Man-dog frantically running around in little blue chonies is hilarious. Man-dog frantically pulling down his chonies to take a fake shit on the lawn… priceless. This is hands down my second favorite Will Ferrell moment. (First favorite is in Elf, when he runs full speed at and jumps on the Christmas tree).
Ironic mustache, ironic lies, ironic butt cracks, ironic greasy hair. Ironic is the new best form of entertainment ever. “Ever” is also ironic but I’ll tell you about that later.
Recently my boss asked me why my friends drink so much shitty whiskey. I said, dunno. Maybe they think it’s ironic. And he said, well they’re going to ironically kill their livers. That’s just straight funny.
Also the best movie ever. Dirty Work. And it’s directed by Bob Saget - who’d think?!
“seemed more like a live journal entry” is what Jame said about the ridiculous shit I just posted. Larbage giant hung over self-loathing angsty depressed piece of shit beef ball. Dum idea, forget I said anything.
Sometimes I feel like I’m never going to be good enough for anyone but myself. I swear, it’s so difficult to be a girl in this city. Or maybe it’s just difficult to be me in this city. I have trouble being anything but honest about how I feel and what I want. I don’t like games, either. I just don’t understand why people make it so difficult for each other. My friend got dumped yesterday. My beautiful, funny, awesome friend. And the guy is a dick but still. I feel like if it can’t even work for her, it’s never going to work for me. If two people like each other why on earth do they have to make it such a gigantic pain in the ass ordeal? Why can’t it be easier? I would never wish upon another human being the things that guys have been making me feel lately. It would be cruel and it would be mean. And yet it’s become normal to expect that every guy in San Francisco is a giant asshole, will probably make me feel like shit and I’ll start to question everything about myself. That is fucked up.
Top most annoying names ever.
Skyler.
Ok, that’s all I’ve got right now. But Skyler is a super annoying name. More on that later.
I was gifted a new friend at work today. His name is Beeftopher. He lights up and his ears do a little jig when I receive emails. Theoretically, anyway. He’s feeling a little under the weather - not working quite yet.
Today I had an Olympia beer for lunch. “It’s in the water.” It is water. At $3 I felt like it was a little bit overpriced. And Ryan called me school on Saturday again. No class.
The other day I bought a giant can of Mickey’s malt liquor at Safeway in Lafayette. The cashier looked at me and goes “I don’t get a lot of ladies buying Mickey’s.” I pointed out that I’m a special kind of lady.
When I was a young child my diabetic grandmother let me give her insulin shots. Who trusts a seven year-old with a needle?
We did it.
“We proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.”
Read the full speech from Grant Park, if you missed it last night.
I take it back. I take it all back. Walter doesn’t have to get a job. And he’s not a giant faker (a giant baby, yes). I am the worst mom ever. I was so self-centered and thought Walter was mad at me that I failed to see what was in front of my face. He is actually very sick.
Walty went back to the emergency room last night. After a few tests we determined he has severe pain in his neck and that’s why he’s walking stiffly, slowly and with a lowered head. The most likely cause for his neck pain is canine meningitis. Fortunately our best friend’s variety of meningitis doesn’t have the same death connotations as our own. So he should be OK. I took him back to the hospital this morning and he’s staying there overnight. He’s getting a spinal tap, some x-rays, more blood tests, more urine tests and I don’t even know what else.
I, meanwhile, am a mess. And that means I’m baking squashes and yelling at my sister on the phone. “I hate you!!! Why do you have to be such a bitch?!?!” And she laughs and reminds me I’m crazy. Between my own emotionality and the two hours of sleep I got last night I imagine the day can only get more interesting. I’ll probably freak out as soon as my squashes are ready and then bake something else equally random. And I’ll take it to the office and get made fun of for bringing baked hobo roots for lunch. Anyway, that’s not the point… Point is let’s keep our fingers crossed for Walty and hope the kitchen sink of tests they’re running on him bring up some kind of definitive answer. And then let’s cure that, whatever it is.
