Christmas!

Today was a good day. I thought of baby Jessup in the Mangold, surrounded by camels.

BEARS PLAYING HOCKEY:

Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

With some free time I had during the work day, I logged on to the world wide web and signed in to the social networking site, facebook. I had twelve notifications, mainly of people commenting on photos that had been posted, or writing something on my wall regarding the upcoming Thanksgiving break. One, however, was a friend request from someone whose name I did not recognize, whose face was a blurred mask of lights and background movement, and with whom I had no mutual friends. I denied his online friendship and then listened to "Freedom '90" by George Michael on YouTube because I do not personally own the song.

Creeper.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008

I turned on the radio in my car early this afternoon and heard Katy Perry's "Kissed a Girl" coming through the speakers of my Honda Civic's standard music player. Its catchy hook, the infectious chorus, and the descriptive terms used to describe this unknown woman's lip balm played until it was over. The radio disc jockey made some unfunny comment about perceived lesbianism and then the chatter segued into a commercial for used cars. I continued driving and listening to an annoying, high-pitched voice hock pre-owned automobiles. What troubled me more than anything was the fact that I had accomplished the same feat as Ms. Perry and here she is making millions off of it. I parked my car in the lot and began thinking about writing a song just like hers.

Been there, done that.

Jazz

Jazz

A friend of mine called me up for drinks at a nearby pretentious bar and I obliged. We sat down next to a 400 pound man with a fedora who looked an awful lot like Ving Rhames. He asked his entourage, "Hey these guys with you?!" They nodded yes. Then, he outstretched his hand and introduced himself as Jazz.

Jazz.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

I picked up today's newspaper as I walked out of the front door to my building and began the quick stroll to my office. "Judge Orders Release of 5 Guantanamo Detainees" the headline read, but I didn't care. I stepped outside and the blustery cold hit my exposed face like an open-palmed slap, but I didn't care. I folded the paper under my arm and watched a man with a bushy salt-and-pepper moustache drink hot chocolate. His moustache absorbed any errant drips that came out of the lid. Wow, I thought, what an easy, hassle-free way to keep liquid from spilling on your shirt. I then entered my office building and sat down, rubbing my moustache-free face to get warm.

Wanna go for a ride?

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

I fell asleep before I could pen this entry. I wasn't too sure why it had happened; I wasn't tired. I had just come back from the local gymnasium, but I had more energy than I did when I entered. I woke up face down in a magazine. Unfortunately, the magazine was Cosmo. I read about twelve sex tips that would "make him want you." I did not need this information and placed the rag in a recycling bin.

Trash.

Toilet Paper

She's got the right idea.

I had to relieve myself earlier today. Of course, one must always have toilet paper on hand in order to go #2. I took the roll of toilet paper in my hand and asked myself "To steal or not to steal?" I left the roll in the bathroom because that would have been wrong. Especially to the next lad with the mud-butt.