Oh The Douchebaggery

Holla at J.Murgs, my beautiful bibliophile! I know I broached the subject of reading as passe last night, but you calmed me with your wise beyond years take on things. I promise to one day return to goodreads and comment on what must be all of your clever musings. And though I mentioned that the emails I have gotten regarding your updates could have been construed as excessive, I will not, in fact, unsubscribe. You are a remarkable zucchini thriving in an urban jungle. And for realz, we are so doing the adult spelling bee next time. I'll be the wind beneath your wings if you'll be mine. You be my noah, i be yo wiz

http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/814183

It's Sunday. And Sundays are reserved for one thing...recovering from whatever shenanigans I got into on Friday and Saturday. That usually means some light cleaning followed by bed-rest. I was looking forward to spending some time with my old friends master shake, meatwad, frylock, and dear beloved Carl, but have managed to misplace all my aqua teen dvd's. I vaguely recall lending them to someone but I can't remember who. (If you're reading this and are in posession of said d.v.d.'s please remind me so I cold-cock you one...I kid!) So, I have nothing to watch because I get three channels and for some god-forsaken reason they are all covering GOLF matches...or whatever you call stupid fucking golfing events. Therefore, I tool around the internet a little and find some online shows. And Christ, I'm a masochist but I settled on The Bachelorette. I still feel a little like I have been mentally gang-raped. I have not seen so much posturing since America's Next Top Model. Oh, yeah. I went there. These guys are all bitching about getting a rose from this chick who---not gonna' lie---is kind of a buttaface. oh yeah, here I go again...I haven't seen so many tools since This Old House. Ladies and gentlemen, can I get some butter because I am on a roll! Anywho, these tards are duking it out for what I don't know. The whole spectacle is a giant televised pissing contest. And the entire time I am thinking, "This is reality T.V., right? Which means this constitutes reality for a hefty slice of the viewership. And the viewership for this schlock is rather obscene." I stopped watching twenty minutes in (about ten minutes after I felt last night's tacos making their grand re-appearance) and thought about how to go about finding a prime piece of real-estate on the moon where things still seem relatively normal.

I lost my phone. Again.  Those who know me know I have an alternate pre-paid for just this situation.  I'm hoping you know that number---cause' of course I don't.  And it's Friday night.  Even though I have resigned myself to a quiet night at home 'cause I have to get up hella' early, I need the attention.  I need to know someone wants to hang with me tonight, even though I'll have to offer what will most likely be a crushing blow.  Right? 

Work sucked. What's new ? And I already opted to take the night easy because I'm getting up early to hit the beach for the first time this summer. I am all kinds of annoyed because I have to get a new bathing suit in preparation. This time of year always blows because the sunshine and I have issues. The bitch hates me. If I'm not straight-up day-glo I'm hot pink and freckly. The latter of which, I'll mostly be by noon tomorrow. But tonight I am just white. So, I go to TJ Maxx after work (I'm anti-mall and not liquid enough to afford retail) and prepare myself for the pure skeeviness of putting pieces of

I started a gluten free diet about two months ago and I think I mighta' been duped.  For a while I was living on bread and pastries.  Non-fiction.  I'm ape-shit for free food and all we gots where I work is pure decadence.  But while I was living high on the hog, I got sick as a dog--oh snap--I'm a poet.  

I have the overwhelming desire to start my own dance circle.  Not some hippie patchouli didgeridoo affair, but an actual force-field of awesomeness that encircles me as I dance.  Nobody else can enter this circle.  I want people to fear me on the dance floor.  Thing is, I don't have too many moves.  Fortunately, I have a friend who shares my fuel for the funk, Ms. Alize! (shout outs and shoulda shrugs) . Alize and I have been discussing a plan of recourse to remedy our moves and have decided that (and, Alli, because it's on the internet, word is bond now---it's on)we will be breakin' shortly.  Krush Grooves to commence in no time.  

Brooklyn is better because of you---Providence, not so much.  Everytime I don the acid-washed and bedazzled jean jacket I think of you.  And Tiffany a little.  It truly could have been so beautiful, and so right, everyday of my life.  

and it's in full swing.  

allow myself to introduce myself. I have been in the 02906 for almost five years.  I have searched whole-heartedly for a venue in which I can get my groove on.  I've had a few fair mistresses...