I'm late for dinner.
Beer + razor cartridges = grocery shopping extreme. Please proceed to the ten-items-or-less cash-only lane, you sexy bitch.
A couple of students were rapping, horrendously, outside of Webb the other day, about...wait for it...the dangers of STD's. It was one of those moments you need someone else to witness alongside you to be sure it's actually happening. No one I know was there to confirm this story, so it's entirely possible I made the entire thing up out of sheer boredom. But it was damned funny all the same.
I laughed audibly at a little old man getting into a car that read, "The Tap-Dancing Terror of Tidewater." He didn't seem phased by my reaction. I am now filled with a strange but immense desire to hear this guy's life story.
My inner feminist woke up this morning and shouted, "Ban the bra!" before getting dressed and heading off to work. Unfortunately, she neglected to clue me into this little plan. She wandered off about five minutes into my shift, to battle some male chauvinist or chase something shiny, and left me with the startling realization that I was, indeed, freeboobing it. It was too late to go home. I had about as much desire to call my sister and ask her to run a bra up to me at work as she would have to actually do it. I briefly entertained the notion that it was somehow a little sexy, like going commando. But, bottom line, it was a cold day, and our shirts are cheap and thin. Finally I remembered that I still had some clothes in my trunk that I was supposed to drop off at Good Will months ago. I ran out into the snow and scored a tank top from one of the bags to put on underneath my uniform. Crisis averted. Ban sexism. Keep the bra.
I don't know if this is right, but it's the one I wanted most for me. Same here. So did I. Fuck yeah we did. I wouldn't either. Me too, but maybe it's for the best. Everything happens for a reason, right?
So I'm going against everything I've told myself I wanted, or didn't want, for well over a year. So I'm allowing my inner perfectionist to take a break for a while. So...sew buttons on your underpants to keep 'em shut.
Yes, I just quoted Lanham. I used to hate it when he said that too. I hope his flaming ass is still surviving the army. That crazy motherfucker.
A couple of students were rapping, horrendously, outside of Webb the other day, about...wait for it...the dangers of STD's. It was one of those moments you need someone else to witness alongside you to be sure it's actually happening. No one I know was there to confirm this story, so it's entirely possible I made the entire thing up out of sheer boredom. But it was damned funny all the same.
I laughed audibly at a little old man getting into a car that read, "The Tap-Dancing Terror of Tidewater." He didn't seem phased by my reaction. I am now filled with a strange but immense desire to hear this guy's life story.
My inner feminist woke up this morning and shouted, "Ban the bra!" before getting dressed and heading off to work. Unfortunately, she neglected to clue me into this little plan. She wandered off about five minutes into my shift, to battle some male chauvinist or chase something shiny, and left me with the startling realization that I was, indeed, freeboobing it. It was too late to go home. I had about as much desire to call my sister and ask her to run a bra up to me at work as she would have to actually do it. I briefly entertained the notion that it was somehow a little sexy, like going commando. But, bottom line, it was a cold day, and our shirts are cheap and thin. Finally I remembered that I still had some clothes in my trunk that I was supposed to drop off at Good Will months ago. I ran out into the snow and scored a tank top from one of the bags to put on underneath my uniform. Crisis averted. Ban sexism. Keep the bra.
I don't know if this is right, but it's the one I wanted most for me. Same here. So did I. Fuck yeah we did. I wouldn't either. Me too, but maybe it's for the best. Everything happens for a reason, right?
So I'm going against everything I've told myself I wanted, or didn't want, for well over a year. So I'm allowing my inner perfectionist to take a break for a while. So...sew buttons on your underpants to keep 'em shut.
Yes, I just quoted Lanham. I used to hate it when he said that too. I hope his flaming ass is still surviving the army. That crazy motherfucker.