My Trip to the Agricultural Fair
I have been a jerk lately. Not in real life, but in the comments thingy. I offer no apologies because you don't deserve them, but I will say this: I hurt you because I love you, and also to mask the incalculable pain of being saddled to this heap of misery I call my life. Also, I have tiny, frail hands and six chipped vertebrae, and the Dr. Scholl's corporation is suing me for libel after I made certain claims about the efficacy of their bunion plasters--claims I still maintain are up to 100% accurate.
Meanwhile, that ironing board I told you about last week--the one I was so excited to buy--has scarcely led up to my expectations; I am a top-notch perfomer when it ocmes to my ironing, and I expect the same from my equipment. Heads will roll over this, rest assured. Not that I have time to deal with it now, not with the big baking contest right around the corner. This Saturday. Jesus, it's closer than it seems. So little time, so little time! Oh Christ, what am I gonna do? I've got, what, five days? And I still don't have all my ingredients. Oh God, I can't breathe. Okay, calm down, calm down. It's only a panic attack. Have a shot of bourbon, that'll steady you. All right. Mmm. So good. May as well pour myself a big one. Ice? Nah, fuck ice. We're men here, right? Well, I am, anyway. Mmm. So good. You know what would go great with this? A couple hits of acid and that "'80s Cool Down Mellow-Mix" I made with all those Tracie Chapman and Rick Astley b-sides on it. That shit's the bomb, yo. Seriously, you can joke around and call him Rick Assley all you want, but to me he'll always be Rick Astley, the one and only, a million times fresher than Color Me Badd. Which, you'll admit, is awfully damn fresh.
So, it's funny, but I was watching the news tonight, and there was not a single word mentioned about the big blogging brouhaha going on in the pages of the Spoonbender (and, presumably, many, many, many, other places). All they wanted to talk about was newsy stuff about accidents and trials and summits and stuff. When will this country's major news outlets wake up and start reporting about online bickering? It's not like this is any old bickering, either; this shit is TYPED!
All right, this has been funny enough. Bye.
Meanwhile, that ironing board I told you about last week--the one I was so excited to buy--has scarcely led up to my expectations; I am a top-notch perfomer when it ocmes to my ironing, and I expect the same from my equipment. Heads will roll over this, rest assured. Not that I have time to deal with it now, not with the big baking contest right around the corner. This Saturday. Jesus, it's closer than it seems. So little time, so little time! Oh Christ, what am I gonna do? I've got, what, five days? And I still don't have all my ingredients. Oh God, I can't breathe. Okay, calm down, calm down. It's only a panic attack. Have a shot of bourbon, that'll steady you. All right. Mmm. So good. May as well pour myself a big one. Ice? Nah, fuck ice. We're men here, right? Well, I am, anyway. Mmm. So good. You know what would go great with this? A couple hits of acid and that "'80s Cool Down Mellow-Mix" I made with all those Tracie Chapman and Rick Astley b-sides on it. That shit's the bomb, yo. Seriously, you can joke around and call him Rick Assley all you want, but to me he'll always be Rick Astley, the one and only, a million times fresher than Color Me Badd. Which, you'll admit, is awfully damn fresh.
So, it's funny, but I was watching the news tonight, and there was not a single word mentioned about the big blogging brouhaha going on in the pages of the Spoonbender (and, presumably, many, many, many, other places). All they wanted to talk about was newsy stuff about accidents and trials and summits and stuff. When will this country's major news outlets wake up and start reporting about online bickering? It's not like this is any old bickering, either; this shit is TYPED!
All right, this has been funny enough. Bye.
posted by Rob at
9:25 PM
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