So you know how sometimes when you’re driving along on the interstate, the median between the roadways will be all forested and crap?
That’d be a good place to hide a body.
I mean, think about it. No one ever walks that area. Sure, there’s the occasional chain-gang or something picking up trash. But a foul smell would be attributed to road kill; not that bastard upstairs neighbor who brought home a rooster.
I’m just sayin’. So maybe don’t piss me off.
Happy Thanksgiving, my peeps!!!
Happy now? And yes, I’m aware that I need a manicure.
As for the DRW. I think you know this one already…take one bottle of wine…add straw…drink.
Love you! Mean it!
Soooo…uh…my fridge smells. Like really badly. I’m not sure what it is, but I AM fairly sure I’m not going to do anything about it.
At least not now. And probably not tomorrow because I’ll probably be hungover. And probably not Sunday because I have plans. And then the work week starts all over again and I can think of at least three dozen things I’d rather do after work than clean a fridge.
Happy Friday, Fuckers.
Go read THIS ARTICLE and come back.
Back? Good. Let’s get started.
WTF is wrong with “kids these days”? I mean, seriously, WHO THE FUCK THOUGHT UP AN ALCOHOL ENEMA IN THE FIRST PLACE? And who is the stupid fucker who first gave it a shot? I can think of nothing dumber and more humiliating than having a TUBE shoved up my asshole by some drunk “friend” and THEN having booze poured down said tube and into said asshole. Also, leaving aside the obvious ridiculous stupidity of this stunt – WOULDN’T THERE BE EXCESS FLUID? That would then have to DRAIN somewhere? I mean, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that cavity isn’t designed to hold large quantities of liquid. SO, not only would you be colossally stupid, but you’d also be dripping a delightful cocktail of booze and shit out of your ass.
WHERE DO I SIGN UP? *defeated sigh*
I often see people on the street and think, “HEY! THAT’S MY FRIEND!”
And then I look more closely and realize that same person is heinously ugly. And thus, entirely NOT the person who I thought they were.
This in turn makes me feel as though I should apologize to my friend because apparently my subconscious thinks he or she is an ugly person. Which can’t be true since I don’t have ugly friends.
So I have this habit of doing nice things for people. This doesn’t make me awkward.
What makes me awkward is the fact that when people say “Thank you” after doing something nice for them, I generally respond with anything BUT the words “You’re welcome.”
So they’re met with something along the lines of “Mmm hmmmm” and no eye contact.
It’s been raining in NOLA for much of the past month. To the point that I think half of us here are considering self-harm and the others building an Ark.
Cut to Friday. I came home from work early…just in time to witness a particularly heinous storm. We’ve lived on this street for just over six months and I never once thought about whether it flooded during a storm.
Came out of the house and found that.
Sooooo I am apparently now the proud owner of a 1998 Nissan Pathfinder with a broken heater core, musty smell and plant life AND a 2008 Infiniti EX 35 with a drained battery and water sloshing around beneath the floorboards.
TRY TO CONTAIN YOUR ENVY.
Soooo apparently someone yesterday entered the following into the Googles: http://www.handuptheasshole
And ended up here.
Sorry ’bout that man. Whoever you are. I’m sure my diatribe on stupid Americans being loosed into the world was not exactly what you were hoping to find. Maybe next time try a Boolean search. I hear those work much better.
So I parked my car this morning in the garage after making sure that I was properly within the lines. At one point, I opened the door, saw I was a bit close so I adjusted to get squarely within the parking space. As I’m gathering my shit I notice some whore get out of her Lexus SUV that is parked a solid three inches over the line. And of course she’s also wearing a ridiculous outfit that I’m sure she and millions of tweens think is über trendy – a skirt over capri leggings and fuck me heels. Nice work outfit, honey.
So I’m thinking all of these thoughts and silently judging her while waiting for the elevator and while I’m ON the elevator and while I’m walking behind her up to the escalators…
Instead of remembering on which floor I had just parked.
Quittin’ time should be fun! Nothing’s better than wandering around a hot and humid parking garage whilst jonesing for booze on a Friday.
Hope your kick-off to the weekend is better than mine, my peeps!
I once daydreamed about THIS.
Today…a lady was invading my personal space on a fairly empty elevator. So I fake coughed on the back of her neck.
Which means that the lesson I learned is: Sometimes indulging my impulse control problem leads to desirable results.
GAME OVER, BITCHES.