It's been several weeks, I know, I know. There is quite a delightful amount of news to catch up on, yet now is not a good time to do so. By next Friday, I promise you will be completely up to date on all of the things that have happened to me and by me in the month of July. They include: a missing tooth (not mine), a missing car window and ipod (both mine...well not anymore I guess, but they used to be), an office joke that is so far above my head I'm having trouble keeping troublesome fact from absurd fiction, a heat wave, a fiscally negligent date, a pumpkin plant, the continued diminishing of my dignity, a handful of trysts (although the women involved have been highly unaware of said one-sided mental relationship), an obese marathon training Mormon waiting for her boyfriend to come back from his preposterous mission in South America, cookies, scones, breakfast bars, upside down cakes, and a hilarious comment regarding a blueberry that was completely lost in translation.
To keep your attention while I pour my soul into words, I'll leave you with a tremendous video:
You hear that? T.O. thinks that the tiny 4 game suspension tagged onto Michael Vick's return is excessive. In fact, it's like "kicking a dead horse into the ground" he says. AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! I doubt he appreciated the hilarity of his poignant comment
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Wednesday 1 July 2009
Ultimate Humiliation Will Ultimately Lead to Ultimate Hilarity
This is more of a notice than an official post.
Unfortunately, I do things like stay in on Friday to watch Sleepless in Seattle on the Oxygen channel (which has an annoying number of tampon commercials even considering its highly female demographic). I buy vegetables and perennials for my garden. I install gravity irrigation systems. I bake cakes, scones, bundts, biscotti. I eat salad. I drink with meals. I read myself to sleep and rise shortly after the summer sun which rises, like a communist laborer, unbelievably early.
The fact that this has turned out to not be the "summer of tom" and has had nothing close to a Tom-a-palooza-like event has left me searching for ways to burst out of my increasingly domestic pursuits. This search has taken me to a new world which involves my consideration of habitation in the community of online dating. Is that what they call it? The eharmonies, and matchdotcoms. My sister has been unsettlingly supportive of this potential venture. Her friends have had a lot of fun meeting people in Chicago, New York, Miami, Los Angeles. Surely her little brother, me, would have some fun in Eugene, right?
Despite having ruined any street cred I may have accumulated by writing this pathetic post, I'm going to sleep on it for a couple days. If I decide not to pursue this relatively humiliating attempt at social liberation, please disregard this post. If I do, however, try my hand at this, I'll let you know about all of my failed attempts at fulfilling my young adult obligations. I hope you laugh at me along the way because I know that servers and bartenders all across Eugvegas will most certainly be ROTFGLing.
Wish me luck?
A 26 year-old in a mysterious place, thousands of miles away from whatever roots he may have dropped around the world ought to feel unbearably liberated. Moving out of the sister's condo, away from the mother's homemade meals to a place where belligerence need not be hidden and crass comments need not be suppressed. I should be rising like a freakin' phoenix out of a bundle of social obligation and familial restraints, right? I should be the last one at the bar, dancing on the table, to the ABBA song that's supposed to be dissuading me from staying at said bar let alone dancing on the table. I should be skipping showers, sleeping in till mid afternoon (if I get out of bed at all), riding motorcycles, drinking martinis, eating steaks, throwing rocks at cars and cyclists that get in my way because I'm out on a mission of unprecedented fun via self destruction.
Unfortunately, I do things like stay in on Friday to watch Sleepless in Seattle on the Oxygen channel (which has an annoying number of tampon commercials even considering its highly female demographic). I buy vegetables and perennials for my garden. I install gravity irrigation systems. I bake cakes, scones, bundts, biscotti. I eat salad. I drink with meals. I read myself to sleep and rise shortly after the summer sun which rises, like a communist laborer, unbelievably early.
The fact that this has turned out to not be the "summer of tom" and has had nothing close to a Tom-a-palooza-like event has left me searching for ways to burst out of my increasingly domestic pursuits. This search has taken me to a new world which involves my consideration of habitation in the community of online dating. Is that what they call it? The eharmonies, and matchdotcoms. My sister has been unsettlingly supportive of this potential venture. Her friends have had a lot of fun meeting people in Chicago, New York, Miami, Los Angeles. Surely her little brother, me, would have some fun in Eugene, right?
Despite having ruined any street cred I may have accumulated by writing this pathetic post, I'm going to sleep on it for a couple days. If I decide not to pursue this relatively humiliating attempt at social liberation, please disregard this post. If I do, however, try my hand at this, I'll let you know about all of my failed attempts at fulfilling my young adult obligations. I hope you laugh at me along the way because I know that servers and bartenders all across Eugvegas will most certainly be ROTFGLing.
Wish me luck?
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