No spicy chicken wraps at the NJ locations? No wraps of any kind?! What kind of shit is that? Lots of questions to start off a post but I need to damn answers! ChickFilA is out of their skull if they think they can take the wraps off the menu. The closest place to get a wrap is in Redding PA, and we are going through there on Monday!
My class in college is filled with some real characters. Every class I get the priviledge of hearing a phrase that I never thought would come out of someone’s mouth. I swear this is real and that I could not make this up. Ill try my best to explain each.
Gotta love trying to learn how to write in APA format, the format we need to use to turn in papers, and this conversation pops up.
THe topic turns from sentence structure to NYC rats.
Student1 “Ive seen rats, none ya’ll seen rats like me! I work at the train station and Ive seen rats. Them n****z huge!”
Student2 “I always thought mice grew up to be rats.”
Conclusion: This is UNreal
Same class, different people.
Student1 “Yo, I heard a story about this woman who got bit by a horse, and she had to get an injection so she didnt turn into a horse herself.”
Class “Yo man, you stupid”
Conclusion: Really? Where did you hear this story and what made you think this was the forum to talk about it?
Almost the end of class
Teacher, “You will be required to write a demonstrative essay.”
Student1, “Now just what the hell is that?”
Student2, “It’s a cross between a demon and monster essay.”
Conclusion: I actually laughed my ass off at that.
Yeah so a couple weeks back, I said I was moving from a mattress on the floor to a mansion in the sky…kinda like the Jeffersons. (if you dont remember the Jefferson’s, stop reading this blog, we have nothing in common)
Either way, my status is still “on the floor”. I happened to buy the bed this past weekend, 10 days after I quoted in the post “What air raid siren?” My new Ikea Dalselv bed is neatly tucked in the southeast corner of my room…still in the box.
I want to stain the bed black and green before assembling it so that it has some sort of character to it. To do that, I need a paintbrush.
Tomorrow I buy a paintbrush! (Now let’s see if I get it assembled tomorrow???)
Ever seen these things? Toe socks that is.
First, let me explain that I hate feet. Always have and always will. They creep me out. Any shape, any size, any style…I hate em. I hate my own feet. I have Flintstone feet. You know, the fat, bulbous ones that push around rock cars for Mr. Slate. Im not sure exactly where this stems from, but I know that sometimes they actually give me chills. If the world were a better place, everyone would have sock feet. You know, no toes, just feet with socks always on.
TOE SOCKS! Who the hell would invent this type of craziness?!? This was kind of a rhetorical question, but I decided to look it up on the web. No information was found on the inventor of toe socks, FYI. Obviously this was someone who decided gloves for your feet were necessary. Someone who could maybe use their toes like fingers, something like a chimp does. Picking things up with your toes is disgusting. Want to know what’s worse than that. Dating a girl for a couple months, then really taking notice to her feet. I mean, let’s be honest here. I didnt even know what her face looked like until a couple of days into us hanging out. These things were gross, like out of Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigalow. The part where Rob Schneider is rubbing lotion on that big ass foot and his fingers are actually able to run between that dude’s toes. Im dry heaving as I write this. Yeah, hers were like that and she thought it funny to pinch me with her finger toes after finding out how much I hated feet. What kind of person torments another like this. Needless to say, I dated her for 9 more months. Definitely dont know what I was thinking on that one.
I digressed big time on that one. What a tangent that was, huh? Anyway, “Who the hell would invent this type of craziness?!?” I am sure that he/she made some money, but I wish that they would have thought about the horror that they caused for people who suffer from Porphyrophobia like me. Porphyrophobia is the fear of feet for those that didnt know.
A person actually sat down and thought, “Man, I wish I could wiggle my toes freely while still wearing my socks.” Then POOF! Toe socks were born. And now they haunt my dreams. Thanks BUTTHOLE!
I alluded to New Years Eve in my first post and I guess I should catch you up to speed with the night’s happenings.
My friend was hosting a party at his warehouse loft in Hoboken so Shawna and I decided this is where we would spend New Years. NYC is too much of hassle with trains, security, lack of public bathrooms and frigid temps. I agree that it is worth the hassle once in your life, but I haven’t reached that point yet.
I shied away from drinks leading up to midnight as the party raged. No particular reason, just didn’t think I wanted to have a hangover the next day. All those good intentions still lead to a hangover that cripples me in the morning. Let me explain. Read more…
Everyone meet Shawna, she is my current ladyfriend, hopefully my last. Actually she is the only girl I have truly dated in the last 4 years and she is absolutely exceptional. An exotic beauty who doesn’t really see how beautiful she is unfortunately. Very passionate and opinionated, stubborn but so sweet.
We have been dating since Aug 7, I just found that out last week when I missed our 6 month anniversary, (oops!) so it is still a rather new relationship.
Back to my 29th year. With my birthday being 3 days after Christmas, I always get screwed out of parties and presents. Then when I do get presents they are wrapped in Christmas paper. 29 times this has happened in some way, shape or form, at least I assume this has been a tradition this long since I can’t remember my first christmas or bday. Read more…
Disappointment is the feeling of dissatisfaction that follows the failure of expectations to manifest, ask defined by Wikipedia. Mine is similar…
Disappointment is defined as coordinating a perfectly heterosexual man-date via text message last night with the best bar tender in NYC to receive the best prepared Bloody Mary in the world, only to walk in on another man behind his bar. I’ve been stood up!
Such is my life. I opened the door to Fanelli’s Cafe in Soho to find a bald guy playing mixologist instead of my friend from Westham England whom I haven’t seen in 3 months. My heart dropped, but I ventured in anyways with the hopes of my man-date showing up. Didnt happen. The tuna salad sandwich is pretty damn good though.
Here is a pic of a barely mediocre BM made too salty by my disappointed tears.
That’s my definition of disappointment.