me: “…of course i believe in polyamory. i grew up reading archie comics.”
she: “……”
k’s QOTD: On Poly-Archie
Reply
Category Archives: real quick
a mini conversation: flying time.
“it’s a bird! it’s a plane! no! it’s the rest of your life!”
me: …that means its two days before mercury retrograde is over
she: mercury is forever in retrograde. it seems like there are only 10 days in the year when it’s NOT in retro and they have the nerve to be scattered throughout the calendar.
I blame my life on Mercury retrograding.
Spilled coffee? Mercury retrograding.
Getting a divorce? Mercury retrograding.
National disasters? Mercury retrograding.
me: basically! every time you turn around its like:
“dont make any plans!”
she: why do the days drag so? like this whole week?
me: right now my day is hovering.
im eating
im waiting
and im thinking
i could do x y z with my day
OR i could let it fall to the wayside
looking up after reading just one more gossip blog entry and somehow that will be the rest of my life.
she: chile
me: and then oh shit its 5pm?
so that means im exhausted from sitting in this chair all day and have burned off my breakfast that i ate 4 hours ago by furioiusly scrolling thru all my bookmarked tumblr pages?
she: lol
me: how is this my life?
she: Mercury retrograding.
me: foolish question
realquick: nobody here but us chickens
8:30 PM me: so… i just found a feather in the egg carton.
8:31 PM me: thats like getting scrambled eggs w bones in it.
dear ironic hipster beard,
(aka “the brooklyn beard”)
you know who you are. and you know you are itchy.
hi,
that’s not ironic.
that’s gross.
you’ve got 70’s porn crotch on your face.
if you insist on coming into the bars with intentions of scoring some vagina (in your laconic, bored w everything hipster sort of way) it may behoove you to not arrive already wearing one on your chin.
just a thought.
furthermore, pls. take a shower.
thank you,
management
(am i the only one who hates seeing someone who looks like their ex everytime they go out?)
mirror, mirror
so
somedays i wake up and look in the mirror and go
FUCKYEAHLISABONET
and then
otherdays
i feel more like the voodoo priestess from pirates of the caribbean.
(this phenomenon may or may not be in direct relation to the intoxication levels i had achieved the night before.)
… but they can’t buy you dinner
bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
if vibrators could tell jokes
i probably wouldn’t mind being single.
i out “bougie”* you
please disinfect your poles
…the lounge was chic enough affair.
but oh my,
the clientele
not. ideal.
to put it mildly–
i should never be placed in a socialization competition with a stripper.
*”bourgie” as a made up spelling doesn’t work for me.
damn.
i’m a jerk.
real quick: elastic lady pants
denim with no type of added stretch should be outlawed – as it is the fabric of the devil.
that is all.
california dreams
Growing up in the 80’s & 90’s tv propaganda seemed to make California the best place to be. The sky was always blue, the sun was always shining, and at any point in time you could interact with really cheezy computer animated graphics.
Nothing bad ever happened between you and your completely PC and racially diverse group of friends that couldn’t be resolved with 28 minutes and a bad pop song.
…and spandex and flannel.
… doesn’t that just make you want to buy a ticket?
( in the time that i did watch this show i figure 80% of the time the black dude was shirtless or sleeveless. )
hi*kaliber 