My Pretend Arizona Boyfriend: I am so going to kick your ass.
Me: You can't kick my ass. I'm a ninja!
My Pretend Arizona Boyfriend: Ninjas have grace and agility. YOU ARE NOT A NINJA.
Me: What are you talking about? I have cat like reflexes!
My Pretend Arizona Boyfriend: DEAD cat reflexes.
Seriously. WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE STEAMED RICE CAKES, SEATTLE? There are 20,000 Chinese here! WHY NO RICE CAKES?! WHERE ARE THEY?! WHERE?!?
Is there some secret underground steamed rice cake speakeasy I don't know about? Has someone stolen all the old Chinese ladies and is keeping them locked up, forcing them to ferment rice and harvest pandanus leaves?
I cannot survive on donuts alone.
* This post could also be titled "What's a Bitch Gotta Do For Haw Flakes".
This coffee tastes like pencil... I don't even eat pencils, and I know that this coffee tastes like pencil. It is PENCIL-ICIOUS.
Now go on... Share your cry-baby wah-wah problems in the comments. I feel your pain.
I don't know what the hell is going on with me. Five long years of never (hardly ever) getting sick, to a series of colds, and a weeks-long stint of "walking pneumonia".
Which, by the way, is like regular pneumonia, EXCEPT WITH NO RESTING IN NICE HOSPITAL BEDS! Noooooooo... I wouldn't want to go and get a loser infection like regular pneumonia. That's for lazy bastards! I want to still do everything, like go to work, and run errands, and stand upright... except I would like to do those things with a frightening weeze.
WAH! ... Now if you all would baby me, and bring me some pie...
Nothing says "I work in Belltown" like crazy old hobos yelling at me through my office window because he can't pee in the streets, but OH HELL YOU THINK HE WON'T STILL PEE IN THE STREETS?! He will! And in front of my office window.YOU CAN'T KEEP CRAZY OLD HOBO MAN DOWN! HE DESERVES RESPECT!
Ah! I am filled with RESPECT ... No, wait. I don't think that feeling is actually respect. I think that feeling is "yearning for hedge clippers".
In the last couple of months I've put on about 7 WHOLE POUNDS! Enough to put me in my fat pants, or maybe just MUFFIN TOP THE SHIT out my regular pants... Which is so weird, considering my current diet of hot dogs, Halloween candy, and hours and hours of Parking Wars on DVR. (Mmm... Parking Wars.)
Can't imagine what I'm doing wrong.
Me: OH MY GOD! I'm never going outside without long johns on ever again! In my whole life!
Unfortunate Friend of Me: We can walk to the next bus stop and warm up.
Me: No! Walking creates wind! And wind is cold!
Unfortunate Friend of Me: Oh brother...
Me: Stop talking. I'm trying to concentrate on not freezing to death.
So, what's it like being middle aged, you ask? ... Let's take a look at my schedule and see, why don't we?
Wake up, drink coffee MADE BY ME IN MY OWN HOUSE, go to work WITH LUNCH PACKED BY ME, MADE FROM THINGS IN MY OWN HOUSE, come home INSTEAD OF DOING FUN THINGS OUTSIDE OF MY HOUSE, and then GO BACK TO MY HOUSE.
This is a bizarre, and fiscally responsible series of events... Snore! Everything is boring when you're not spending all your money!
Well, what do I have to write about now... Except for my slow deterioration and my new-found fascination with cutting my hair shorter and shorter. (I'm totally not even kidding... I'M NEARLY BALD* ... But, according to every homosexual source - ADORABLE! And homosexual sources are the only ones that count when you're talking about my hair and/or accessories.)
* Pictures to follow!