Unlikable. Thursday, May 28, 2009Christ, I've restarted this about 15 times already tonight. My original topic idea did nothing but cause me to want to sputter and be indignant yet be entirely incapable of explaining in any rational matter about why I hate it so. The topic: corporate naming rights to sports arenas.
God, I just hate it. It smacks of crass american commercialism, where is the history and love of traditional park names? The name Progressive Field makes me annoyed beyond belief, Quicken Loans Arena? WTF? Don't worry my hate extends to the Tostitos Bowl and it's ilk.
Right, so that is the best I can do to explain it. I'm lacking the written skills today to do better but I felt I should give it a shot. It's crap, I know. I'm sorry.
I discoverd a new sport recently though, and considering my penchant for rolling down stupidly steep hills and my love of cheese I think I would excel at it: Cheese Rolling. AWESOME:
Kilter Tuesday, May 12, 2009Woah, that last entry was more than a bit incoherent. Unfortunately I was not drinking so I can't even blame it on that. Rather I think it was pure distraction from trying to watch TV while write.
This entry will, unfortunately not be filled with pithy transitions or even one thread to tie all the elements together instead I'm probably going to be listing and bunch of random shit that has been running through my head.
"Purity Balls" are hilarious. The weird fetishization of female virginity aside it's the inclusion of the word "balls" that makes me giggle. Balls are always funny. ALWAYS. Even more so when used in conjunction with the whole sexual bent of a virginity promise.
While we are in a sexual state of mind, I've said it before and I'll say it again...I need a date. I've even checked out the online sites and it's stagnant water. What the hell is up with guys who don't like women who are assertive or bold? Clearly, this dame isn't any sort of wallflower.
My bottom is already killing me from tonight's workout. Tomorrow and Thursday are probably going to be pure hell.
It's warm out and therefore all I want to do is drink beer. Cold, delicious beer.
I've decided to use the money from the accident to pay off part of my credit card. I've been slowly chipping away at my sort of smallish balance I've been carrying, this will help me put a decent dent in it. I have weird feelings about it because I feel like I should be getting the car fixed but it's an older car so why should I care if the paint is peeling off the left corner of the back bumper? It isn't like the front bumper isn't losing a good portion of it's paint already, so what is up with the conflicted feelings?
I hate all the clothes in my closet.
Scraps of paper Wednesday, May 06, 2009The other day while looking for someone in my high school year book, I came across some papers that had been torn out of a notebook. On these pieces of paper were a few journal entries from my senior english class.
I was in an AP Class, there was only one and we'd all been together since we were sophomores in high school. For some reason this afforded us some latitude in our general behavior in class, resembling a college course rather than a high school one.
Every class period we were supposed to write in a journal, my friend and I exchanged them with each other and often wrote for the other. He and I had been friends since grade school, I remember the first time I saw him. I was new in school (with a very thick southern accent) and he was carrying the plant for our classroom for the opening mass. I wanted to carry that damn plant and therefor instantly made it my mission to make his life hell. It didn't hurt that I thought he was cute. Ah, childhood you hate the ones you like.
So back to the papers, his journal entries are hilarious. And completely NC-17. I vaguely remember my entries to him and they were just as naughty. We were the personification of Catholic school kids with only sex on the brain.
I feel completely paranoid about sharing one of his entries, I somehow feel uncomfortable about it. I'm sure you all would not find them as hilarious as he or I would, as I read them I can hear him in my head and it makes me smile.