wield bloodlust; offwield cutlass; kill whitedawn
My days masquerading as Jeff Wheeler, master of the web, are over. Curses.
Wheeler just designed the blog, while I built the rest of the media empire that is that website. Who is this wheeler? I have no idea. A twinkle in the eye of some blog design company. There, Andy. THERE.
One of the worst things, in a way, is when you have some book or album or movie that you ascribe a lot of meaning to, and think about a lot, and sort of have as inspiration. And then you read an interview with the author/musician/director where he or she is like "yeah, I was thinkin of waffles. That's basically all about waffles." And you're like--what about the human condition? The human condition has nothing to do with maple syrup!
High point of the weekend: Amish in my passenger seat, Wes in the backseat. Some Meagan's sister looking SUV is behind us. Wes is sort of humping the backseat/digging through the trunk through the seat and finally notices that it's jimmy in the SUV, staring with standard jimmy confusion. which isn't surprising, since he saw wes for the first time in months, humping the backseat of an unfamiliar car. Wonderfully, we left things at that.
After the hookah bar, while Cricket and I wander back to his car in the drunk district of Ames:
CRICKET: How was the hookah?
TIM: Lovvvely.
PASSING JOCKISH DRUNKS: LOVELY! *chortle chortle*
TIM (louder!) LOVELY!
...
And me just now with a co-worker:
TIM: *explains car accident*
WORKER: Oh my god! Is everyone okay?
TIM: Yes.
WORKER: Were you wearing a seatbelt? Who was with you?
TIM: Alyssa. And my mother and neice.
WORKER: Were they all wearing seatbelts?
TIM: Well, I don't know. Probably not the people in the backseat.
WORKER: (look of disgust)You put people in the backseat?
TIM: ...? Yeah.
WORKER: (still morally appalled)You put your mom and neice in the backseat?
TIM: ...it is a four door car. And there were...four of us.
WORKER: There wasn't any room in the front?
TIM: ...
WORKER: Well, how's your grandma? She wasn't there, was she? Was she wearing a seatbelt.
TIM: ...(mentally shaking head)...No, she's flatout dead now.
WORKER: YOUR GRANDMA IS DEAD?!
TIM: Actually, no.
WORKER: ...
Wheeler just designed the blog, while I built the rest of the media empire that is that website. Who is this wheeler? I have no idea. A twinkle in the eye of some blog design company. There, Andy. THERE.
One of the worst things, in a way, is when you have some book or album or movie that you ascribe a lot of meaning to, and think about a lot, and sort of have as inspiration. And then you read an interview with the author/musician/director where he or she is like "yeah, I was thinkin of waffles. That's basically all about waffles." And you're like--what about the human condition? The human condition has nothing to do with maple syrup!
High point of the weekend: Amish in my passenger seat, Wes in the backseat. Some Meagan's sister looking SUV is behind us. Wes is sort of humping the backseat/digging through the trunk through the seat and finally notices that it's jimmy in the SUV, staring with standard jimmy confusion. which isn't surprising, since he saw wes for the first time in months, humping the backseat of an unfamiliar car. Wonderfully, we left things at that.
After the hookah bar, while Cricket and I wander back to his car in the drunk district of Ames:
CRICKET: How was the hookah?
TIM: Lovvvely.
PASSING JOCKISH DRUNKS: LOVELY! *chortle chortle*
TIM (louder!) LOVELY!
...
And me just now with a co-worker:
TIM: *explains car accident*
WORKER: Oh my god! Is everyone okay?
TIM: Yes.
WORKER: Were you wearing a seatbelt? Who was with you?
TIM: Alyssa. And my mother and neice.
WORKER: Were they all wearing seatbelts?
TIM: Well, I don't know. Probably not the people in the backseat.
WORKER: (look of disgust)You put people in the backseat?
TIM: ...? Yeah.
WORKER: (still morally appalled)You put your mom and neice in the backseat?
TIM: ...it is a four door car. And there were...four of us.
WORKER: There wasn't any room in the front?
TIM: ...
WORKER: Well, how's your grandma? She wasn't there, was she? Was she wearing a seatbelt.
TIM: ...(mentally shaking head)...No, she's flatout dead now.
WORKER: YOUR GRANDMA IS DEAD?!
TIM: Actually, no.
WORKER: ...
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