It is an amateur blogger's duty to not only write about their world, but also create self-important apologies for the lack of updates and then make a lame excuse as if thousands of people could not go on without the daily affirmations of the exalted pajamadeen.
Sorry about the sparseness. Vacation is over and work at Dunder-Mifflin Broadcasting has once again cut into our time together.
Many of you are currently dealing with the hassles of getting through the 85/316 exchange in Gwinnett. A chronic headache is going to get bigger in the next three years before settling back down to annoying. On top of that, county and state officials are going through their "crackdown on speeders in the construction zone" routine in order to make you part with more revenue to fund the whole scene. Yeah, it's a good idea to set speed limits in a construction zone, but I see more people getting mowed down in farmer's market zones than those of the road construction sort. I'd do a crackdown on driving over the AGE of 55 instead.
What happens if you hit a construction worker while obeying speed limits? Showers of cookies?
As of this moment, Bush is opening fresh cans of whoop ass nearing their expiration date on our sworn enemies in Northern Iraq, sometimes politely referred to in the news media as "insurgents." It's about goddamn time. Should have been done years ago, but I understand the politics what with a vocal minority of myopic people constantly slowing things down in the name of saving lives. Pro-Terror-Americans would rather us have a slow and steady drip of 10,000 dead spread over several years, than maybe 50 in a week.
Most of the news accounts suggest that Bush is merely trying to shore up his poll numbers. Of course. Here's a president who has always relied on polls and the media to guide him as he seeks re-election in 2008.
Maybe we really should wait until Disneyland blows up before we judge these kind-hearted peasants in the Middle East.
Waffle House now accepts credit cards, and it's great news for people like myself who enjoy haggling with greasy spoon waitresses at 3am over the legalities of minimum charge amounts and paying 16.9% APR on bacon. I just may use my good credit rating to rent out an entire Waffle House for myself for an entire day. Ideally, that is why people go to Waffle House. Anonymity. You can smother your scattered head with a hat, sit in the corner, eat, sleep, and leave without a trace. No one there gives a shit. Waffle House is like a good hooer.
The McPhee girl is now my wallpaper on my laptop because I like her and I'd like her on my lap.
This is one unbelievably sexy girl. I want to rub her shoulders slowly for about 10 minutes before I get bored or tit. Whether her talents are artificially enhanced by the surrounding contestants, such as the Jim Nabors-inspired sounds of Kevin Covais, remains to be seen.
Stevie Wonder Night was a disaster this week. Stevie Wonder hasn't written a good song since 1980 and most of the cool ones are written in the key of 70s urban unrest.
Randy: "Yo dawg, you know what I like about you? You really care about inner city poverty."
The only saving grace was watching Taylor Hicks, upon meeting Stevie, extend his soon-to-be-left-unshaken hand toward the oblivious Mr. Wonder. Check your Tivo. It's a hoot.