Tuesday, April 24, 2007

SRT #40

I spent four hours going 35 miles. So disgusting.

I heard/read a rumor that some trucking union conspired to circle the beltway at exactly 55 mph to ensure heavy traffic so as to bring attention to their anti-illegal immigrant stance. If this is true, I'm voting for whoever screws them over. I can just imagine the clandestine planning taking place in some random warehouse:

Jerk Trucker: How can we make Washington pay attention to us?
Idiot Trucker: Let's quadruple the entire city's commute time!
Fucking Horrible Trucker: Excellent idea! The hatred of thousands will ensure our victory!

Thursday, April 19, 2007

I Knew It!

Crocs are demonic beings sent to our world to destroy us! And people thought I was just being a paranoid anti-bad shoes vigilante. In your FACE!

Plastic clogs disrupt machinery in Swedish hospital

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

SRT #39

I resisted shopping in Georgetown today. This is a triumph.

Sunday, April 15, 2007


Are my priorities a little skewed if, when someone spills beer near/on me, I wipe my $70 shoes onto $200 jeans?

They are my jeans.

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

SRT #38

I keep almost pretending to try to exercise on a regular basis. This farce was supposed to start this morning. Last night I distinctly remember dreaming about just lounging about doing nothing, and when I woke up, I continued on with this theme.

I'll be trying again tomorrow morning. Let's see what happens.

Thursday, April 05, 2007


I swear I used to be funny. I generally remember laughter ensuing at my words, not necessarily here, but in life in general.* My banter is weak, and the sarcasm is fading. There must be some sort of pill I can take to up my levels. When did I get this boring? Could it be my lack of excessive drinking? Maybe I've just been thinking too hard? The fact that I'm writing about this does support that possibility. If I can just start binge drinking and stop thinking, maybe I can get the funny back? Can I pull an Old School and join/start a local sorority? That could do the trick. Surrounding myself with vapid little things and immersing myself in self-destructive behavior could do wonders for future creativity. As long as I'm throwing up in self-disgust, I can pass it off as bulimia and might have a chance of getting in.

Maybe I'm just not self-destructive enough. Finding a good, affordable substance to abuse could help me release excess Crazy, with consequently funny results. Sure, I do tend to broadcast a good amount of my Crazy, but there's still a good amount inside, fermenting until it either:
  1. erupts, spewing liquid Crazy on everyone within 50 feet of me, or
  2. presents itself as some sort of disease, perhaps colon cancer.

If only alcoholism wasn't so overdone, I could play that game. Also, the probability of eventually throwing up on my shoes makes me nervous. I guess I could turn to other drugs, but I can be charged as an adult and have no desire to go to prison. Communal showers. Gross.

What if the problem is not Crazy underexposure, but overexposure? Does broadcasting too much deaden others to its full impact? Apparently, this happens with violence, so why not the Crazy? This brings me to another trend I've noticed. Why can't I stop asking rhetorical questions? When did this practice get so out of control? Why CAN'T I STOP?

The last possibility for my boring-ness I've considered is I'm just turning into an actual adult. I hate this game.

* I mean, I can't even come up with a halfway-decent title for a post. They were never stellar to begin with, but really, an emoticon?! Ugh, I'm disgusted with myself. I have to go throw up now.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

SRT #37

Tourists are DEMONS. They should all be shot. What lies underneath that poorly dressed, excessively bright exterior is a demon from the deepest bowels of hell.

* I've linked the above picture to the site I took it from. No need to not give credit where it is due.