Happy Belated Birthday, Jon!!
Happy Birthday, Katie!!
University of Southern California Women of Troy
This one isn't that weird. The team isn't actually the Women of Troy, they're Trojans, and the female athletes are sometimes referred to as the Women of Troy, but they are still Trojans. If you really want to label them as weird, label them weird for picking the Trojans, who are really just famous historical losers. And condoms.
First off I had to eat waffles and drink Blue Mountain coffee. In half an hour, I have to start my free week at the swanky gym. Then I intend to look at some apartments in the neighbourhood, and maybe see Sideways or Hotel Rwanda.
I think I want to hang out with ita and have her day.
Instead, I had oatmeal, and it was rather bleh. And now I have to write a short little paper. I need to write some scenes for a play I'm not all that crazy about. Then I need to spend some time in the ceramics lab. I also need to read a play and write a paper on it, but unfortunately the book store is closed today, due to the holiday, so it's completely thrown off my system of buying the book Monday night, reading it, writing the paper, and returning it after class on Tuesday, so I get the full refund I'm entitled to, since I've returned it within two days. So I'm not real sure what to do about that. Maybe I'll go into work today, and log in a few hours so that I can skip work tomorrow morning and read and write up the play then, instead. Also, I need to do groceries. And practice the piano (the one activity on my list that does actually sound kind of fun).
And the biggest problem is that it's disgusting out, and I'm having a hard time convincing myself to leave my apartment.
But I have 365 days ahead of me of making the "no, I'm twenty-nine for real" joke...
Y'all must tell your ages more often than I do. I can easily go a year without telling anyone how old I am, and I'd never heard of the above phenomenon until here. I feel I missed something.
Tried out the swank club. I see where the money goes. It's gorgeous, and has more exercise machines than God does. I only tried one room, the Loop, where they have lights that flash every 30s to get you off your current machine onto the next one. 3 rounds of 15 machines, and I'm pretty nicely worked out. And in a good endorphin fueled place, which wasn't compromised by sitting in Adam Sandler's sweat.
Cool. And eww. But mostly cool, ita.
T-shirt for the cool kids.
I don't get it. Google only gives me porn.
Just in case you were wondering: If I were King of Swaziland, each of my wives would have a Minolta she could use to photograph any car she wished to photograph.
Monkeys, however, would need a press pass.
Having been obscure, I now vanish into the ether.
I'm wearing a shirt that says
OPEN MIND
STRONG BODY
BEAUTIFUL SOUL
right now. AIFG.
Though I do feel I should put a post-it on that says "this was a gift -- the wearer does not necessarily claim these qualities for herself."
I don't get it. Google only gives me porn.
That's because google wants to have sex with you. Don't you read your spam?
Wait, no, that's nonsensical.
What I meant to say was -- it's the shirt for everyone in Paris Hilton's hacked sidekick. Whose address book seems to be no longer on line. Seth Green's phone number is upthread, somewhere, though.
Oh wow.
I thought I lost me cell at the Angel party last year. It was sickening. I had nightmare visions of some insane person calling Tim at 4am to yell at him for killing Doyle.
