11.26.2010
11.25.2010
11.24.2010
double dutch anyone?
What the fuck are you people running for?
There is no need to run unless you are escaping killers or tigers, or there is a fire you need to get away from (and then you only need to run far enough to get away from the fire, which is usually not that far, it qualifies more as sprinting and if you are on fire, please, never run).
Are you all training in the event you have to run? In this case, it wont matter to people like me who will just trip you so the tiger stops chasing us both (or killer, me nodding back like "We are cool right, you got her to mangle up and what not, no need to kill me too" and then I can walk away, again, no need to run here it will instill more confidence that you have the killers back if you act nonchalant).
Marathons: you aren't really running to travel (suddenly a massive amount of people in tiny shorts are going to vacation somewhere on the coast), a finish line counts for nil when there is no prize. Who cares if you are first if a cheetah can still kill you.
I might be able to see running for some pie, if the pie was at the grocery store and you needed to have that shit right the fuck now but only crazy people and pregnant people require pie that quickly and crazy people belong in nuthouses and preggers ladies should have some sort of pie retrieval person for them as this is an absolute safety issue.
Running, the baby could fall out of their uterus onto the floor and we cant have a bunch of cracked infant skulls mushy brains everywhere, plus, gross, who wants to see babies dropping out like that. Ms. Preggers in the midst of Pie Withdrawal isn't paying attention, drags the baby by the umbilical cord all over the floor and it being sticky, collects grit and dust and small bits of garbage to it GROSS. Plus, what happens if there is a dog around who grabs it and suddenly she is playing tug of war with a mean old dog but its not working out so well because her grip on the slimy infant sucks, dog wins, total bummer. Probably it would also be dangerous like when you get a snag in your kitted sweater and it starts to unravel CAN YOU IMAGINE?!
Umbilical cord elasticity.
*SNAP* back : Whip Whip Whip.
NO apologies.
None.
There is no need to run unless you are escaping killers or tigers, or there is a fire you need to get away from (and then you only need to run far enough to get away from the fire, which is usually not that far, it qualifies more as sprinting and if you are on fire, please, never run).
Are you all training in the event you have to run? In this case, it wont matter to people like me who will just trip you so the tiger stops chasing us both (or killer, me nodding back like "We are cool right, you got her to mangle up and what not, no need to kill me too" and then I can walk away, again, no need to run here it will instill more confidence that you have the killers back if you act nonchalant).
Marathons: you aren't really running to travel (suddenly a massive amount of people in tiny shorts are going to vacation somewhere on the coast), a finish line counts for nil when there is no prize. Who cares if you are first if a cheetah can still kill you.
I might be able to see running for some pie, if the pie was at the grocery store and you needed to have that shit right the fuck now but only crazy people and pregnant people require pie that quickly and crazy people belong in nuthouses and preggers ladies should have some sort of pie retrieval person for them as this is an absolute safety issue.
Running, the baby could fall out of their uterus onto the floor and we cant have a bunch of cracked infant skulls mushy brains everywhere, plus, gross, who wants to see babies dropping out like that. Ms. Preggers in the midst of Pie Withdrawal isn't paying attention, drags the baby by the umbilical cord all over the floor and it being sticky, collects grit and dust and small bits of garbage to it GROSS. Plus, what happens if there is a dog around who grabs it and suddenly she is playing tug of war with a mean old dog but its not working out so well because her grip on the slimy infant sucks, dog wins, total bummer. Probably it would also be dangerous like when you get a snag in your kitted sweater and it starts to unravel CAN YOU IMAGINE?!
Umbilical cord elasticity.
*SNAP* back : Whip Whip Whip.
NO apologies.
None.
11.23.2010
and for providing me an outlet, always.
I am going to fashion hubby a beard of feathers so that he can pretend to be Turkey Claus and pass out gizzards.
Thanksgiving, Happy Thanksgiving to all. Preemptive, obviously, I'm fuckin' 'merikan, you're lucky I don't rain down sulfur bombs or bibles on your unsuspecting ass.
They had Christmas decorations up before Halloween ended this year, which made me want to puke up half eaten Laffy Taffy. Thanksgiving needs some more umph so it can get enough bounce off the ropes to clothesline Halloween and drop kick-Christmas back into their perspective corners. I love Thanksgiving. I love giving thanks. I have so much to give thanks for, starting with "today I woke up" and ending with "tonight, I have a bed to sleep in" and one day, ONE DAY, I am going to be thankful that little Cherub Jesus Claus is over shadowed by the mystical Unicorn celebration of Love and Light between Native Americans and those who would come to slaughter and eventually confine them (having publicly announced heartfelt blah blah blah erect a statue and have a moment of silence remorse for taking 99% of their land and committing genocide in the name of something entirely retarded like fear of turkeys, I am sure).
