Yesterday, my roommate checked this blog. (Hi Lem!)
I am proud to say that she cracked up. (Yay! Someone thinks I'm funny!)
She was pretty surprised at some of the things she's said. She doesn't do any drugs (aside from caffeine, and we all do that one), but she's forgotten most of these quotes. I believe her comment was, "Jesus, I sound like I'm high, like, all the time.. Did I really say that?"
Yes. Yes, you did. I love you, awesome roommate. Stay hilarious.
Also, this. There are no words.
Also, to my surprise, this thing I came across whilst reading my Livejournal friends list thing. I laughed. So hard. Seriously. Here we go! :D Absolutely un-edited by me. Ohh, I cannot even think what this is gonna do to my Adsense... j-j
Written by Aggybird:
Let me preface this with: my mail guy sucks donkey balls. This is a fact well-established through many hilarious anecdotes. For example, my mail guy seems to play a game with himself. That game is: HOW CAN I SQUISH THIS FRAGILE PACKAGE TO MAKE IT FIT INTO THE BOX? He leaves the key for the wrong package box in my mailbox, leaving me to open an empty box and frown confusedly. He plays other mind games with me, like when he inserts a package that fits through the back of my mailbox, where he distributes the mail, but of such a size that it will not actually leave through the other side, where I retrieve my mail, so I am left tugging futilely on my package, able to grasp it in my hand but not able to take it home with me. Like I said: HILARIOUS.
There is a little old lady who lives up the hill on my tiny country road, and she has the same last name as me. This is not hard, seeing as how a lot of folks share my particular last name. Well, this little old lady, due to the aforementioned donkey-ball sucking mail guy, sometimes gets my mail. She's great about returning it to me.
This is not usually a problem, except when I am expecting STEAMY GAY ROMANCE BY POST. This particular little old lady loves to read romance novels--she gets piles of them and trades them with other little old ladies and she often comes into the library to get more and to say hello. She is a very friendly little old lady. She is also apparently kind of, I don't know, blind? Oblivious? Because WHATEVER THE REASON, she decided that this wrongfully delivered package was actually hers. And she opened it.
And, somehow missing the dedication that Libby wrote to me, SHE READ IT.
READ IT.
DID YOU GET THAT?
I MEAN.
Once she REALIZED what it was ABOUT, surely she would have STOPPED? Surely once the cockbucklers crossed their meatswords she would have flung the book aside in scandalized horror, clutching at her chest and pressing her Life Alert button frantically!
Did she do these things? No. No, she did not. SHE READ IT THROUGH.
And THEN, when she was FINISHED, she decided to knock on my front door and return it to me.
I was like, "Um. UM. I CAN EXPLAIN, PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN, THIS ISN'T WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE, I'M SURE THOSE NICE BOYS WERE JUST CONFUSED," and she was all, "Thank you, this was very good! A bit naughty because it was two fellows, but very good!"
I was then like, "Little neighbor lady, didn't you see the sexy shirtless men on the cover? Wasn't that a clue?" and she was like, "Well, all my books have those on the cover!"
I decided that if the earth would not open up and swallow me like I was silently praying, then I would try to gracefully thank her and retreat into my house. Except then she asked me IF I HAD ANY MORE.
I was so amazed and horrified I could barely speak. She is a LITTLE WHITE HAIRED LADY. And then I realized that someday I would be a little white haired lady reading gay porn, so I gave her Dreamspinner Press' web address, lent her another gay romance book I had, and sent her on her way.
WHAT IS THIS MADNESS. D:
----
In continuing hilarical adventures: has anybody ever done anything they know is totally stupid because they were embarrassed about propriety? Let me tell you a story:
I often bike on a wonderful bike trail near my house. There is nothing I quite like better than whipping down the trail, jamming to my iPod, feeling the sun on my arms and face.
But there is nothing I like less than getting an enormous bug in my mouth.
So, yesterday, as I was biking blithely along, I opened my big, fat mouth and a bug flew inside. Normally, I would just spit it out, rather violently, and make wounded seal noses for about five minutes while I scraped my tongue.
But on this occasion, there was a family biking toward me: mother, father, brother and sister. They all looked adorable in matching helmets. The girl had pink tassels on her handlebars.
And I COULD NOT bring myself to hock up a bug in front of them because one of the top things that I will never, ever do is spit in front of people. I consider it one of my Great Social Taboos and a height of impropriety.
What is a girl with a bug-filled mouth to do?
I biked on, trying to create enough saliva in my mouth to suspend the bug inside so that it did not touch any part of my mouth. And then, cheeks beginning to bulge and eyes wild, I waved to the adorable family as they passed me, in the friendly, cheerful way you do.
Did I spit after that?
No! Are you crazy? I had to wait until they were out of auditory spitting distance because that is just as worse!
