Tongue In Cheek.

24 Feb

I think I could compete in Olympic typing. I mean, I am a REALLY good typist. Not just in speed, but accuracy and grammar as well. When I’m typing away at my computer, it sounds like a hail storm. I feel like I make up for my lack of athletic ability with abilities like this. But where does that get me? A minimum-wage clerical job. Piss.

I hate it when people stick their tongue out in photos, especially in an attempt to look seductive. There is nothing seductive about sticking your tongue out. It’s just gross. You don’t look sexy, you look rabid. Or retarded. Both, really. The only excuse for having your tongue out in a photo is if your BAC is .2 or higher, and you’re semi-unconscious.

What if Facebook alerted you when people died? Like,

Alex Schmidt became friends with Valerie Cooper.
Jenna McMann commented on Sarah Packard’s photo.
Kyle Penney died.

….212 people like this.

Hahaha. Oh. That would make my day.

I just found out that you can major in golf at college. What the hell does this mean? How does somebody study golf at university? This means that people actually pay tens of thousands of dollars each year to become educated on a “sport” that you don’t even need to be physically fit for. You don’t need college to golf. You need orientation.

I love going to the grocery store or Sam’s Club when it’s Sample Day. C-Schultz and I were discussing this over the weekend. Don’t have enough money for lunch? Head to the grocery store with tooth-picks in hand. You’re guaranteed to get a piece of teriyaki chicken, a piece of Red Baron pizza, a wedge of cheese, and a chunk of steaming egg roll fresh out of the microwave. Just make your rounds.

Sometimes I feel bad when I take the food simply for eating purposes. I never actually have any interest in purchasing it. I act like it though. Boy, do I. I pop the tidbit into my mouth, furrow my brow a bit like I’m really focusing on the flavors, chew slowly and begin nodding my head in approval before I look back up at the employee with the plastic gloves and hair net on, and try to think of a good question to ask before I bolt off to the next sample stand. “MMMMM,” I exaggerate. “This is REALLY good! What brand is it again??” I ask, and don’t listen to the answer. I act like I’m going to take a quick walk around the produce department to think about it, and never come back. No shame.

I don’t like the idea of outdoor shopping outlets. I say this because Council Bluffs has gone from having a perfectly suitable indoor shopping mall (which they’ve turned into a ghost town that now has nothing but the Vietnamese nail salon, Taco John’s, and a U.S. Cellular kiosk inside) to moving all the larger stores like Target and Kohl’s to a shopping plaza outlet further away from my home. I don’t like this. There are only like, four suitable weeks to shop outside. The two weeks in between spring and summer, and the two weeks in between summer and fall. The rest of the time is either extremely hot and humid summer weather, which, unless you’re Indiana Jones, you don’t care for, or it’s ass-biting bitter cold outside. It’s just not practical. I am not going to go shopping if in between every single store I go to, I need to either get bundled up like an Alaskan Eskimo, or hydrate myself and apply a pint of SPF so that I don’t get heat stroke and pass out because of the blazing heat. Dumb.

That’s all for now, folks. I feel like today will be a double-header. That is to say I will be writing two notes. We’ll see how the cookie crumbles.

“My aunt just asked me if Cinco De Mayo meant Merry Christmas in Mexican. My aunt is a drunk. An ex-coke addict, too. We are all dressed up for dinner and she is wearing a t-shirt that says Aspen.



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