Pass the yams, please and thank you.
This year I am excited to celebrate with both my dysfunctional and new extended family together AT THE SAME TIME. I used to fear my personal delusion inventors leaking crazy onto others but now that I am in my thirties, I find times like these amusing and much anticipated. I almost hope my step father gets drunk and starts pontificating on the role of high fructose corn syrup in plate tectonics. Someone at some point will cry and someone (not naming names) will laugh hysterically as a result. A mouth will drop. Something will break, will included. It's like Insanity Bingo (get your cards, kiddies).
Thank you family, for making life so goddamn interesting.
We are traveling later that evening for to stay in an undisclosed location stocked with beer and unmentionables (imported Peruvian beavers). Which means basically my house is free to pillage and loot if you so dare to take on the hoard and laundry pile. Please don't steal my panties, especially the ruffly black and pink ones.
Thank you brother in law, for taking me away like Calgon should have if the plumbing was worth anything and I could actually take a bona fide scalding hot bath to wash these sins away.
The rest of the soon to be blurry days off will be filled with food, reading, bleach, laughter, sex and slack the likes of no decent human on earth should ever plan for.
Thank you Bourbon, for sponsoring my life long sobriety.
Seven other things I say thanks for today.
1. Dinosaurs having roamed the earth.
2. Rocky and Bullwinkle.
3. You.
4. There are no cracks in the sidewalk in front of my house.
5. Knowledge that bottled water indeed has an expiration date.
6. Impending hopscotch tournaments.
7. Seven.
All my love to the Universe, yours, theirs, and ours.
Thanksgiving, Happy Thanksgiving to all. Preemptive, obviously, I'm fuckin' 'merikan, you're lucky I don't rain down sulfur bombs or bibles on your unsuspecting ass.
They had Christmas decorations up before Halloween ended this year, which made me want to puke up half eaten Laffy Taffy. Thanksgiving needs some more umph so it can get enough bounce off the ropes to clothesline Halloween and drop kick-Christmas back into their perspective corners. I love Thanksgiving. I love giving thanks. I have so much to give thanks for, starting with "today I woke up" and ending with "tonight, I have a bed to sleep in" and one day, ONE DAY, I am going to be thankful that little Cherub Jesus Claus is over shadowed by the mystical Unicorn celebration of Love and Light between Native Americans and those who would come to slaughter and eventually confine them (having publicly announced heartfelt blah blah blah erect a statue and have a moment of silence remorse for taking 99% of their land and committing genocide in the name of something entirely retarded like fear of turkeys, I am sure).
Pass the yams, please and thank you.
This year I am excited to celebrate with both my dysfunctional and new extended family together AT THE SAME TIME. I used to fear my personal delusion inventors leaking crazy onto others but now that I am in my thirties, I find times like these amusing and much anticipated. I almost hope my step father gets drunk and starts pontificating on the role of high fructose corn syrup in plate tectonics. Someone at some point will cry and someone (not naming names) will laugh hysterically as a result. A mouth will drop. Something will break, will included. It's like Insanity Bingo (get your cards, kiddies).Thank you family, for making life so goddamn interesting.
We are traveling later that evening for to stay in an undisclosed location stocked with beer and unmentionables (imported Peruvian beavers). Which means basically my house is free to pillage and loot if you so dare to take on the hoard and laundry pile. Please don't steal my panties, especially the ruffly black and pink ones.
Thank you brother in law, for taking me away like Calgon should have if the plumbing was worth anything and I could actually take a bona fide scalding hot bath to wash these sins away.
The rest of the soon to be blurry days off will be filled with food, reading, bleach, laughter, sex and slack the likes of no decent human on earth should ever plan for.
Thank you Bourbon, for sponsoring my life long sobriety.
Seven other things I say thanks for today.
1. Dinosaurs having roamed the earth.
2. Rocky and Bullwinkle.
3. You.
4. There are no cracks in the sidewalk in front of my house.
5. Knowledge that bottled water indeed has an expiration date.
6. Impending hopscotch tournaments.
7. Seven.
All my love to the Universe, yours, theirs, and ours.
11.17.2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)