It’s contagious.
If you know me, you know I love the library. I’m totally at peace there.
Yes, even with the creepy guy touching himself. Yes, even with the sour smelling homeless.
I like to walk around and see what title/cover calls to me. Today a book spine spoke to me in a voice gritty with lust. Pulled it from the shelf I did, gave it a peek and noticed it was authored by the same person who wrote The Exorcist. I’m only one chapter into Dimiter and I gotta say my system for choosing literature isn’t foolproof but it works for me.
I get back from lunch and a lady I work with asks about the library. You know how people say “don’t get me started”? This is one of those topics where you really don’t want to get me started. Coz I get started!
I allow her to login under my account on the Houston library system, so she could check it out and all. Not thinking about it fully, mind you.
She notices my Hold list which included titles from each of Dawkins and Hitchens, among others.
So not only did I infect someone with the library bug today, but I also planted a seed of another kind.
Not bad.
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
You ever move a full bucket? Full of water, full of feed, full of whatever – you’re focusing on the wrong part of the story.
You get about halfway to your destination and you feel a slight slip. It’s heavy but you got it, you’re cool.
Maybe you recognize the sweat covering your hands. Maybe you don’t. Matters not either way, it’s there.
Fingers stretched, red. Knuckles all white and screaming. You start thinking that you might should put the bucket down for a second. Re-adjust. Move to the other hand.
Nahhh, you say to yourself, you got this. Right? I mean, you don’t need to work smart, you just need to charge forward. Just keep moving and it’ll all be okay.
Consuming yourself in the steps, counting them, always moving forward.
Now, you’d have made it to your destination sooner, and without the painful blisters, if you’d have put the fucking bucket down. Checked it. Checked yourself. Started fresh.
Too bad you didn’t.
The only reason I watch Workaholics.
Hubs loves it. Laughs hysterically.
I don’t get it. It’s okay, I mean I get a chuckle or two. It’s just a little too guy-humor for me. I dunno.
You know what I do know? It has its benefits.
The guys are smoking ass hawt.
Blake Anderson
Who would think that under this …
Was really this ???
Anders Holm
Adam DeVine
Yes, yes Adam DeVine is wearing pantyhose. Did you notice how I was able to sneak Blake in each picture? Even with all the smoking hotness, the hottest of hottest is his cute smile.
| Workaholics | Tuesdays at 10:30/9:30c | |||
| Blake’s Striptease | ||||
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That and his tight ass.
Wherein I bitch about traffic. Yes again.
I pay $160 a month in tolls.
I’ll give you all a moment to absorb the magnitude of that. One hundred and sixty American dollars in a longstanding recession that borders on wash out your Ziploc bags and aluminum foil depression.
The tollway has two lanes. An EZ-tag lane, for me, the suckas paying $160 a month. The other being the HOV lane. Meaning two or more persons.
This is where my rant comes in. You should not be allowed to use the HOV lane if you are not removing a licensed driver from traffic congestion. Your 3-month old brat should not give you the liberty of using the HOV lane. Fuck you Mrs. Baby on Board, either pay the price or get your ass in the ugly 8-lane nightmare o’er there to the right.
The law should state two or more licensed drivers. A pox upon the legislators that allow otherwise.
Racist neighbor ruins everything.
First, let’s give out props mkay. You like my new digs? Parajunkee hooked me up and I just love it!
Second, we had a great Halloween. That is, until the racist neighbor made an appearance. He came over with his kid and his skank and immediately went into how he snatched his child from daycare, his 13 month old, because they taught both english and spanish. “Why can’t they teach something else, anything else, like german?”
Now, I’ve never had a need to use german in real life, not a once. Spanish though, spanish would have served me well three times just today.
Before I can pick my jaw from the ground, he takes off. Thank you sweet baby jesus in the manger.
Except the fucker comes back an hour later, even more wasted. I can judge, fuckin-a-right, coz I was drinking strong red wine. Through a straw. So I know about wasted and this mother here …
He teeters around, being an ass, then a few kids come up the drive, all smiles with the promise of scares and premo candy when the racist bastard made an ugly comment about their weight. You are that ugly? That empty? That evil? Bullying children?
Thank you for reminding them that things haven’t changed all that much and to be damned careful because the boogeyman … he does exist.






