The two most recent photos in my flickr feed. I find the juxtaposition kind of funny. I like my life. I love ‘my’ women.
Sometimes girls go gay when drunk. Sometimes gays go girl when drunk.
Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you please.
– Mark Twain, via (Dave T)
Thought I shared this a while ago, but it came up again in reading today:
There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion.
– Francis Bacon
I think I have fulfilled one of my lifelong goals, with this comment I received today:
I know I needed the laugh and believe it or not u r the first one I think of when I think of any comment about my ass!! hard to believe I know
Based on my viewings of LA Ink (hawt women tattooing people) and Satisfaction (australian showtime drama about a brothel), Netflix recommends I watch Murder She Wrote. okay…
I have lived in this apartment for 11 years. And until today, it never occurred to me that the 7-11 around the corner would have Slurpees.
#1 – Nothing is as difficult as you think it is or remember it was.
#2 – You know you’re getting old when you injure yourself peeling an orange.
Observed: A good measure of how badly I need a haircut is just how ridiculous I look when I wake up in the morning.
I took this about a block from my apartment yesterday. I was getting out of the house for a mental break, and thinking that I needed to photograph something for my daily shot. I had just started literally looking around me, when I saw this sign.
Some things never change, in this neighborhood.
Patrick CALDER was born on 08 January 1898 in Ashgrove, Elgin, Morayshire, Scotland, died on 08 August 1918 in France at age 20, and was buried in 1918 in Pon-Du-Hem Military Cemetery, La Gorgue, Nord, France. The cause of his death was Killed in action- WWI.
I think the buses, they hate me. There was my previous run-in, out in Bethesda, with a mini Ride-on. (I’ll add a link to the story, as soon as my website stops being dead. Update: Done.) Today I was on the 36 bus up to Wisconsin Avenue, when, as we attempted to turn onto the circle at Foggy Bottom, we were sideswiped by a tractor trailer. It was at the same time scary and morbidly interesting. Certainly, an object three times the size of my apartment closely approaching you at any speed is enough to make you nervous. And when it literally rocks your own multi-ton vehicle like it was nothing… well, I got off the bus pretty fast. Felt almost sorry for the driver, who looked hopelessly innocent and completely lost, and just sat dazed in the front seat. But… you know… not sad enough that I was gonna wait around with him until the cops arrived. Still… it’s interesting seeing the giants of the metropolitan road being thrown around so easily.
Man, does it show when I’m not interested in taking pictures. There are many shots from Indri’s recent visit that I absolutely love. I love taking pictures with and of Indri. But while I’ve been to two parties in the past week, neither time did I go to any effort to take pictures. I just wanted to have fun for a change, and not put that distance between myself and the event, that a camera brings. I did pull out my camera both times, but mostly just to snap off a few obligatory shots of people having fun. And the pictures show it. They’re mostly boring. The focus is terrible. Lighting is off. No composition.
Not a big deal. The “big” party was covered by many other people (1) ( 2). Almost looked like paparazzi in there when the cake fell on the floor.
Image by Nguyet Vuong
Happy Birthday to Me.
Happy Birthday to Me.
Happy Birthday Dear Me.
Happy Birthday to Me.
Oh my God… my mom should so hate me for waking her up at this time of night.
And if you’re looking for that perfect gift to bribe me with…
Trust me; It’s more meaningful than it looks:
Marty wakes up at home with a huge hangover.
He forces himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins and a glass of water on the side table. He sits down and sees his clothing in front of him, all clean and pressed.
Marty looks around the room and sees that it is in is in perfect order, spotlessly clean. So is the rest of the house.
He takes the aspirins and notices a note on the table “Honey, breakfast is on the stove. I left early to go shopping. Love you.”
So he goes to the kitchen and sure enough there is a hot breakfast and the morning newspaper.
His son is also at the table, eating. Marty asks, “Son, what happened last night?”
His son says, “Well, you came home after 3 A.M., drunk and delirious. Broke some furniture, puked in the hallway, and gave yourself a black eye when you stumbled into the door.”
Confused, Marty asks, “So, why is everything in order and so clean, and breakfast is on the table waiting for me?”
His son replies, “Oh that! Mom dragged you to the bedroom, and when she tried to take your pants off, you said, “Lady, leave me alone, I’m married!”
A self-induced hangover – $100,
Broken furniture – $200,
Breakfast – $10,
Saying the right thing – priceless.
Recieved by email today:
From: Connor Ryan
Date: Fri Sep 12, 2003 7:16:03 PM US/Eastern
Subject: Best Child Pornography Site
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X-Priority: 3 (Normal)
Content-Type: multipart/mixed; boundary=”———-026302790958569″
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There’s omish people on the subway, the other day.
While picking up my glasses in Pentagon City, the former Secretary of State walked up behind me.
My laptop is still somewhere over idaho and not working.
I got a letter from an aquaintance from high school telling me how God is opening up for his band and wants his autograph.
And the only female that’s slept with me in months drinks out of the toilet bowl.
Sara says this would be a good time to drink. I haven’t yet come up with a reason not to.
But on the way home today, I noticed the bus shelter down the street was scattered for about a block, in big chunks. And parked half up on the curb was someone sitting in a dented Chevette. The looked pretty depressed.
But I can’t be sure if it was because of the accident, or because they were driving a Chevette.
Received: from 188.8.131.52 ([184.108.40.206])
by xxxxxx.sabren.com (8.11.6/8.11.6) with SMTP id h8A9xif29904
for email@example.com; Wed, 10 Sep 2003 05:59:44 -0400
From: “Alexandra” firstname.lastname@example.org
Subject: Cruical email
Date: Wed, 10 Sep 2003 18:59:21 +0600
X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1106
If you were dumb enough to open this email then you will find a WORM has executed itself through your mailbox?
and by the time you read this into your hard-drive. This is PAYBACK for the Virus you disguised in the email you sent?
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Well, now. This email greatly releaved me. No more half-A cup for me.
“no, because in actuality i am not a stalker, but rather the orgasm fairy, here to deliver upon you many many orgasms.”
As you can see from my eloquent and precise use of the American-English language, I am a honored graduate of the New York Educational System.
Wanna see my Regent’s Diploma?
There are just some stupid people in this world.
Just passed a TV report about books, where they were examining book-ends. Those things that hold up books on your shelves.
And the host said she really liked this particular set of bookends because, since they were ceramic, they didn’t involve the killing of trees.
If you can’t figure out why that is so incredibly idiotic, then just shut up and go back to picking the lint from your toes.
“Independence Day” was scheduled to be broadcast tonight.
but for some strange reason they decided to show “Mrs. Doubtfire”
Damn, I’m slow. If I don’t watch it, they are going to revoke my pervert credentials. It took me this long to realise how suggestive the name of my journal-of-the-inane here is.