"Everyone's in their own personal coma
You have endless ways you can commit suicide without DYING dying.
... Can you feel this?"
from Diary by Chuck Palahniuk
A little morbid, but overall, the novel was fantastic. Isn't everything by Palahniuk?
Alrighty God, the joke's over. The gig is up. It was funny at first, but come on now, this is MASSACHUSETTS: it shouldn't be circling 95 degrees with extreme humidity on a daily basis. Did the air conditioner company managers pray extra hard this month or what? I have turned into a face-sweat-er (not to be confused with a face sweater, which might be the proper attire for a bank hold-up); I suppose this would be handy if I were in one of those Gatorade commericials where people drip funky colored bodily fluids, but I'm in my hot apartment. And it sucks.
Speaking of commercials, I'm one step closer to the edge regarding the KY Warming products series. Have you seen these? A housewife is sitting next to a man, who I suppose is understood to be her husband, and she begins talking to the camera about this NEW! KY Warming Jelly or NEW! Warming Massage Oil. She describes the product, then gives her hubby a knowing look, and he raises an eyebrow and gives a sly smile.
I hate these people.
I know: they are actors. They probably hate each other when the camera stops rolling. But it's the whole scenario, the whole set-up, if you will. If I was paranoid, I would swear they are taunting me with their daily sex romps incorporating the entire KY line. I'm so close to screaming at my television, "For Christ sakes, stop talking about it and just DO IT!!" I hate them. Them, and that assinine Vehix woman who climbs into the back seat of the mini-van and spins herself around, chimp-like, to produce a swivel-like view of the car's interior. Maybe the KY and Vehix people can get together and create one fused commercial: some kind of surrealist montage where the swivel woman continues her monkey dance while the happy couple sprays massage oil all over the car's back windows.
Anyway... I picked up my pictures from my past month's adventures, and strangely enough, half of my negatives were "missing." Apparently, they were wrecked or lost or something. I was disappointed, as I was looking forward to seeing the pictures... I was also a little worried and tried in vain to remember what was ON those pictures that are now missing. Hmmmmm....
A woman crossed the street in front of me while I was driving and she was wearing white fuzzy slippers. SLIPPERS! At what point in my life will it be okay to wear my slippers in public in the middle of the day? At night, okay-- I mean, it could be a performance artist thing or maybe an escape from a serial killer... but come on, lady: invest in a pair of sneakers! And besides, aren't those fuzzy slippers hot?
I had to play stealth commando in getting out of my apartment today. The man who lives next door is recently retired and has evolved into one of those "trap talkers." You know you have one in your life: someone who immediately starts a lengthy conversation with you upon eye contact and won't let you leave for a good 15, 20 minutes, even if you are carrying a pint of ice cream in the middle of a hot summer's day and interject frequently that you really must be going... That's my neighbor. I don't even know his name, but he accosts me as soon as I go outside, even catching me half-dressed once in my attempt to fetch something quickly out of my car early in the morning. He's not a letch, not a perv, just an older man who is going insane with no one to talk with during the day. (I'm not sure where his wife is most of the time). He was doing something outside with his trashbarrel this afternoon, but luckily I saw him before he saw me and I backtracked into the hallway and waited until the coast was clear before making a mad dash to the car. This approach is not always successful, and I've been caught on many occassions (with subsequently warm dairy products back from the grocery store to prove it). But it was my lucky moment, this time.
Ah... I'm a terrible, awful person. I'm way too self-centered.
Ah, hell- at least I'm not wearing fuzzy slippers on Main Street.
You have endless ways you can commit suicide without DYING dying.
... Can you feel this?"
from Diary by Chuck Palahniuk
A little morbid, but overall, the novel was fantastic. Isn't everything by Palahniuk?
Alrighty God, the joke's over. The gig is up. It was funny at first, but come on now, this is MASSACHUSETTS: it shouldn't be circling 95 degrees with extreme humidity on a daily basis. Did the air conditioner company managers pray extra hard this month or what? I have turned into a face-sweat-er (not to be confused with a face sweater, which might be the proper attire for a bank hold-up); I suppose this would be handy if I were in one of those Gatorade commericials where people drip funky colored bodily fluids, but I'm in my hot apartment. And it sucks.
Speaking of commercials, I'm one step closer to the edge regarding the KY Warming products series. Have you seen these? A housewife is sitting next to a man, who I suppose is understood to be her husband, and she begins talking to the camera about this NEW! KY Warming Jelly or NEW! Warming Massage Oil. She describes the product, then gives her hubby a knowing look, and he raises an eyebrow and gives a sly smile.
I hate these people.
I know: they are actors. They probably hate each other when the camera stops rolling. But it's the whole scenario, the whole set-up, if you will. If I was paranoid, I would swear they are taunting me with their daily sex romps incorporating the entire KY line. I'm so close to screaming at my television, "For Christ sakes, stop talking about it and just DO IT!!" I hate them. Them, and that assinine Vehix woman who climbs into the back seat of the mini-van and spins herself around, chimp-like, to produce a swivel-like view of the car's interior. Maybe the KY and Vehix people can get together and create one fused commercial: some kind of surrealist montage where the swivel woman continues her monkey dance while the happy couple sprays massage oil all over the car's back windows.
Anyway... I picked up my pictures from my past month's adventures, and strangely enough, half of my negatives were "missing." Apparently, they were wrecked or lost or something. I was disappointed, as I was looking forward to seeing the pictures... I was also a little worried and tried in vain to remember what was ON those pictures that are now missing. Hmmmmm....
A woman crossed the street in front of me while I was driving and she was wearing white fuzzy slippers. SLIPPERS! At what point in my life will it be okay to wear my slippers in public in the middle of the day? At night, okay-- I mean, it could be a performance artist thing or maybe an escape from a serial killer... but come on, lady: invest in a pair of sneakers! And besides, aren't those fuzzy slippers hot?
I had to play stealth commando in getting out of my apartment today. The man who lives next door is recently retired and has evolved into one of those "trap talkers." You know you have one in your life: someone who immediately starts a lengthy conversation with you upon eye contact and won't let you leave for a good 15, 20 minutes, even if you are carrying a pint of ice cream in the middle of a hot summer's day and interject frequently that you really must be going... That's my neighbor. I don't even know his name, but he accosts me as soon as I go outside, even catching me half-dressed once in my attempt to fetch something quickly out of my car early in the morning. He's not a letch, not a perv, just an older man who is going insane with no one to talk with during the day. (I'm not sure where his wife is most of the time). He was doing something outside with his trashbarrel this afternoon, but luckily I saw him before he saw me and I backtracked into the hallway and waited until the coast was clear before making a mad dash to the car. This approach is not always successful, and I've been caught on many occassions (with subsequently warm dairy products back from the grocery store to prove it). But it was my lucky moment, this time.
Ah... I'm a terrible, awful person. I'm way too self-centered.
Ah, hell- at least I'm not wearing fuzzy slippers on Main Street.
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Actually, the caption I wrote for the pic was that I was "peering out," but now that I see how it was broken, it does appear that I am PEEing on Emily Dickinson's grave hahahahah