Germaphobe.

22 Feb

Playing “Slap The Bag” just seems like a really good way to get strep to me. I don’t mean to be a party pooper, but when I see pictures of people sharing that saggy bag of fermented grapes, all I can see are germs, germs, germs. Mono is not something I need to add to my plate right now, folks. I simply don’t have time, you know, with the holidays and all.

Jess, Ryan, Trent & I celebrated our “family” Christmas this evening since we will be going our separate ways for the holidays tomorrow. In celebration, Trent cooked up a massive mess of chicken tikka masala, an Indian dish that is so good it will make you cry and change your religion. Unfortunately, my clothing and hair will reek of curry for the next 2-4 days, but that’s just a small price to pay for such a delicious feast. Needless to say, my organs will be very upset with me tomorrow.

Why don’t people with unibrows fix them? A unibrow is not like a secret hairy mole hidden on the back of a person’s neck that they legitimately might go years without noticing—Even a blind person can feel the hairy caterpillar resting between their eyes. And it’s such an easy problem to fix! There are multiple ways to rid yourself of unsightly facial hair: waxing, plucking, shaving–the possibilities are endless. Why not take two or three minutes out of your week to remove that type of eyesore and make yourself less offensive to look at, and ultimately more attractive?

Take US Senator, Bob Casey for example. This man is not only a seemingly “normal” individual, but he is on television almost daily, meaning he sees himself twice as often as the average human being who only has the occasional run-in with the household mirror throughout the day. Has no one suggested taking a weed whacker to his face yet? I’m perplexed.

You know what I don’t get? “Accidental overdoses.” You hear people croaking all the time after “accidentally” overdosing on drugs, like DJ A.M. for example. I’m sorry, but am I to believe that people like DJ A.M. and white trash Brittany Murphy mistook heroin for Evian, and took so much of it their hearts stopped? No. Last time I checked, it was fairly difficult to confuse Vicodin with Tylenol PM, seeing as one requires a medical prescription and comes in a distinctly labeled, flamboyantly orange container, and the other does not. Maybe I’m just taking for granted my privileged education.

On that note, who does the media think they’re kidding by trying to “uncover the cause” behind Brittany Murphy’s death? Are we joking? If you think it was anything but drugs, you need to be shipped off to boarding school and treated with a labotomy. Originally when the news broke about her death, they reported that she died of “natural causes.”

….

Riiiiight. If you consider cocaine to be “natural.” I mean it IS from a plant.

Speaking of celebrities, will someone tell me when they will stop taking over my television? I’m not sure I’ve even gotten a chance to get the local weather forecast in the past three weeks because of Tiger Woods and his thirty-six slices on the side hogging up the screen. Why do people care so much about celebrities lives? “Mark” down the street from Time Warner Cable has been cheating on his wife for years, but no one gives a shit about him, ya dig? Media.

While we’re on the topic of Tiger Woods, my dad told me a funny joke the other day:

Q: What’s the difference between Santa Claus and Tiger Woods?

………..(suspense)………….

A: Santa stopped at 3 ho’s.

*BAH bum, psh!*

Done. Time for bed.

Me: “Do you think we smell like Indian food right now and just don’t know it yet?”
Ryan: “Oh yeah. Horrible.”
Me: “I bet it’s leaking outside, too. We’re really hotboxing it in here.”
Ryan: “You know it is–if Christmas carolers came here tonight, they’d take one whiff and turn around and leave, like, ‘These people obviously don’t celebrate Christmas.'”

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