February 2012
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Promise this is the last time I use the f-word...
But Facebook sucks mainly because they assume that all people have happy, braggy lives full of travel, doing stuff, buying shit and having GoodTimes (tm) with friends and that they’ll want to have that shit shoved back in their face constantly. But sometimes people and events from the past are like Kleenex in the washing machine. Just saying.
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I just flew in from my dormant Facebook account and boy are my wings charred.
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(SGK - PP + KFC/GUN) + PP * HTML = _________
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A friend is having an 80’s dance party for her birthday. I’m pretty sure I’m going to see a lot of Cyndi Laupers and Madonnas so I think I’ll go as Nancy Reagan.
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Is today talk about prom day? Cool. Our high school called proms “banquets” because they didn’t want to encourage dancing. Totally sounds like I was the class of 1902 but sadly it was just early ’90s Northern Indiana. Which also worked to my advantage in some ways because grunge had finally made it into the flyover states and I was suddenly strangely popular with a small...
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I woke up feeling like the first r in February.
January 2012
These false springs kind of make the first horse of the apocalypse look like My Little Pony.
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I know the mf means “milk fat” but some mornings it seems like my carton is yelling “2% motherfucker!” at me.
I’m not going anywhere. At least until I’m 98 in Tumblr years and St. Peter signs me up for some cloud computing.
Midtumblife Crisis
My Tumblr is about three years old now, which is like 55 in internet years. I feel like I’m fresh out of whimsy, my attempts at wisdom just make me feel like a flaccid d-bag, and I’m too saggy for wet t-shirts. I never really had a niche, but now I’m really just tossing wet noodles against the back of the stove. Like, here, why don’t you look at a picture of late 80’s...
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People who pronounce lilac so it rhymes with warlock.
Someone needs to come up with some Guelph Hippiepoints Credit Card where you can earn points for every curry dinner you have with a hurdy-gurdy player and harpist or bucket of food scraps you drop off for your neighbor’s urban chicken collective, because rug looms made from recycled piano keys don’t grow on trees, you know.
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Once my little brother fed a bunch of worms to a garter snake he found in the backyard and then handed it to me only to have it totally cack them back up into my hand, still alive but partially digested. I was trying to figure out exactly how that Republican Debate made me feel and this is the only thing that pops into mind.
Since I’m not currently using those little fingery things at the ends of my fallopian tubes, I’d like to humbly request that I could use them to pluck Santorum’s eyes out.
I know it’s a little early and random for this, but I was farting around this morning thinking about reincarnation and heaven and all that stuff that kind of sounds kind of nice but uses metaphors that don’t really sit with me, when I got this image of fish flopping out of a stream. I think that’s what consciousness is, just a trout with an super-sized brain experiences when it...
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The sun is a total BAMF →
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We decided to buy some local organic cruelty-free beef. I’m not trying to act like my shit doesn’t stink, but my farts are incredibly biodynamic.
Another life destroyed by the Liberal Elite Media.
Watch six hours of Ken Burns’ “Prohibition” when you’re trying not to drink.
Feel yourself squirm as he zooms the focus into every whiskey glass and beer bubble.
Cry when Carrie Nation smashes all the beautiful old-timey saloon bottles.
Curse your hot cocoa.
I thought I’d avoid an evening of rage by watching some American Idol instead of the Republican debates but then some kid just said “I’m gonna sing that song from Shrek” and launched into “Hallelujah” so I guess I’m just destined to gargle my own bile.
If Gingerich gets elected I hope he’ll be willing to let us have other presidents on the side.
Do you ever lie awake in the middle of the night...
thedisgruntledgradstudent:
No? Just me?
I’m confident that the Higgs Boson particle is 99% god snot.
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It looks like we have finally found a house to move into at the end of March, which is a big relief. It has a tall tree in the back that looks like it eats people, so that’s another bonus.
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So my life is basically a Canadian Tire commercial...
Last night we had drinks with our neighbors, listened to some Bruce Cockburn and realized that four out of five of us were in possession of canoe paddles that had been carved by our own hands. After a few more drinks we all ran to our houses, brought them back and swung them around the living room. We then went stumbled downtown to a keg party a friend was throwing for his vegan restaurant’s...
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If I had a detachable reproductive system, the first thing I would do is smack Rick Santorum in the face with it.
If the Republican presidential candidates were candies, Romney would be a stale Circus Peanut, Ron Paul would be a Jolly Rancher that pulls your tooth out, Huntsman would be an empty box of Milk Duds, Gingerich would be Goobers and Santorum would be a razor blade.