We Have Liftoff
Mostly. Got all hooked up with internet, but I am having trouble with the dratted laptop finding the dratted wireless signal. So for now, I am typing on a desk, not my lap. As I prefer to look on the bright side, I am thrilled nonetheless.
I am still surrounded with mountains of boxes. How can I possibly have so much stuff? I keep thinking, "there, that room is all done", then I find 50 more boxes of shit that belong in it. I think I'm never going to move again. Maybe if I stay long enough, my landlord will see fit to simply bequeath me this house. Hey, it could happen.
Other exciting news:
I am going to have a Big Gay Cinco de Mayo starting at a gay sportsbar, then moving on to a gay cowboy bar. Who knew? My mind doesn't know which way to turn. Take one of my favorite kinds of bars (gay) and mix it with my worst kind of bar (cowboy and/or sports) and I just don't know what to think. I'm assured that that drinks will be cheap, and they're both close to my house, so I think it will be a grand time. I'm already in a tizzy over what to wear. One should dress nice for a gay bar, but one should dress casual for a sports bar. One should never dress country, not even for a cowboy bar. The me part of me is fully prepared to go shopping. After all, it's been months since I bought new clothes, and even longer since I bought going out clothes. The new, boring, responsible part of me knows I shouldn't do that. We'll see who wins. I've been awfully good lately. I'm a good shopper, I can get something fantastic for under $30 I bet.
Also, as reported at Casey's, a major tool just got canned from my work. This guy was (is) the biggest douche ever. For a while, I felt bad for him and thought he was just a lame guy who tried too hard. I tried to tell the boys to be nice to him. But no, his dickwaddery could not be denied, and finally even I gave up and recognized him for what he is: a sad, lame 40 year old man married to a 25 year old woman who looks 14, who thinks women are nothing but that thing surrounding a vagina (even the women who would never deign to be with him. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't know that there are any women who would never deign to be with him), who develops man-crushes on nearby alpha-males, rolling over on his back like a dog all the while still convinced he's the pack leader, bullshitting his way through every situation rather than taking the 5 minutes to learn what he's talking about, dropping compliments on everybody and never knowing that everyone can smell his insincerity from miles away, a VP who wears t-shirts and flip-flops to work (for the 5 hours he spends there, anyway) and who wears matching shirts and rides bikes with his girlchild wife while lying to his employees about where he is.
Wow. Ok I'm done. I told Casey I'd give this guy all my negative energy. Good thing he's leaving, this isn't good for me.
I'm off to read some Rob Brezny and find my good energy again. Pronoia, check it out, man.
I am still surrounded with mountains of boxes. How can I possibly have so much stuff? I keep thinking, "there, that room is all done", then I find 50 more boxes of shit that belong in it. I think I'm never going to move again. Maybe if I stay long enough, my landlord will see fit to simply bequeath me this house. Hey, it could happen.
Other exciting news:
I am going to have a Big Gay Cinco de Mayo starting at a gay sportsbar, then moving on to a gay cowboy bar. Who knew? My mind doesn't know which way to turn. Take one of my favorite kinds of bars (gay) and mix it with my worst kind of bar (cowboy and/or sports) and I just don't know what to think. I'm assured that that drinks will be cheap, and they're both close to my house, so I think it will be a grand time. I'm already in a tizzy over what to wear. One should dress nice for a gay bar, but one should dress casual for a sports bar. One should never dress country, not even for a cowboy bar. The me part of me is fully prepared to go shopping. After all, it's been months since I bought new clothes, and even longer since I bought going out clothes. The new, boring, responsible part of me knows I shouldn't do that. We'll see who wins. I've been awfully good lately. I'm a good shopper, I can get something fantastic for under $30 I bet.
Also, as reported at Casey's, a major tool just got canned from my work. This guy was (is) the biggest douche ever. For a while, I felt bad for him and thought he was just a lame guy who tried too hard. I tried to tell the boys to be nice to him. But no, his dickwaddery could not be denied, and finally even I gave up and recognized him for what he is: a sad, lame 40 year old man married to a 25 year old woman who looks 14, who thinks women are nothing but that thing surrounding a vagina (even the women who would never deign to be with him. Unsurprisingly, he doesn't know that there are any women who would never deign to be with him), who develops man-crushes on nearby alpha-males, rolling over on his back like a dog all the while still convinced he's the pack leader, bullshitting his way through every situation rather than taking the 5 minutes to learn what he's talking about, dropping compliments on everybody and never knowing that everyone can smell his insincerity from miles away, a VP who wears t-shirts and flip-flops to work (for the 5 hours he spends there, anyway) and who wears matching shirts and rides bikes with his girlchild wife while lying to his employees about where he is.
Wow. Ok I'm done. I told Casey I'd give this guy all my negative energy. Good thing he's leaving, this isn't good for me.
I'm off to read some Rob Brezny and find my good energy again. Pronoia, check it out, man.
posted by The Noillyprat Cat @ 5:43 PM
2 Comments:
A fine closing to our working with that JagBag.
Wanna egg his house?
We're having a Cinco de Moostache party at our house. I've been growing my moustache for two weeks now, and I have to say I look in prime form to go driving around middle schools in a white van.
Post a Comment
<< Home