I'm convinced that some people talk just for the pleasure of hearing their own voices. Thinking aloud, making odd gestures and noises, pulling movie quotes out of their ass when it's not relevant to the conversation at hand (or any conversation had in the last 2 years), and my personal favorite: asking questions that any conscious living person could figure out on their own should they have half a brain. Such questions include, but are not limited to, "Where's the milk?" and "what happened to my shoes?". One might think these are natural questions to inquire about.........after one has been SEARCHING for these items for quite some time. But when they are asked while your ass is sitting on the couch or while in a part of the house they would not be (say, the bathroom or the driveway), then it causes the listener to naturally fume with rage.

Perhaps your shoes are in the closet where most normal people house their shoes. And just maybe the keys are on the key rack that has been hanging by our door for 2 years. Could it be possible that the milk is in the fucking refrigerator?

Flush it Down, Brown.

My cat likes to drink out of the effing toilet because apparently he does not like his water bowl that I clean and refill with fresh filtered water every freaking day.

Why can't I drink the fresh water either? It's given to me everyday.... but I generally opt for the toilet, too. Rather than taking and running with what is given to me free of charge, I keep seeking out the filth that just makes me rotten inside. Am I conditioned that way? was it learned? I don't know. I need to stop drinking from the toilet.

I have GOT to learn Photoshop!

Thanks to Paul, I do own Photoshop, but dang... I can't work this type of magic yet!! I need to get with the program. Oh and by the way.... does Faith really look THAT bad in the original photo???? Sweet Jesus.

Marketing Geniuses!

So for those of you without the pleasure of receiving my myspace bulletin, here is a gem that I found yesterday: A "Kwik-E-Mart"!! Technically a transformed 7-11 in an (awesome) attempt to promote the upcoming Simpsons movie. There are only 11 of them in the US and one of them is here in Orlando. I just happened to drive by it yesterday and had to turn around for a picture. They sell Buzz Cola, Krusty-Os cereal, pink frosted donuts, and slushies-- sadly, I could not find any Duff Beer. Regardless, how cool is this?

No Grunting Allowed

Somewhere, some place in any gym you go to you will see a sign that explains that loud noises and/or swearing is disruptive to others trying to work out around you. You'd THINK that this was common sense-- who REALLY grunts while they work out?!?!? I mean, besides the creepy bald guy at MY gym... who, despite, the posted "no grunts, swearing, loud noises" allowed sign, continues to make the most offensive noises while he is bench pressing. I swear he is doing it on purpose... nobody makes those sounds uncontrollably.... do they?? and is it a coincidence that he just happens to always be on machine near ME?!? I hate you bald creepy grunting bastard, I hate you!

P.S. I googled creepy gym guy and up came this pic of carrot top.... what a FREAK!

Lookie at what I found!

Just randomly growing in my yard!!! Pink Lillies!!!!

"Hey, snakes were fuckin' demselves long before Adam and Eve showed up, T"

sigh, Paulie... I will miss your insight most of all. R.I.P. Sopranos.