Wake and bake.

7 Sep

Burton’s “Road Soda” snowboard description:

“It’s like, have you ever wondered what all the people you don’t know do all day? Like look at TV, and there are all those people, they all have lives man, and it’s like you don’t even know any of them. But, then like, if you got swallowed by a big whale, how long do you think it would take before you had to eat everyone else on the plane? It makes me wonder why we cook a turkey in a plastic bag anyways, you know? Want some nachos?”

Price: $420.

Haha. Everyone at Burton is baked. I like it.

Speaking of baking, I am currently baking a Pillsbury Funfetti cake. I am going to burn the apartment down. My skills in the kitchen are, let’s just say “limited.” I haven’t tried anything this advanced for probably five years. I haven’t even made macaroni and cheese in nearly three years. Really the most “cooking” I’ve done in the last year consists of boiling water for oatmeal, spreading peanut butter on wheat bread, and refilling water bottles with Brita filtered water.

….Yeah. That about covers it.

I cannot wait for winter to arrive. I need to be snowboarding, like, now. I just ordered four coats off Sierrasnowboard.com. I might have gone a little overboard. Kidding. I will not be keeping all these coats. I have a hard time buying things online that I can’t try on, so I ordered four I liked, and then when they arrive I will play dress up in the mirror for two and a half hours, trying to decide which I want to keep. I shouldn’t have done it this way. I am more indecisive than Brett Favre. I will be sweating and pacing and wringing my hands all afternoon trying to make a decision on what coat to keep. Rally the troops, we’ll be needing to take a poll.

I don’t know why I ever ask other people for their opinions. “Do you like the red one or the blue one?” I ask. Other person replies, “The blue one.” I reply, “Really? Why?” Then I get the red. I don’t make sense. Someone needs to slap my face.

Kidding. If you come anywhere near my face I will break your arm.

I don’t know who I am talking to right now.

Well, I’m moving on. And by “on” I mean “on into the kitchen to devour that freshly frosted Funfetti fanfare.” Lots of F’s.


“She looks like my friend….Peter.”


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