Ephemerally Yours

Why do I need a subject? On peut lire la texte complete au-dessus.

I don't want to do this test. I hate talking about existantialisme et les romanciers de la condition humaine. Sartre et ses petits amis peut aller ses faire foutre. I would much rather be trying to start an IV on a heroin addicted, obese, geriatric who has blown all of their veins from drug injections and has to resort to ingesting the heroine through their eyes to get high. Je preferais essuyer l'arse d'un veillard, qu'ecriver sur l'absurdite. Putain.

What goes around comes around.

I was driving down the interstate on my way to school when I found myself right behind a dump-truck throwing dirt and rocks at me. Even though I have a super hard, diamond-like windshield, I decided to speed up and pass the truck so I could stop flinching every time I saw mud fall out of the truck, because, you know, the rocks hit me in the face every time. While passing the truck I glanced at the side to read the company's logo..."Stericycle." Yeah... it wasn't mud. It was poop. This truck was throwing poop at my car. I like to think it was Karma getting me back for farting so much around Edward. I mean, I should really get up and go to another room, but who wants to do that? Especially when your poots smell like fresh flowers.

Annoyed.

Make it so that if I cook spaghetti and don't clean the stirring spoon after five minutes it will be permanently stained orange. That also applies to the tupperware in which the leftovers are stored.

There is a season, turn, turn, turn.

I got my hair cut at Supercuts yesterday. It is a little uneven; and that is okay, because I am very pleased with the overall length. I feel like I should go out, buy a business casual suit, and then conduct a very important meeting.

In other news, I think I broke Edward's (my boyfriend) rice cooker.

Secret never makes friends.

I found a freezer bag in my fridgerator labeled "oatmeal raisin cookies". It was written in my grandmother's handwriting, so I thought she may have slipped it into my fridgerator one day while she was visiting. Well, I was excited. I really like cookies, and oatmeal raisin cookies are my favorite. I immediatly poured a giant glass of milk, so that I could enjoy them thoroughly. Well, I got situated in a big cozy chair pulled my laptop up, and began to write my next post. I opened the freezer bag of cookies. They weren't cookies. It was celery and carrots. Who would label a bag of vegetables as oatmeal cookies? Some heartless person that is for sure. My grandmother was trying to trick me into eating vegetables. Well, I am just not going to. Those "cookies" of hers can stay in the fridge until they rot.

Crying over spilled Pibb.

I opened my fridgerator to remove my new jug of skim milk and some chocolate syrup. I have been dying for chocolate milk, and now I have all of the ingrediants for it, joy! There was a fountain coke inside the fridge. I tipped it over with the bottle of milk. Mr. Pibb went everywhere. It went in every drawer, in every crevice, on all of the glass, all over the back of the fridge, and in every container and box inside the fridge. I have spent the last fourty-five mintues cleaning out the fridge with soap and water. I have taken apart every piece inside. I have used an entire roll of paper towels. My fridge is now clean. This chocolate milk better be damn good.

Don't be a turd.

If a guy gives you a compliment, are you bound by implicit contract to give him your phone number? I walked into exxon and a young gentleman eyed me degradingly. He got behind me in line a gave me a compliment. Then he ordered me to give him my phone number. I told him politely that I had a boyfriend. He looked at me as if I had done something wrong. He smiled and asked again. I said no again. Then he shook his head like a parent scolding a child for lying. It was really disturbing.

I HATE HAM!

Don't you just hate it when you are having a bad day? I always go to the store on a bad day, and always manage to get a shopping cart with a loud, wiggly wheel. Then I lock my keys in my car. Then I fight with a parent. Then I accidentaly bust my head open on a light switch. Then my grandmother comes with sandwiches. Joy! Then she brings out the sandwich meat, ham...my favorite. As always I let her know that I still do love ham. Note to self: Work up the courage to finally tell grandmother that you hate ham after 20 years.

I love pickles.

Why is it that when I ask for extra pickles at Wendy's they only give me three total? This isn't just a one time occurence either. It happens most every time. I really like pickles and I am willing to pay an extra ten cents for more than the preset amount on a Jr. Bacon Chesseburger.

Master Blaster.

Today, for the second time in two consecutive weeks, I have managed to destroy a vacuum. The first time it happened I was vacuuming some dirt I spilled. The back of the vacuum blew off suddenly, with such force, that shards went flying through my living room. The sound of the blast left a ringing in my ear for several hours. I honestly thought that the vacuum had exploded, fire and all, and that I was going to die. I came out alright, and I didn't vacuum again....until today. Today wasn't nearly as bad as last time. I borrowed Edward's vacuum to finish the job. I like his vacuum. It is teal, and very lightweight. Somehow, while vacuuming, it just fell apart. The top separated form the bottom and dust went everywhere. It was really loud. I was unnerved and had to take a seat. After futher inspection, my brother noticed that a very important screw had dissapeared from the vacuum. I am not pointing any fingers, but if the vacuum had been tampered with, you can be sure that I will prosecute to the fullest extent of the law.