The worst part about typing in bed with a lap top, is all the heat emanating from said device causing my belly button to sweat. I love everything about having a laptop except for the immense heat it puts off. If I'm reclined, it's a sweaty belly. If I am sitting flat, it's a blazing crotch. The unpleasantness never ends. But oh, how I dislike sitting in a chair tied to an over sized desktop.
I find being more blind in my right eye than my left to be annoying at best. In fact, I might just go so far as to say that I hate my right eye a little bit. Whenever it's dark out and I am looking at any light producing object, it is always slightly blurred. That, due to righty. If I close my lefty, It is sort of like looking at three of the same thing, or one distinct thing with a blurry colored line connecting it to a slightly faded same thing. I can't imagine that made any sense to anyone but me. Or someone else with an equally pitiful eye.
I found today that hammering a carpenter nail into a cinder block wall usually results in a bent nail, and a failed attempt to hang whatever I was attempting to hang. Also, ironically enough, I discovered for the first time that there is no such thing as a carpender. Who knew there was a "t" in there? The ironic part was learning that from a guy from Idaho who uses the word "fetch" on a regular basis and has likely never pronounced "mountain" using proper phonetics in his life. Mao-un, in case you were wondering.
Lastly, this evening Colin and I dropped by Jamba Juice so that I could indulge in a Pink Star. Best flavor ever. It's a secret one. As we were exiting, there was this guy sitting outside talking on the phone. Right when we walked out he said, "Yeah, we're gonna hang out with some chicks. But we need one more bro, dude." I couldn't believe my good fortune. I mean...we constantly make fun of these guys, and to actually hear such a stereotypical thing smoothly glide its way out of his mouth...priceless. It completely validated a month's worth of mockery. I got to the car, which was about 8 feet away from him, and just laughed. He knew it. Nothing feels better than embarrassing a bro.
And nothing feels worse than a belly/crotch combo inferno.
Damn you laptop.
3 comments:
what if you are a perfect stereotype to someone else? put that in your skinny pants cynical pipe and smoke it.
Thank you Jim Rome.
who is that even?
Post a Comment