Hump Day, O, random Brain Dump Day, so comfortingly half-way.
Things:
a) I haven't even mentioned the fact that my kitchen ceiling is actually planning to cave in and bury me under a soggy pile of air conditioner, drywall, duct work and black mold. Ugh. Apparently it's been leaking in there for some time now, and the space between my first and second floors is probably nothing but slush and a great big gaping vortex where all my money goes. Yeah, I have a giant contractor's wet dream on my hands. Pun intended. Screw you, Legionnaire's Disease!
b) We have tickets to Rock the Bells, which should be better known as quite possibly the Most Awesome Hip-Hop Lineup Ever: there shall be a reunion show from A Tribe Called Quest, Nas, Mos Def, Method Man, Redman, MF Doom, Rakim, Sage Francis and a whole slew of assorted kickassitude.
c) Since I am incapable of acting my age to begin with, I'm going to Warped Tour on Sunday in Buttfuckville, FL. This is as opposed to, say, the Orlando show, which I caught last year. The crowd of toothless, beWranglered hillbilly kids should be interesting in a town so small that the nearest "big city" only has like two stoplights. HOORAY FOR CHROMOSOMES AND THOSE CRAZY PRANKS THEY PLAY.
d) I get to see my chica Garnet this weekend, for the first time in like 5 months, and introduce two people endowed with deadly levels of Awesome to each other.
e) Last night, I mailed an envelope containing my own poop to the president. (Did you get one of those pre-printed 'Say Happy Birthday to Dubya! By giving us your money!' cards from the Republican National Committee a while back? With the smarmy "oh we love you Mr. Bush, this is the part where I spew jingoism all over you while keeping it to four lines or less" message inside? And the pre-paid return envelope? Whoring for cash directly from the White House? Yeah, I think that was good enough occasion to disseminate my feces into the postal system.)
f) There seems to be a hurricane headed right for us, but it keeps waffling back and forth between blowin' big and givin' up. I haven't had a good tropical storm since last year, damn it! Bring it on, Bertha! Baby needs a new monsoon.
g) The lights in our office elevator has been burned out for several days now, which means I have been starting my work days with a harrowing ride in a pitch-black coffin with no ventilation. It kind of casts a surreal Tower of Terror light over my mornings. Well, more than just, you know, work does.
h) I have no H.
a) I haven't even mentioned the fact that my kitchen ceiling is actually planning to cave in and bury me under a soggy pile of air conditioner, drywall, duct work and black mold. Ugh. Apparently it's been leaking in there for some time now, and the space between my first and second floors is probably nothing but slush and a great big gaping vortex where all my money goes. Yeah, I have a giant contractor's wet dream on my hands. Pun intended. Screw you, Legionnaire's Disease!
b) We have tickets to Rock the Bells, which should be better known as quite possibly the Most Awesome Hip-Hop Lineup Ever: there shall be a reunion show from A Tribe Called Quest, Nas, Mos Def, Method Man, Redman, MF Doom, Rakim, Sage Francis and a whole slew of assorted kickassitude.
c) Since I am incapable of acting my age to begin with, I'm going to Warped Tour on Sunday in Buttfuckville, FL. This is as opposed to, say, the Orlando show, which I caught last year. The crowd of toothless, beWranglered hillbilly kids should be interesting in a town so small that the nearest "big city" only has like two stoplights. HOORAY FOR CHROMOSOMES AND THOSE CRAZY PRANKS THEY PLAY.
d) I get to see my chica Garnet this weekend, for the first time in like 5 months, and introduce two people endowed with deadly levels of Awesome to each other.
e) Last night, I mailed an envelope containing my own poop to the president. (Did you get one of those pre-printed 'Say Happy Birthday to Dubya! By giving us your money!' cards from the Republican National Committee a while back? With the smarmy "oh we love you Mr. Bush, this is the part where I spew jingoism all over you while keeping it to four lines or less" message inside? And the pre-paid return envelope? Whoring for cash directly from the White House? Yeah, I think that was good enough occasion to disseminate my feces into the postal system.)
f) There seems to be a hurricane headed right for us, but it keeps waffling back and forth between blowin' big and givin' up. I haven't had a good tropical storm since last year, damn it! Bring it on, Bertha! Baby needs a new monsoon.
g) The lights in our office elevator has been burned out for several days now, which means I have been starting my work days with a harrowing ride in a pitch-black coffin with no ventilation. It kind of casts a surreal Tower of Terror light over my mornings. Well, more than just, you know, work does.
h) I have no H.