i'm not allowed to push the cart in costco. in fact, it's really better if i don't even stand anywhere near the cart-propelling area 'cause there's no guarantee that i won't grab the handle and RAM it into the dumbass blocking the aisle in front of me. DON'T STOP MOVING WHILE YOU ARE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLE KEEP WALKING OR STAND ASIDE MOTHER FUCKERS. I MEAN IT I WILL KILL YOU ALL WITH THIS COMMERCIAL SIZED BUCKET OF BEEF-A-RONI.
alright i'm done now.
i think that this woman has channelled into my brain: 'My standards of dating have deteriorated rapidly, from "must love the absurdity and avant-guarde nature of Jacques Tati films" to "must have the two P's: Penis and Pulse."' seriously - it's like she's taken the words out of my cerebral cortex and turned them into simple html - black text on a white background as close to oldschool as it gets, kids. ahh come on now. look into those eyes - would i seriously ram someone with a cart? me? nah....
but just the once.
or the twice.
no more than twice, though.
i might have a date on thursday. that's kind of exciting huh? it always worries me when people refer to themselves as geeks. i mean *i* refer to myself as a geek, but i'm the *good* kind of geek, you know? not the bad kind. oh let's not kid - i'm a geek plain and simple. i just have slightly ungeeky packaging. it's false advertising, is what it is. really, it's akin to having inflatable. breasts.
not that i do.
no i'm actually serious this time.
no inflatable breatesses here.
figured out what the movie im writing is
Il y a 8 heures