I like to move it, move it
This post has no real purpose, other than to provide a fresh forum for the ladies to openly discuss their weekend plans.
So let's just make a short list of all the shit that is going wrong while I'm trying to pack for traveling:
Laptop breakage. (I was going to buy a new one after returning from Africa. I only needed it to last another month, which, as you can see, did not happen.)
Bike breakage. (Why would my bicycle not break, two days before I planned to ship it to Los Angeles?)
Bike non-sale-age. (Perhaps related to breakage.)
Bed frame waste-age. (I couldn't find anyone to purchase my old bed frame, and it doesn't fit in the overhead compartment, so I just put it out on the street for someone to take. It felt a bit like I was making a donation, but mostly like I was littering.)
Malaria medicine overprice-age. (I will get bitten by bird-like bugs and die before I allow myself to be price-gouged by those greedy druglords.)
And what happened to all the wine that I was storing in this bottle? How did that disappear?
So let's just make a short list of all the shit that is going wrong while I'm trying to pack for traveling:
Laptop breakage. (I was going to buy a new one after returning from Africa. I only needed it to last another month, which, as you can see, did not happen.)
Bike breakage. (Why would my bicycle not break, two days before I planned to ship it to Los Angeles?)
Bike non-sale-age. (Perhaps related to breakage.)
Bed frame waste-age. (I couldn't find anyone to purchase my old bed frame, and it doesn't fit in the overhead compartment, so I just put it out on the street for someone to take. It felt a bit like I was making a donation, but mostly like I was littering.)
Malaria medicine overprice-age. (I will get bitten by bird-like bugs and die before I allow myself to be price-gouged by those greedy druglords.)
And what happened to all the wine that I was storing in this bottle? How did that disappear?
Labels: crank shafted, do it to me again Dell, i blog about furniture
posted by Matt Oliver at 8:17 PM
23 Comments:
My Twin, where do you think we should go to lunch? I'm just so bored with our regular options.
I too am bored. Bored bored bored. Maybe we should try the pub? I wonder if Pat has any suggestions? He just works down the street on Wilshire at Eye Exam 2000...
I know what you are thinking - "just an excuse to call Pat."
Pat really is a catch. You two are adorable. But don't think I didn't notice that you suggested the pub, an establishment that serves "spotted dick", in the same parargraph you mentioned Pat. Naughty, naughty.
We need to go to the bank and deposit our checks, don't forget. Al fresco dining at The 'Donald?
Pat is the best. He is just so, so, .... words can't describe. I love that man. I love the way he frames faces (pun intended); his affinity for sad love songs; the way he gently encourages a person to try contact lenses for the first time - "See, I'm wearing them too. It's easy." And despite his constant interaction with customers (hot women included), I am totally secure. He makes me feel that way. I may ask Pat if he wants to come to The Donald with us. You don't mind right?
Oh my god, Pat just sent me flowers!!
Look, I didn't want to bring this up because you seem so happy, but I kind of think you're spending too much time with Pat. Don't get me wrong, he's the best, but I haven't seen much of you since you two started dating, and I feel like we don't spend any quality time together.
I think you guys are moving kind of fast, and that it's not too much to ask to have McNuggets with you - just you.
Fine, fine. McNuggs for us.
Speaking of, although we weren't, you know why The Ape is a fool? Because even if he knew, he would not be threatened by my imaginary boyfriend. Half of my life is imaginary, and The Ape is starting not to fit into it.
Ok, more than half.
Here is my life as I see it: I have a twin. There is a lot of sexual innuendo between me and my twin. I am in love with a man named Pat, although my "real" boyfriend is gay, and dead. Also, I am a lawyer.
Ok, to The Donald we go!
My Twin, please stop drinking at work. You have enough trouble concentrating on tasks as it is.
I tend to ramble, whatevever. Can't wait until The Donald's monopoly game starts up again. Maybe Matt and Pat can collect pieces with us. On another note, how are we going to win that Subaru? I forget.
If Matt and Pat collect pieces with us, we will totally win something. Probably the McMansion (if it's not a prize, it should be). Then we'll all move in together and give each other gold stars on the chore chart.
If not the McMansion, we can probably win a free small fries.
I LOVE the chore chart! I loved it then, I love it now. In my world, gold stars were the best, followed by silver, followed by red. Jesus, now I'm starting to think about advent calendars too. Chore charts and advent calendars; group living... We are onto something big, really big.
