"You're telling me he died in a botched circumcision?"
Whoa, Nelly!
The first time I heard that phrase I was a kid, and I thought it was the stupidest thing I'd ever come across. And it still is.
Decided to post so that the poor workin bastards who go to the blog will have at least something to read, even if it's nothing too interesting.
Tonight Kevin cooked a 'roni pizza at Grrt's. I know what you're thinking: the Roni Thief showed up, kicked our asses, adjusted his nylon stocking mask, and took all that motherfuckin roni. But you're wrong, all that really happened was that Kevin forgot about the pizza and when Garrett finally reminded him it was black as hell. Black as fuck. Black as sin. Black as sizzin, even. I'm talkin military-grade ordnance test site black. But it really got me curious, and so the next time I make a frozen pizza I'm purposely putting that thing through some rigorous experimentation.
Anyone who's been in Albia within the past few months--and especially the past few weeks--is aware of the severe Halo addiction. Well, tonight it may have broken. Grrt and me vs. Amish and Kevin was the most boring, irritating 55-minute sidewinder showdown yet. And the saddest thing is that when I quit out the score was still 0-0. Amish was sort of sitting on his flag, arguably with it jammed firmly into his rectum, the entire match. Also complicating matters was the fact that everyone is pretty damn good now, and since we're all pretty damn good together it's like we all suck again.
I unearthed my library today. Which means I pulled the piles of spare blankets and pillows off of my crates of books. Some good stuff, the prize of which is Stephen King's Danse Macabre, which I forgot I even had. It's nonfiction on the horror genre, written in '81, and is really damn good. It's at least fun to read.
This only concerns Goathead, and Cricket peripherally, but I heard that Bob Burke (gleeclub fuhrer) died over the summer. Of a stroke, unsurprisingly. And no one better give me crap about the lack of umlaut.
I'll um your fucking laut.
Mountain Dew Pitch Black: what do you think? (yes, I'm looking around my room for ideas of what to write about) I hated it for the first two bottles. Then on number Three the addictive chemicals all found the appropriate nooks in my brain and suddenly it was the most delicious thing I'd ever put in my mouth. So now there are quite a lot of cans on my desk. And I'm not the only person that happened to.
I recently interviewed with GMAC Mortgage in Waterloo. The job was for a loan counselor (pronounced looooooooooooooon cooooooooooounselooor), which sounded shitty (I applied for customer service rep). Then I found out they wanted me to start on the 13th. Okay. Then I found out that I had to call people all night and threaten to break their knees, wrists, whatever, if they didn't pay back their mortgage loans. And, as the interviewer put it, "we find that 11 pm is the bets time to catch these people at home *smile*." Then I got a call from Des Moines about a research job, and they couldn't interview me until the 13th. So I had to choose taking the shitty GMAC job or gambling and hoping for research to pull through.
So research it is. GMAC was pretty much paying in boxes of generic cereal, anyway. I don't know what the research job is or what they're paying, but I'm a-hopin that it's either interesting or lucrative. That'll put me in DM on the 15th. Speaking of:
Bil: I've had your book (Best Democracy) since . . . since a long time ago. I've been waiting to run into you again to return it but that hasn't been working. If McDonough still makes it over to your/Martin's/Morgan's place, I could leave it in his care or something.
I won't be around much this weekend. Girlfriending. But Garrett's gone at least Saturday night, anyway.
Whoa, Nelly.
I fuckin hate Nelly.
The first time I heard that phrase I was a kid, and I thought it was the stupidest thing I'd ever come across. And it still is.
Decided to post so that the poor workin bastards who go to the blog will have at least something to read, even if it's nothing too interesting.
Tonight Kevin cooked a 'roni pizza at Grrt's. I know what you're thinking: the Roni Thief showed up, kicked our asses, adjusted his nylon stocking mask, and took all that motherfuckin roni. But you're wrong, all that really happened was that Kevin forgot about the pizza and when Garrett finally reminded him it was black as hell. Black as fuck. Black as sin. Black as sizzin, even. I'm talkin military-grade ordnance test site black. But it really got me curious, and so the next time I make a frozen pizza I'm purposely putting that thing through some rigorous experimentation.
Anyone who's been in Albia within the past few months--and especially the past few weeks--is aware of the severe Halo addiction. Well, tonight it may have broken. Grrt and me vs. Amish and Kevin was the most boring, irritating 55-minute sidewinder showdown yet. And the saddest thing is that when I quit out the score was still 0-0. Amish was sort of sitting on his flag, arguably with it jammed firmly into his rectum, the entire match. Also complicating matters was the fact that everyone is pretty damn good now, and since we're all pretty damn good together it's like we all suck again.
I unearthed my library today. Which means I pulled the piles of spare blankets and pillows off of my crates of books. Some good stuff, the prize of which is Stephen King's Danse Macabre, which I forgot I even had. It's nonfiction on the horror genre, written in '81, and is really damn good. It's at least fun to read.
This only concerns Goathead, and Cricket peripherally, but I heard that Bob Burke (gleeclub fuhrer) died over the summer. Of a stroke, unsurprisingly. And no one better give me crap about the lack of umlaut.
I'll um your fucking laut.
Mountain Dew Pitch Black: what do you think? (yes, I'm looking around my room for ideas of what to write about) I hated it for the first two bottles. Then on number Three the addictive chemicals all found the appropriate nooks in my brain and suddenly it was the most delicious thing I'd ever put in my mouth. So now there are quite a lot of cans on my desk. And I'm not the only person that happened to.
I recently interviewed with GMAC Mortgage in Waterloo. The job was for a loan counselor (pronounced looooooooooooooon cooooooooooounselooor), which sounded shitty (I applied for customer service rep). Then I found out they wanted me to start on the 13th. Okay. Then I found out that I had to call people all night and threaten to break their knees, wrists, whatever, if they didn't pay back their mortgage loans. And, as the interviewer put it, "we find that 11 pm is the bets time to catch these people at home *smile*." Then I got a call from Des Moines about a research job, and they couldn't interview me until the 13th. So I had to choose taking the shitty GMAC job or gambling and hoping for research to pull through.
So research it is. GMAC was pretty much paying in boxes of generic cereal, anyway. I don't know what the research job is or what they're paying, but I'm a-hopin that it's either interesting or lucrative. That'll put me in DM on the 15th. Speaking of:
Bil: I've had your book (Best Democracy) since . . . since a long time ago. I've been waiting to run into you again to return it but that hasn't been working. If McDonough still makes it over to your/Martin's/Morgan's place, I could leave it in his care or something.
I won't be around much this weekend. Girlfriending. But Garrett's gone at least Saturday night, anyway.
Whoa, Nelly.
I fuckin hate Nelly.
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