(no subject)
I woke up this morning (well, afternoon) and I was just starved. So I went to the kitchen and started to rummage around for food. Hearing that I'd woken up, my mom, angry at me for being too loud last night and waking her up by accident, came up and she said, "Adam!", in an angry tone, "I have a beef with you." And, at first, my ears perked up--I thought she said she had some beef for me. ~Sigh~ Why is it always yelling and never food?
So, shalom everyone! Last night I went to dinner with my mommy (damn straight) at Merrick's local Spanish restaurant, House of Spain. It's been my lifelong goal to try paella and by golly, I was certainly going to do it last night. The restaurant, however, didn't create such an enjoyable atmosphere. Upon walking in I was simply hit by a wall of pure noise. For future reference, tiny restaurant + lots of tables + bad acoustics + loud, obnoxious, over-made-up, yappy and just slightly drunk Long Island women = a really bad combination. The paella was nothing really special either. I mean, it...well, it just wasn't la leche, as they say in Spanish.
In other news, you know Europe is becoming too liberal when...
Sexual Healing
The Danish government pays for the disabled and elderly to watch porn and have sex with prostitutes.
Caregivers in Copenhagen have found that pornography and prostitutes
have a greater calming effect on their elderly patients than
traditional medical treatment such as drug therapy.
The caregivers have told Danish media that pornography is healthier,
cheaper and easier to use than medicine, Lars Elmsted Petersen, a
spokesman for the Danish seniors' lobby group Aeldresagen, said.
(Via Ottmar Liebert @ INJournals)
So today I went running on the treadmill downstairs. I've been working on that lately, trying to lose a bit of weight. The beautiful thing about having the treadmill downstairs is that it faces the big TV, so I can watch HBO On Demand as I run. But I think I've gone a bit overboard with that, to the extent where...well, today, just before I got on, my mom told me to go for 35 minutes, and I had to inform her that I no longer measure my treadmill time in minutes. "What are you talking about?" I asked her, "I'm going on for one Sex and the City episode." Combine that with the clothing I wore to allow freer movement, my track uniform--more commonly known as a tank top and short shorts--and you have a combination that, to be blunt, made me look like a raging homosexual.
Nighty night everyone.
EDIT: While my manliness is being called into question, might as well take a look at the music I happened to have had playing when I wrote this entry...on that note, if any cute girls want to go to the Killers concert this Friday, feel free to get in touch with me.
So, shalom everyone! Last night I went to dinner with my mommy (damn straight) at Merrick's local Spanish restaurant, House of Spain. It's been my lifelong goal to try paella and by golly, I was certainly going to do it last night. The restaurant, however, didn't create such an enjoyable atmosphere. Upon walking in I was simply hit by a wall of pure noise. For future reference, tiny restaurant + lots of tables + bad acoustics + loud, obnoxious, over-made-up, yappy and just slightly drunk Long Island women = a really bad combination. The paella was nothing really special either. I mean, it...well, it just wasn't la leche, as they say in Spanish.
In other news, you know Europe is becoming too liberal when...
Sexual Healing
The Danish government pays for the disabled and elderly to watch porn and have sex with prostitutes.
Caregivers in Copenhagen have found that pornography and prostitutes
have a greater calming effect on their elderly patients than
traditional medical treatment such as drug therapy.
The caregivers have told Danish media that pornography is healthier,
cheaper and easier to use than medicine, Lars Elmsted Petersen, a
spokesman for the Danish seniors' lobby group Aeldresagen, said.
(Via Ottmar Liebert @ INJournals)
So today I went running on the treadmill downstairs. I've been working on that lately, trying to lose a bit of weight. The beautiful thing about having the treadmill downstairs is that it faces the big TV, so I can watch HBO On Demand as I run. But I think I've gone a bit overboard with that, to the extent where...well, today, just before I got on, my mom told me to go for 35 minutes, and I had to inform her that I no longer measure my treadmill time in minutes. "What are you talking about?" I asked her, "I'm going on for one Sex and the City episode." Combine that with the clothing I wore to allow freer movement, my track uniform--more commonly known as a tank top and short shorts--and you have a combination that, to be blunt, made me look like a raging homosexual.
Nighty night everyone.
EDIT: While my manliness is being called into question, might as well take a look at the music I happened to have had playing when I wrote this entry...on that note, if any cute girls want to go to the Killers concert this Friday, feel free to get in touch with me.