(no subject)
If Toddlers and Tiaras, the love-to-hate pageant documentary on TLC, were a cereal, I would totally eat it. I would eat it non-stop, the sickeningly sweet flakes of processed corn would swirl about to the depths of the bowl, creating a thick, multicolored sludge of diabetes, providing the key to morbid obesity. I would dip spoon after spoon into that vulgar bowl, and suck that grotesque glucose down. The phrases the television elicit me to scream are worse than a baseball game in the bottom of the 9th with 2 outs and loaded bases. These people are fucking NUTS. It's AWESOME. And GROSS. But AWESOME(LY BAD).
Speaking of awesomely bad, Gabe and I started a Hall & Oates cover band called Holland Goats.
Behold our magical album cover. It's a tongue-in-cheek massacre of the songs that everyone loves to wail when they're shitfaced at karaoke done with my I-smoke-too-much voice and Gabe's guitar. We want to get a cheap Casio keyboard to really fucking rail it home, but I'm leaning on investing the funds in a keytar, which would be so, so, so sweetly horrific.
I need another job. I'm barely able to pay my goddam phone bill and it's driving me up the wall. I've applied at a few places via craigslist, but nothing exciting.
Ok. Time for candy.
Speaking of awesomely bad, Gabe and I started a Hall & Oates cover band called Holland Goats.
Behold our magical album cover. It's a tongue-in-cheek massacre of the songs that everyone loves to wail when they're shitfaced at karaoke done with my I-smoke-too-much voice and Gabe's guitar. We want to get a cheap Casio keyboard to really fucking rail it home, but I'm leaning on investing the funds in a keytar, which would be so, so, so sweetly horrific.
I need another job. I'm barely able to pay my goddam phone bill and it's driving me up the wall. I've applied at a few places via craigslist, but nothing exciting.
Ok. Time for candy.