Well, this isn't working for me.
I had written a whole blog and snickered to myself because it was just that funny and it had the story about how a Canadian coin had gotten in the dashboard-lighter-plug and blew the fuses and the satelight radio wouldn't work and then the Roommate wouldn't let me talk unless I "sang it" for 5 whole miles. But the blogger gods are spiteful and ate the whole funnier-than-shit post just to make me mad. Well SCORE A POINT FOR THE BLOGGER GODS, CAUSE I'M LIVID.
Just saying.
So let's not waste anymore of MY time (ie: H&K's time*) retelling funny stories about gayness and describing how Our Rusty got a spincterine spa day compliments of Seattle Parks and Recreation during Pride. And let's forget all about long hairs in the 5 Spot eggs, Baby Jesus being locked in the hot car all day and certain females licking certain nekked gay men's chests. Oh yes, let's just skip all that and not bother the spiteful Blogger Gods with any of that boring blogable bullshit, even if us humans think it might get a chuckle out of someone. Just go ahead and eat the goddamn post, I hope it gives you diarrhea. I truly do.
I'm going to go home (early), pour myself a gallon or two of wine and see if my mood gets any better. If it does I may just try to recreate the magic that should have been today's post....but if I were you I wouldn't count on it.
*Think it's any coincidence that my blog only gets "eaten" when I try to post on company time?
4 comments:
Thank you sussan, you satisfied my dayly requirement of blogg. Mmm good blogg Ooo.
Over the weekend the roommate was preparing for the ride home with you from Seatown. He was afraid that he would have to listen to "I'm just saying, and Popeyes" the entire ride back. I'm glad he had you singing instead. Way the think outside the box roommate! I'm surre that ketp him amused.
When he picked me up in Seattle I proceeded to tell the same stories three, maybe four times in a row before I passed out---to his glee, no doubt. He especially liked the flourless peanut butter cookie recepie I told him about nearly a dozen times.
Makes you kinda wonder why he's still "the Roommate" and not "the former Roommate", doesn't it?
Two gallons of wine - that could run into some spendiness, if it's not the kind in a box.
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