I’ve seen a lot of the blogs I read using Wordle which makes a work cloud based off your blog URL. Instead of using my blog I used Twitter, as I wanted to use it as my background image there. When I saw the results I nearly fell over laughing. It’s like the Internet really gets me, way more than any of the guys I’ve dated. In fact I’m pretty sure it’s a sign I should marry the Internet, or at least go to second base!
I made the mistake of asking the guys I work with what their dream vehicle would be if money weren’t an option.
I naively hoped to hear they’d have a hybrid car, or convert a vehicle to natural gas in order to help lower their fuel usage.
I’ve never been so wrong.
“I’d have a Ferrari. No wait a jet. Or better yet I could drive my Ferrari onto my jet plane and use both.”
The other guy thought for a minute and then said, “Yeah, that would be cool, but I’d rather live on a tour bus. How great would that be? I could hire someone to drive me around. I’d have everything I needed. But no jet, I’d have a helicopter on top of the bus in case I needed it.”
I was trying to think of a polite way to tell them what idiots they were, when I heard them talking about jumping the tour buses. I changed the subject instead. It’s impossible to argue conservation with a room full of eight-year-old man boys.
I couldn’t find my phone anywhere this morning. I looked for a good twenty minutes and then in a moment of defeat sat down next to Daisy on the couch, where I found her snuggled up with the phone. I think it’s safe to say Daisy is an Apple dog. She never once tried to spoon my Blackberry.
Seeing mom-and-pop shops close are always a little difficult to see, but this particular instance is downright heartbreaking for me. Take Five was my grandma’s favorite place to take her grandchildren.
As a child I spend two weeks out of every summer in Murray with my grandma. No brothers, no parents, just grandmother and granddaughter bonding time. These two weeks were my favorite time of the year. Twelve of those fourteen days were exactly the same: each morning my grandma and I would drive to Take Five for her morning Coke and a milkshake for me. I ordered vanilla every single time. My grandma, bless her heart, tried time and time again to talk me into ordering something more exciting than vanilla, but I always refused. I liked the comfortable feeling of the exact same taste day after day. Vanilla was my safety net.
Since her death I’ve learned that the reassuring flavor vanilla is still great, but sometimes you need to spice things up with another flavor. Last weekend my brother Ben and I went to Take Five for the last time. I ordered my milkshake and this time, just for my grandma, I ordered chocolate, and you know she was right. It was the best fucking milkshake I’ve ever tasted.
My friend Matt is ruining my life. Seriously. I probably see that little man bitch three times a year. I have no idea what he’s doing with his life, yet he knows all about my life since he reads my blog. He’s so familiar with my blog he pointed out which friends I’d forgotten to include in my character section.
To shut Matt up here’s his bio:
I’ve known Matt since 1997. The first time we met he introduced himself and my response was something like, “Why the fuck do I care?” He’s hated me ever since. And by hate I mean he secretly likes me, but insists on giving me shit every time he sees me to retain street credit. His hobbies include biking, wearing chain wallets, and reminding me of every crappy guy I’ve ever dated.
I made the mistake of letting Matt taking our friend Awna for a ride on my scooter last night. He purposely broke it because my night ended like this:
Driving home my scooter just stopped. I called my brother, Ben, and RLO to rescue me. Realizing it was too late, and too dark to fix it properly they loaded up my baby and drove her away.
Obviously I’m blaming this all on Matt. I think it’s the right thing to do, don’t you?
