it's friday, and also money day. the combination of these two things makes me happy. more than happy, but it's 4pm on a friday so no fucking way am i going to put enough effort into this sentence to find a better - or even passable - adjective. happy i shall remain.
further proof that i am slowly losing what little masculinity i came here with: the other day when Hethral told me who he works for, i immediately thought "damn! steve madden uses your shit!". thankfully i came to my senses before actually replying with the name of a goddamned fashion designer instead of His Royal Big-Fingeredness John Madden, Lord of the Pigskin.
in other news Posh is importing three coastal girls for the weekend... our appartment is going to get a near-fatal dose of slumber-partyesque girlery (yes that's a word) thanks to Malloreigh, Miesha, and Solaris. with those four together, i may have to run for it... hole myself up in a safehouse (read: lock myself in the computer room) or something. i'm sure i'd be more concerned, but my officemate left his computer on and soothing sounds of The Wizard are lulling me into a complacent end-of-the-workweek stupor. ah Sabbath, is there anything you can't do? sweet, sweet internet radio. the other day a Jethro Tull song came on, and it was like i was right back in some basement out in the mountains with my dad standing there obsessing over his old Akai turntable/cassette combo.
ok i'm rambling pointlessly about my father's records instead of finishing up my (stupid, boring) work. i need to finish up so i can get home and help a certain someone find her studded belt, because she's a big fat emo scenester face
further proof that i am slowly losing what little masculinity i came here with: the other day when Hethral told me who he works for, i immediately thought "damn! steve madden uses your shit!". thankfully i came to my senses before actually replying with the name of a goddamned fashion designer instead of His Royal Big-Fingeredness John Madden, Lord of the Pigskin.
in other news Posh is importing three coastal girls for the weekend... our appartment is going to get a near-fatal dose of slumber-partyesque girlery (yes that's a word) thanks to Malloreigh, Miesha, and Solaris. with those four together, i may have to run for it... hole myself up in a safehouse (read: lock myself in the computer room) or something. i'm sure i'd be more concerned, but my officemate left his computer on and soothing sounds of The Wizard are lulling me into a complacent end-of-the-workweek stupor. ah Sabbath, is there anything you can't do? sweet, sweet internet radio. the other day a Jethro Tull song came on, and it was like i was right back in some basement out in the mountains with my dad standing there obsessing over his old Akai turntable/cassette combo.
ok i'm rambling pointlessly about my father's records instead of finishing up my (stupid, boring) work. i need to finish up so i can get home and help a certain someone find her studded belt, because she's a big fat emo scenester face
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'sitting on a park bench, eying little gurls with bad intent'