I Swear I'm Cool In Real Life
Boxed wine causes you to wake up with stuff like "I Love Prada" written on your arm and pictures of cats drawn on your lower back.
Whenever I go to one of the large New York museums, I feel bad for paying some ridiculously low price to get in. I felt particularly bad the other day going to the Natural History Museum with April because not only did I pay only a thirteenth of the suggested admission fee, but I paid it in the form of a Sacajewea gold coin, which as everyone knows, is worthless in the world outside a NJ Transit ticket booth. That ticketing lady glared at me so long and hard! Oh man, such fun.
You know what else is great fun? Having a screaming match with your mother under the skeleton of an extinct twelve foot turtle.
These paleontologists must have great imaginations in order to assemble the bones into such nice dynamic poses--since when a barosaur dies in a peat bog, it usually doesn't die frozen on its hind legs, its tiny head waving ninety feet above a pack of allosaurs who died while continuing to threaten the barosaur's baby as they all sank to their deaths.
I bet that barosaur and those allosaurs never even met when they were alive, back in the day.
Suhxie came over last night. The original plan was to watch Kinsey because Peter Sarsgaard stirs the loins, but we decided that was too expensive. We ended up watching bootleg DVDs of The Incredibles and Team America bought from Chinatown while eating baked sweet potatoes.
The finale to The Incredibles was so satisfying.
The entirety of Team America was just not satisfying at all. People who contend that this movie rivals the genius of South Park (Lindsay Lohan, you stupid bangin' bitch--I'm lookin' at you) should be mercilessly taken down...with no mercy.
Whenever I go to one of the large New York museums, I feel bad for paying some ridiculously low price to get in. I felt particularly bad the other day going to the Natural History Museum with April because not only did I pay only a thirteenth of the suggested admission fee, but I paid it in the form of a Sacajewea gold coin, which as everyone knows, is worthless in the world outside a NJ Transit ticket booth. That ticketing lady glared at me so long and hard! Oh man, such fun.
You know what else is great fun? Having a screaming match with your mother under the skeleton of an extinct twelve foot turtle.
These paleontologists must have great imaginations in order to assemble the bones into such nice dynamic poses--since when a barosaur dies in a peat bog, it usually doesn't die frozen on its hind legs, its tiny head waving ninety feet above a pack of allosaurs who died while continuing to threaten the barosaur's baby as they all sank to their deaths.
I bet that barosaur and those allosaurs never even met when they were alive, back in the day.
Suhxie came over last night. The original plan was to watch Kinsey because Peter Sarsgaard stirs the loins, but we decided that was too expensive. We ended up watching bootleg DVDs of The Incredibles and Team America bought from Chinatown while eating baked sweet potatoes.
The finale to The Incredibles was so satisfying.
The entirety of Team America was just not satisfying at all. People who contend that this movie rivals the genius of South Park (Lindsay Lohan, you stupid bangin' bitch--I'm lookin' at you) should be mercilessly taken down...with no mercy.