Finally, I launched the bug in a rocket of saliva after I rounded a corner in the trail (Heaven help me if more cyclists had been approaching--I might have carried the bug home). And then I realized that I had just biked for two minutes cradling a bug floating in saliva inside my mouth in order to avoid the mortification of spitting in front of people I don't even know.
The sad thing is: I will do this again.
Also, to my surprise, this thing I came across whilst reading my Livejournal friends list thing. I laughed. So hard. Seriously. Here we go! :D Absolutely un-edited by me. Ohh, I cannot even think what this is gonna do to my Adsense... j-j
Written by Aggybird:
Let me preface this with: my mail guy sucks donkey balls. This is a fact well-established through many hilarious anecdotes. For example, my mail guy seems to play a game with himself. That game is: HOW CAN I SQUISH THIS FRAGILE PACKAGE TO MAKE IT FIT INTO THE BOX? He leaves the key for the wrong package box in my mailbox, leaving me to open an empty box and frown confusedly. He plays other mind games with me, like when he inserts a package that fits through the back of my mailbox, where he distributes the mail, but of such a size that it will not actually leave through the other side, where I retrieve my mail, so I am left tugging futilely on my package, able to grasp it in my hand but not able to take it home with me. Like I said: HILARIOUS.
There is a little old lady who lives up the hill on my tiny country road, and she has the same last name as me. This is not hard, seeing as how a lot of folks share my particular last name. Well, this little old lady, due to the aforementioned donkey-ball sucking mail guy, sometimes gets my mail. She's great about returning it to me.
This is not usually a problem, except when I am expecting STEAMY GAY ROMANCE BY POST. This particular little old lady loves to read romance novels--she gets piles of them and trades them with other little old ladies and she often comes into the library to get more and to say hello. She is a very friendly little old lady. She is also apparently kind of, I don't know, blind? Oblivious? Because WHATEVER THE REASON, she decided that this wrongfully delivered package was actually hers. And she opened it.
And, somehow missing the dedication that Libby wrote to me, SHE READ IT.
READ IT.
DID YOU GET THAT?
I MEAN.
Once she REALIZED what it was ABOUT, surely she would have STOPPED? Surely once the cockbucklers crossed their meatswords she would have flung the book aside in scandalized horror, clutching at her chest and pressing her Life Alert button frantically!
Did she do these things? No. No, she did not. SHE READ IT THROUGH.
And THEN, when she was FINISHED, she decided to knock on my front door and return it to me.
I was like, "Um. UM. I CAN EXPLAIN, PLEASE LET ME EXPLAIN, THIS ISN'T WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE, I'M SURE THOSE NICE BOYS WERE JUST CONFUSED," and she was all, "Thank you, this was very good! A bit naughty because it was two fellows, but very good!"
I was then like, "Little neighbor lady, didn't you see the sexy shirtless men on the cover? Wasn't that a clue?" and she was like, "Well, all my books have those on the cover!"
I decided that if the earth would not open up and swallow me like I was silently praying, then I would try to gracefully thank her and retreat into my house. Except then she asked me IF I HAD ANY MORE.
I was so amazed and horrified I could barely speak. She is a LITTLE WHITE HAIRED LADY. And then I realized that someday I would be a little white haired lady reading gay porn, so I gave her Dreamspinner Press' web address, lent her another gay romance book I had, and sent her on her way.
WHAT IS THIS MADNESS. D:
----
In continuing hilarical adventures: has anybody ever done anything they know is totally stupid because they were embarrassed about propriety? Let me tell you a story:
I often bike on a wonderful bike trail near my house. There is nothing I quite like better than whipping down the trail, jamming to my iPod, feeling the sun on my arms and face.
But there is nothing I like less than getting an enormous bug in my mouth.
So, yesterday, as I was biking blithely along, I opened my big, fat mouth and a bug flew inside. Normally, I would just spit it out, rather violently, and make wounded seal noses for about five minutes while I scraped my tongue.
But on this occasion, there was a family biking toward me: mother, father, brother and sister. They all looked adorable in matching helmets. The girl had pink tassels on her handlebars.
And I COULD NOT bring myself to hock up a bug in front of them because one of the top things that I will never, ever do is spit in front of people. I consider it one of my Great Social Taboos and a height of impropriety.
What is a girl with a bug-filled mouth to do?
I biked on, trying to create enough saliva in my mouth to suspend the bug inside so that it did not touch any part of my mouth. And then, cheeks beginning to bulge and eyes wild, I waved to the adorable family as they passed me, in the friendly, cheerful way you do.
Did I spit after that?
No! Are you crazy? I had to wait until they were out of auditory spitting distance because that is just as worse!
Finally, I launched the bug in a rocket of saliva after I rounded a corner in the trail (Heaven help me if more cyclists had been approaching--I might have carried the bug home). And then I realized that I had just biked for two minutes cradling a bug floating in saliva inside my mouth in order to avoid the mortification of spitting in front of people I don't even know.
The sad thing is: I will do this again.
