Cool Runnings.

16 Mar

Business meeting: “Alright, team—-how can we market our products more directly toward three-year-olds?”

Cripes.

I feel like Russell Brand started selling produce after writing his book, My Booky Wook.

I wish my nose would stop running like a leaky Delta bathtub faucet for once in my life. I don’t know when this started, but I feel like I’ve had a runny nose consistently for at least a year now. It’s particularly serious when I eat – especially if I eat anything hot, spicy, or well-seasoned. It’s starting to really chap my ass. Figuratively, not literally. I’m considering balling up Kleenexes and stuffing them into my nostrils to dam the dripping snot. Is there any other solution? It won’t be long before I have that permanent red crease across my nose from wiping it all the time. I can’t afford to look like that. Do you understand? Can anybody help me? Get Ghostbusters on the phone.

Or…Nosebusters. I’m a tool.

I just spent some time going through the eight billion pictures on my Blackberry, and found a nice hearty handful of photos I secretly took of more freaks of nature out and about. There’s no sense in holding them back, so I’m going to go ahead and share some of them.

This atrocity was found during my last trip to Breckenridge, Colorado to snowboard. There I was, waiting at the Peak 8 Super Chair, when directly in front of me I spotted this bitch–and when I say “bitch,” I mean it in the most literal form possible:

hahahaha. It’s quite obvious I was caught red-handed during the final photo, but it was totally worth it. Who does this to themselves? This woman must be self-loathing. What grown human being has so little dignity that they deliberately wear a Siberian Husky dog hat over their helmet—-in public? Do what you want at home, by all means. But why submit yourself to this type of criticism? My god.

Then I found this guy:

Go Huskers. “Are you from Nebraska by chance?” This guy looks like he came straight out of that skiing game that used to be on my Packard Bell computer back when I was like seven years old—-Windows 95. Haha. This guy’s snow pants—-his coat? He looks like he’s ready to ride a toboggan down the hill behind the school library, not ski down a blue-black in Colorado. I’m glad I’m not that man’s child. I would be so embarrassed.

That’s enough for now I think. More later.

I hate it when people put the toilet paper roll on upside-down. Example:

Who does this? This formation is just asking for the next user to accidentally pull out two feet of tissue instead of the intended two squares. So frustrating. I’m the person that goes to practical strangers’ houses with friends for dinner, and while in their powder room, take the liberty of turning over their toilet rolls like it’s my own bathroom. Public restrooms in department stores? Same thing. Except sometimes they lock those rolls of AngelSoft on there like it’s worth its weight in gold. Who the shit steals toilet paper? Besides college students, bums, people on Welfare, kleptos—-nevermind.

This weekend was daylight savings; the ol’ “spring forward” bit. I hate this half of daylight savings. Losing an hour of sleep is not something that I can pretend to get excited about. Gaining an hour of sleep, now that’s my cup of tea. I love sleeping more than Lady Gaga loves glitter and and penises—-especially her own. Speaking of sleeping, I had a pretty ludicrous dream last night. Here’s the scene:

I am at a resort of some kind that has a large pond surrounded by a walking path, near a forest. I am strolling along on this path around the pond when suddenly a pack of wolves appears and starts attacking me. Out of nowhere, Brandon Franks arrives and attempts to ward off the wolves in order to save me. For a moment, we fend them off, but only temporarily. All of a sudden, a large public bathroom pops up next to the pond. We bolt over to it to seek shelter, but just as we enter the doors, the wolves return, and are forcing their way in. Brandon and I desperately try to keep them from breaking into the restrooms, when a man peeps his head in through a door on the other side of the bathroom.

“You’ve got to beat them to the finish line,” he says. Is this some sort of game? We were disgusted. Regardless, we had to get away from the wild dogs before they ate us alive. Before starting our dead sprint to the lobby however, some rude bitch environmentalist woman showed up. She was being a real whore about the wolf situation, and then told us that we were actually a part of a competitive race at the resort, in which we had to escape the wolf attack AND be the first back at the lobby to win. We busted out of the public bathroom and started sprinting, just hauling ass toward the lobby of the resort. After running and sweating and desperately trying to reach the finish line, I finally make it to the end. The man from earlier shows up, and presents me with my prize—-a shitty ass pair of blue slippers with a hamburger stitched onto it. What the hell. I was pissed off, to say the least.

I’m pretty sure I sleep walk and drop acid at night. These dreams make no sense.

Well, I spent the better part of my day attempting to pack for our move to New England. Let’s just say that I’m a much better cook than a packer. And in case you didn’t know, I’m a TERRIBLE cook.

Come pack for me. I’ll give you eleven dollars. I need to go to bed. Bye.

“Those aren’t even the same color. They’re different shades. I’m not comfortable with that.”
-Trent talking about aloe vera lotions.

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One Response to “Cool Runnings.”

  1. Kim V March 16, 2010 at 2:01 pm #

    Becca, your dream makes perfect sense. That’s what you get for making fun of that lady’s hat. I bet all you would’ve needed was to be wearing that and the wolves would’ve run off crying.

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