2003-03-01 - 3:50 p.m.
Your monthly serving of sloppy joes
From Miss-Miami (Submitted by Rachelliz)
Ha ha! I pulled one over on the Internet. This entry was written an hour ago, but just as I pressed "done!" I scrolled up and copied the entry onto my clipboard. Sure enough I got the The page can not be displayed page. Fuck you Internet.
in other news, my stupid prehistoric computer went down on me at work again. not the good way of "going down on me" but the very bad "i'm-going-to-quit-working-on-you kinda of thing."
From Smoog (Submitted by Karen)
No matter how hard I look, it still looks like 'Dairyland' to me. Come, prance through knee-high daisies in Dairyland, spot the jersey cow and win a lifetime's supply of low-fat cottage cheese!
I am writing here and that's a choice I am making. No one is twisting my arm. I am sure as hell not writing here just to fucking write to be a people pleaser. I am writing, because I like to write. It's pretty simple.
From Punchinello (Submitted by Ravenlaw)
Don't you just love it when Diarylanders start their entries "Well, today was pretty boring..." and then have the nerve to go on about that very boring day? Hello! If living that day was so boring then how on earth is it supposed to be interesting in writing? Ok, so some people can make even the most boring of days interesting. These are also the people who are smart enough not say that they're about to talk about a very boring day.
Sorry for being a boring asshole lately. Clearly, I have become Harrison Ford.
I'm no biologist, but I do think that oxygen is high up there on the "things to have if the world ends" list. Maybe not as high as duct tape, but it's up there.
I'm an oxymoron. Minus the oxy.
From Zalitar (Submitted by Kikk)
I am starting to think I might sleep walk or something. Or more precisely I think I play full contact NFL football without pads while I sleep.
Stupid subconscious. What the hell were you thinking? Why on earth would you provide plot when I just wanted porn?
All I really know is that I don't really like teaching high school. I enjoyed working in the bookstore alot more, despite the lower pay and being treated like shit by customers. At least THEY read the material.
the best part of the whole thing is jonny knoxville murmuring without irony ‘i need some help’; here's hoping that help is on the psychoactive drug-giving end of a white coat.
so yesterday, and i'm not making this up, i was told i need to do a number of things with my life. among them:
I wore a single black glove on the drive home, merely because I could not, at forty-five miles an hour, manage to root around on the passenger seat floor for the other glove. So. I'm bad. I'm bad. I know it. And Billie Jean, contrary to popular belief, is not my lover.
Took my cat for a bikini wax. The most disgusting job in the world is being the person who shaves cat's butts.
My friend came up with the notion that if you call yourself "Iron anything" you will become a magnet. (yes, pun intended) So the day I prance around town calling myself Iron Phallis I'm going to make myself a lot of friends. Perhaps he meant a magnet for mockery and contempt, he didn't really elaborate.
Having long sexy legs like mine can make finding jeans more painful than a hot-sauce enema.
Oh, and while we were watching the show on E!, we heard some random noise outside, two or three times. It was hard to explain, but it was kinda deep and long..? I dunno.. but I was firmly convinced it was the Horn of Gondor.
Somebody told me once that Des Moines has this huge goth scene. I can't fucking wait to see that. I bet they go out at night and only tip over the black cows.
Sloppy Joes answer the question, "what if ground beef was sweet?"