Darling Clementine

Did you guys know that I cannot cook bacon for shit? Or rice? Or omelettes? I can’t even properly cook bacon in the fucking microwave. I don’t even attempt to cook rice anymore. Nombre Uno, because I really don’t like it. Numero Two, if it doesn’t come in a Zatarains box, it ain’t happening. Nummer Trois, not quite sure where I was going with this. Plus, any omelettes I cook would probably induce vomiting, so THERE YOU GO!

If we were ever kidnapped, held in a room and I was forced to cook one of the above to gain our freedom and possibly keep on keeping on… you guys would be some dead bastards. Sorry. I could probably negotiate my way out with sexual favours or something, but you guys are on your own. Sorry, that’s just how it goes. I still love you, though. I give you permission to haunt me until I jump out of a window or something.

Anyway… have some links to some places. You’ll thank me when you’re through peeing in your pants and snotting all over yourself.

• Hyperbole and a Half
  I read back through this blog forever. It induced the aforementioned pants-peeing and I eventually just started forgoing trousers.
• fucking movie reviews (dot com)
  fuck fuck fuckitty fuck
• And last but certainly not least… TURN YOUR SPEAKERS ON
  Aww, they added a stupid ad & that dumbass Facebook crap to the bottom. Oh well, it’s not relevant,

Dudes, it’s fucking hot. Like miserably hot. Like, I’m pretty sure I’m knocking the doors of Hell hot. FOR TWO WEEKS! That’ll be quite enough of that Mother Nature, thank you very much.

Also, I’d like to express my condolences to the families and friends of the North Korean national soccer football team. I’m sorry Portugal got you killed.

(more…)

There was a comment in my SPAM queue asking what my Myspace page was. Motherfuckers, I don’t have that shit. People still use Myspace? Really? People who aren’t gigantic teenage whotes* in love with sparkly, obnoxious things? OK, then. I’m even getting sick of Facebook, so, I don’t know, whatever.

Anyway… what’s up? I actually had something else I was going to post about – then I saw that comment and was slightly amused. Guess I’ll draft up the other one and post it later. Whoopity-doo!

* Yes, whoTes. One person knows what I’m talking about. ha ha!

I would like to make it known that ladybugs perform their own abortions. What? They do. No, I have not been drinking or smoking crack. I just witnessed it with mine own eyes. *sigh*

No, but seriously… their. own. abortions. ha ha! I just saved a ladybug from the pool. While it was crawling around my arm decided that I was the perfect egg host & dropped one on the inside of my wrist. Apparently, it then decided I’m not fit to be a mother and turned around and ATE IT’S OWN EGG. In the process it bit me. I expect to be a super-mutant ladybug by midnight. Of course, it will also be my luck that I’m allergic to ladybug bites and my arm will fall off. FALL THE FUCK OFF.

Also… ENOUGH WITH THE RAIN. Seriously…