“Love never blows up and gets killed.”
How I ended a game of 20 questions in 3:
Me: “Is it a man?”
Me: “Is he an actor?”
Me: “Is he still alive?”
Brendang: “Shit…I’m not sure.”
Me: “Gene Wilder.”
Brendang: “You asshole.”
In case anyone still isn’t sure, today’s his birthday.
Herbal tea doesn’t always make me feel better, but it’s never made me feel worse. Watching the pixelated heart on my mug turn from black to red as I pour the water in? THAT always makes me feel a little better.
(and fuck you, dotted red underline, “pixelated” is so a word.)
Just got a brand spankin’ new desktop computer with whatever-the-fuck number of Windows they’re on now. I wonder how long it’ll take for my Grandparents to make the text resolution (or whatever you call it) so large that I can barely use it?
So I just talked to my the woman who named me Chookus, on FACEBOOK for fuck’s sake, for the first time in years (I’m still not quite comfortable calling her “Mom” again yet). She congratulated me on my promotion, then on my spelling/punctuation/grammar.
The sound of someone jerking off is unmistakable.
Bonesaw is ready for Bluths.