i took apart ‘machismo’s left-handed cap opener. i then put it back together.
it’s now a right-handed can opener. hahahaha. i can’t wait to see his face next time he tries to open a can. maybe i’ll recognize the face of total frustration i wore when trying to open a can backwards.
he’ll look like he’s ‘past midnight on the crazy clock’, and i’ll look like the cheshire cat.
example 1: the man in my store who felt obligated to change the lyrics of the famed clash song to “Lando Calling” (my name for those not in the know), and then sing it to me. in hindsight, given my screenname and the meaning of the song, there’s a tinge of humor not entirely lost on me.
example B: the woman in front of me at the supermarket who had a problem paying for the things she wanted. not monitarily mind you, but in principal. she had decided in the checkout lane that paying the listed price for her items was not going to fly. so she haggled. HAGGLING?!?! at a supermarket? the evil twitch and leer of doom took over. no convulsions were had (thankfully). needless to say, she did not get any discounts, but did decide she wasnt in the need for a few things (tomatoes, onions) and shoes apparently. i wont go into the ’slippers in public’ thing now, but let it be known, this is something i have very little tolerance for.
see? easy as sunday morning. now, i’m off to make yon chili. be good,
the sexiest eskimo.
got an email today from someone
an ex.
apparently her father committed suicide.
jeez, what a horrible year for living so far. people are dropping left and right. i feel horrible for her instead of about her for the moment. it’s hard for me to imagine why a man at his age would go through with it, in what are supposed to be the best years of his life. seems like there would be more positives and far fewer negatives haunting you. i didn’t know the man, never had the chance to meet him. im sure he was like alot of fathers though, trying his best with what he had. i guess sometimes, some people just stop trying. i remember what that was like, a best-friend not father, and what i went through. i wouldnt ever wish that on her, even on the bad days. i used to joke sometimes that i wish her well in life (and for her to gain 100 lbs.). i just hope that things resolve themselves quickly and as painlessly as possible for her family, because i really do wish her well (and if she could get started on that 100 lbs, that would be great).
i also wonder how long she’s been reading my blog (but have a feeling its been quite awhile).
you know you’re in for an interesting night at work when you get a cop to repeat “KILL WHITEY!” right before he realizes he is whitey. did you hear? F-Troop on dvd soon. count the minutes with me. i feel horrible for you. really. sitting here reading what has, this week turned into a daylog. and you know what?
i fucking hate daylogs. they run a close second to the “i’m so depressed i want to die, but wait, i’ll write about it for THREE FUCKING YEARS ONLINE AND SHOW YOU PICTURES OF ME CUTTING MYSELF SO I CAN GET ATTENTION!”
whoa. sorry. didnt mean to let that get out of control. i was in full fledged rant mode for a moment. i’m glad i didnt get started on the diet journals. guess i dont feel like i have alot to write about or comment on at the moment. everything is going ok, trying to make some things better. better myself in the process perhaps, and that makes for shitty reading.
i went to the store the other day, with ‘machismo’ (this was the day after i caught him watching and enjoying ‘meet joe black’). and in a weird turn of event, we started wondering around the underclothing. i found some boxers with elephants on them that i had to have. because, you know, elephants. ok, maybe that doesnt explain it. it did bother him that i was pushing the cart around and talking to him about them. “elephants dude! elephants!” i was doing it to piss him off, and it worked faster than i had hoped. who knew he wouldn’t like to talk about my underwear?
i also got a new bed. and for you fine ladies out there that want to help me break it in? theres an open invitation. wait, that would go against that whole ‘good guy morality thing’ i pride myself on, wouldnt it?
anyone know a way around that?
to the pleasantly plump working women of the bank of oklahoma, please don’t tell stories referring to some mans size by pointing to a guy in line and saying:
“he’s even huger than that guy, but with muscle!”
it’s tacky (not to mention horrible grammatically). also, you will crush the poor mans soul, and what was a decent day for him. talk about skipping a man’s stone into a festering sea of shit…
Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone.
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