Allowances will be dependant on the status of the chore chart, and I think it best that I be in charge of your allowance, My Twin, because you have no self control. (Cow hide rug/carcass lying dead on your floor, anyone?) You will have to come into my room between 8-9 on Friday mornings and ask me for it. When I give you the money, I will tell you the things you need to work on during the upcoming week. If you are for some reason not available on Friday between 8-9, you will have to forgo your allowance that week. I'm sorry, those are the rules.
I'm realizing that this is a reference perhaps only MattOliver will understand, so perhaps you should peruse this and then read the above comment again.
http://community.livejournal.com/ohnotheydidnt/10973923.html#cutid1
I did not even open your link. Why? I didn't have to. Oh no I ditnt. I know what that is a reference to... Girls Next Door asking Hugh for their allowance. I assume you are using the reference to allude to the fact that my allowance will be of a similar amount to theirs, and since there are 3 of them, and one of me, well, mine should be 3 times that of say, Holly's.
Oh, that's right. I remember telling that story on one of our oceanside walks, as a parable that you should learn from for your own life.
You're forgetting, however, that there ARE three of you - I still have to give Matt and Pat their allowances. And don't think I enjoy the power I have over the household. No, it's not fun being the only responsible adult, I can tell you that. Do you think I enjoy listening to all of your whining? For the last time, My Twin, you're not getting a horse, Pat, you're not getting the Prada frames, and Matt, I'm not paying for a personal trainer so you can just sit and watch daytime TV on the stationary bikes. It wouldn't kill the three of you to take some initiative now and again, instead of hanging around my room, waiting for your mansion welfare. If you wanted to make yourself useful, you could get mama some Vicodin for her headache. Perhaps then you'd see an increase in your allowance.
Is it odd that in my last days of work here at our fine law firm, that I find myself wanting to steal toilet paper and the like? This came up yesterday as I was sitting in the handicapped stall. Generally I prefer the normal person stall, but it was occupied. I hate it when that happens, don't you? I feel very put upon. Further, the idiot in the normal person stall was taking FOREVER, which I thought was rude. When you hear someone else come into the bathroom, you should hurry up and leave. Group bathrooms are weird to begin with, so everyone should do their part to make them as private as possible by getting the hell out of there when someone else comes in. And, in this instance, there was no excuse for it. The woman in the normal stall wasn't even using the stall in the way it was intended. How do I know? Because her feet were facing the wrong direction. How do I know? Because I looked god damnit. I looked because I wanted to make sure that it wasn't you in the next stall because it is fucked up enough that one engage in bathroom activities with strangers, but with my own twin, I think not. Anyway, I have digressed. My point is, I'm sitting there, thinking of stealing some toilet paper while freakshow is in the other stall, and thinking why it is I'd want to do that, when suddenly she leaves and I forget all about it (insert fish face). Until right now that is. Because I just went into the bathroom and I found myself eyeing the air freshener. Weird right?
Do you think we can order Starting Over on netflix???
Her feet wouldn't be facing the wrong direction if...
SHE WAS A MAN.
Well would a man be so bold as to walk into the ladies bathroom?? Unless of course s/he was a she-man!!! Who do you think the she-man is? Norma????
I just checked on Netflix - no Starting Over, the daily life-affirming reality show. Starting Over, the feature film starring people I have no heard of and have no interest in, yes.
There are so many "handsome" (I'm being charitable, here) women in this office, that I hesitate to even guess. Just in my wing of the office alone there are 3 or 4 "women" that match that description. And that's not even taking into account the vagrants that often wander into the office in search of legal representation after their shopping carts were rounded up by Ralph's or Albertson's security.
I can't hardly believe (can hardly believe? - that always confuses me) that the show was canceled. So many people need to start over. I need to start over. Oooh, just had a good idea for a new show - "Starting over with Farrah Golliver".
Remember last night when we were talking about Pat's and my trailer home but how Pat has the emotional and mental capacity of a mansion? That was really beautiful.
have you looked up Andi Page yet?
That was beautiful. Poetic, even. Especially when contrasted with the Ape, who has the emotional and mental capacity of a trailer. A haiku:
Your mind is double-wide
my heart so full
never again with that Ape.
But the best part was that my other guests had no clue as to the identity of Pat Golliver, and assumed we were out of our minds. Not that that's an incorrect assumption most of the time, but this time, we were sort of making sense. In our own, special way.
You are so next level it is ridiculous.
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