Depressing Revelations and a Little Politickin
Ok so I've resigned myself to the dubious conclusion that only someone $100,000 in debt would ever be willing to make, as much as I don't want to. It was a fine experiment, but I'm coming back to Rhode Island next year, degree in hand. I say this with the vitrol that only someone who has to deal with Julie Anne, my mother, could muster. The woman's a saint, but Jesus H. Christ I can't stand her for more than 48 consecutive hours. In addition to that, I will have approximately two people with whom to interact with in Rhodesia outside of my immediate family. It's going to be interesting, that's for certain.
Allow me to pull over my dusty soap box for a second and stand upon it. I kept my big mouth shut through 90% of the election, but this, of all things, I feel the need to comment upon:
Shut the fuck up about Michael Phelps taking a hit from a bong.
It's not that I like the guy. In fact, every time I see his smirking, moronic face on TV, I want to cave it in with a lead pipe, and yes, it takes a certain type of moron to allow a picture of yourself in the presence of glassware to wander onto the internet. Having said that, almost everybody on the planet has taken a hit from a giant bong. Oh, you haven't? I tip my hat to you. You have more self-control than 97% of the population including Michael Phelps. Either that, or you have no friends who own a giant bong.
So give the guy a fucking break. Weed doesn't help you swim better, it just helps you enjoy it more.
Also Christian Bale. I don't care that he has a bade temper. I have a bad temper. I'm over it.
Also, thanks to Matt Whittaker for this one:
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