Overthunk

Today between the schooling and the getting schooled, I went looking for vittles to Jack in the Box, in search of the elusive Jumbo Jack with cheese, plain, and two tacos. I'd gone to this particular one before, but I'd forgotten before that I'd sworn to myself that next time, I should go to the OTHER one a couple blocks before the one I've gotten used to going to. Why? you ask. Well, there's one of those homo sapiens oblivians working there. You know the type. The guy who, despite being of low socioeconomic status and considerably less than dreamy looks, flirts with anyone, anywhere, any time. The guy who leans out the drive-thru to impart his philosophies on life and love with you, even though you're just a passing blur framed by a car window. "You didn't KNOW you could substitute mozzarella sticks for fries?!" he cried to me, incredulous. "See that? You learn something new all the time! I can't believe you didn't know that!" &

I see a pink blog and I want it painted green. And in so doing, I FLUSHED AWAY MY BLOGROLL. DAMMIT and CRAPADOO! I'm sorry, blogpals. I shall repair the damage as soon as I am able. Know that, until then, your comments and your words and the time you burned here live on in my grateful heart.

it has been so long oh, how I wanted to come up to your place for some "coffee" but I knew that if I did being a slave to sensuality and my appetites and nothing like self-controlled i would just sit on the couch lean in ask you to kiss that certain place then 20 minutes later be doing the deed your hands touching me all over you know THE deed and the only thing that saves me from such a fate is having a rule so I have a rule no hoeing on the first date not with a long-handled garden tool nor with any other appendages because I think it's fair to make you work just a little harder for your journey to the center of the earth for your rendezvous with the fertile garden of femininity for your returning back to where it's safe and warm

It's also THOR'S DAY!!! So eat up, drink up, and battle valiantly on the way to Valhalla. I was going to insert a nifty Thanksgiving card here for you all, but Blogger is being a jive turkey. So you just have to imagine a lovely card with pumpkins and a cornucopia and stuff on it, that reads: Happy Thanksgiving -- May you always have much for which to be thankful! And underneath that in my Trebuchet hand, I've writ, "If you're reading this, I'm thankful for you!" And thus it is true, though it is only a vision in thy head. So shall it be written, so shall it be done. Happy T-Day to thee and thine, pilgrims!

While making some Thanksgiving fudge (yeah, I know, the Pilgrims didn't have fudge at the first Thanksgiving, but damn you people and your rules), it occurred to me that I do quite a few stupid things to amuse myself. Now, from the past and present, some of these stupid ways ::drumroll:: 1. Dictate to myself the ingredients and processes of making fudge as I am doing them, in survival Spanish, with the heaviest of Texas accents: "Ponga los nway-says en la dool-say. Es mas fa-seel!" :) 2. I used to go out into our backyard and pretend to make educational films, just like the jumpy, projector driven films we saw at school, that unspooled from one 12-foot-in- diameter reel to another as the teacher dozed at the back of the room. Of course, any time the film started to jump or skip or make that PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRMPHHTPRRRPHTMTMMTMTTTTPRRRRRRRR sound, the class noisily complained. If the film snapped in twain, the teacher was ready with a piece of Scotch tape. Try doing THAT wit

Because I attend an exclusive, prestigious, private university for graduate school, I stumble along amongst long shadows stretching along the Serengeti marble halls. Rich, thin, shiny, pretty women meander past me by on their slender, Nordic, giraffean legs, and I am as a squat chimpanzee in their midst -- clever, amusing, far more able to use tools, yet not half as majestic. Sometimes, in classes, we interact. I feel as if I travel in Pigpen's cloud, for my nails are clipped and short, and tiny continents with chipping borders appear on each finger, instead of glossy, manicured, monochromatic squares. My hair, unfashionably frizzy, is self-cut and a few weeks overdue for a $7 color out of a Garnier box. My $12 shoes have about breathed their last, as I shift about the desk in my Wal-Mart pants. Still, maybe opposable thumbs and the ability to throw verbal poo at their mystification at crazy tables-full of statistics is worth being grotty. Sometimes. ----------------- I can't d

Hey folks. This is a nonspecific teaser trailer. Oh, there ARE posts! OH, there are posts! Oh, THERE are posts! Oh, there are POSTS! I've got a couple in the pipe, but they need polishing before I'll let 'em out. So check back in a few. Weeks. No, days. Not hours. Why? 'Cause my little button nose is so far to the grindstone, it's just a skeleton nose, ground down to a fine sharp point. -------------------------------------------- I'm not the one whos so far away w hen I feel the snakebite enter my veins Never did I wanna be here again a nd I don't remember why I came. --- G. Smack (Hey, do you reckon that song's about HEROIN!?!?!?) Yeah. I'm much too tired.