the last word. Suck it, Ice cream boy.
-I now work with a kid whose nickname is worse than mine. I am Stretch, he is Boner Face.
-On Sundays at work we started Circut Sundays, a night for alternative types (or Thuper thundays according to many of the gays). Let me tell you it was surreal.
-In the midst of this modern gemmorah I learned exactly what it feels like to be the hottest girl in the bar. I was hit on constantly by both gays and girls, so much to the point that I had to stay moving to avoid akward convos. It did give me some good insight what to do and not to do when hitting on girls. Almost made me feel sorry for girls and make me change my ways, but then the gays would have won and I can't have that.
-I think the best pickup line was from the guy who said I looked like superman, but then told me I looked like the superman from Smallville. The best move was the girl who kept sneaking up behind me and trapping me with her Cupid arrow. She wasalso wearing a see-thru pink top with tassles. That didn't hurt.
Still, imagine that confliction in your brain, hot girls dancing around basically naked just feet from two dudes playing tummysticks. Both aroused and shocked at the same time. I think my soul may have split into two at that exact moment.
-everyone in San Diego is a complete skeezball. I habe had at least three bosses try to impress me by discussing how the wanted to cheat on their girlfriends. Check out this quote from my diuchy redheaded boss:
"my girlfriends hot friend hooked up with some random dude last night. She couldn't even remember his name but he told me he hit it rawdog. I'm so jealous. I wanted to do it. Oh, she's a kindergarten teacher."
You stay classy, San Diego.
-I haven't been able to download my random 10 songs a week so I have been listening to alotta of old music. For some reason I have an inproportionate number of Rick Ross songs on my phone, not that I rally mind, but I justlaugh at how over the top and rediculous his lyrics are, but it turns out he is actually telling the truth in one.
"Daddy never knew that chocolate milk make you fart real bad."
So true. Maybe he really does traffic billions of dollars of yayo.
