Monday, August 30, 2010
"I got married a week and a half ago. I've known him since September. We were kind of off and on. There were periods where I didn't talk to him for a few months. But we're married now. So whatever."
Remind me not to do that. K thanks bye.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
If you don't watch this, it won't make sense. But yes. You were right... my new favorite quote:
"You know its funny, we started out like this, Helen and I. We had blank walls, hung things, put down tiles together. Then you know what happens? Six years later you find yourself singing SURREY with the FRINGE ON TOP, IN FRONT OF IRA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
Every time I hear Harry scream: "IN FRONT OF IRA!!!" I seriously cannot hold in my giggles. Oh Billy Crystal, you're such a funny man.
Friday, August 27, 2010
1. Facebook is nosy.
2. Facebook is a gossip.
3. Facebook is a bragger.
4. Facebook tells the same studpid stories over and over again.
5. Facebook tries to get us addicted to things. (Farmville, anyone?)
6. Facebook encourages stalking.
7. Facebook has no respect for privacy.
And now lets translate that into action: Facebook is the kind of friend who "talks bad" about other people behind their back. He never shuts up. He can often be found sitting on your couch in his greasy potato chip stained sweats, forcing you to look at his boring vacation pictures. He somehow always knows your business and consults everyone in the world about it. Also, he is on probation for stalking. What. A. Guy.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Anyway. Usually this grounds crew guy just cuts diagonal lines through the field surrounding the sidewalk, having to cut across it every now and then. This is a little bit scary for me, but whatever. I can see where he is coming from and where he is going, so I stifle my horror and maintain my composure.
WELL TODAY he decided to swing around me as I walked by, and drive directly behind me all the way to my office door. I panicked. My little heart started beating super fast. I could see his reflection in the glass doors coming up closer and closer behind me. The last 10 yards I seriously had to restrain myself from breaking into a sprint in my high heels. He is a mean mean lawnmower man. I don't know if he was trying to be funny, but it WAS NOT. I was so disturbed that I didn't even look behind me while he was chasing me.
DARN YOU LAWNMOWER MAN!
Friday, August 20, 2010
This guy is being dead serious. Freaked me right out. He believes in elves SOOOOOOOO much.
I had no idea elves were unicorn keepers. Or that they love fruit. Whattayaknow.
Thanks to Miss Crusty for posting this.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
"Making the Cut"
A documentary on 60-day Army Ranger school.
I seriously marvel at both the psychological and physical endurance it takes to keep from weeping like a wimpy baby while going through the hell that is ranger school. About 100 recruits quit within the first 3 days. The soldiers are sleep deprived and food deprived on purpose. As in... one meal every couple days, 3 hours of sleep every two days. Army Rangers are an elite group. Only the best of the best are even sent to ranger school to begin with. Over the course of 61 days, most of them will lose 30 to 40 pounds. And how hard is it for them to stay awake, let alone do something strenuous? One soldier told the camera one of the tricks of the trade to stay alert:
"Some of these guys put tabasco sauce in their eyes. I haven't tried that yet."
One time, in highschool, I cussed aloud and then started crying because I dropped a powdered donut on the ground, and I was REALLY hungry. Ranger school is not for me.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Sometimes it makes me sad that my first initial is K. Welcome to the spice KKK. Apparently, my spices don't like mixing with other spices. No spice integration here. This is totally not me. It's too bad my initials aren't NAACP. I know that doesn't make sense, but I'm sure you get what I'm saying.
Once upon a time yesterday I went to go fill up the old skunky truck with gas. The gas tank access door thinga-ma-jig has to be opened with a key sometimes. But not other times. I can't explain it. It has a lock? Whatever.
So I was trying reallllllly hard to open up the gas lock, and totally bent my car key. To the max. It was both bent AND twisted. I didn't take a picture, (because I was PANICKING) but I should have. This is seriously what it looked like though:
But worse. It wouldn't open my door, and it definitely wouldn't turn the ignition. I thought about calling my dad to ask him what to do, but that's when I remembered that the key I destroyed was the one and only key we have for the skunk. My earthly father, the amazing fix-it-man that he is, wouldn't be able to help me.
At that point, I said a desperate prayer to my Heavenly Father that I would be able to somehow get home. I really, really did not want to have to be towed from the gas station. After my little prayer, I became a newly inspired and determined McGyver. I stuck the bent key back into the gas tank lock and then carefully, meticulously and expertly bent my key back into near perfect condition. Wait, should that have been physically possible? Probably not. Did it open the door? Yes. Did it fit in the ignition? Pretty much. Does the car start? Yes.
I said another little prayer of thanks as I made my way back to my apartment. As I got out of my little truck, I noticed that I had driven all the way home from the gas station with my ancient and probably non-replaceable gas cap just sitting gingerly on the roof of the truck-bed cover.
I then said another little prayer of thanks that the gas cap didn't roll off. I am a dumb dumb. And my prayers are still answered. That's good to know.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Ever since we inherited the Mazda from my grandpa, my dad has always said:
"We should make a hot rod out of it!!"
..... And it always made me question his sanity a little bit, because, well, have you seen the truck?
No? Meet skunky:
Not hot rod material.
So anyway, this morning I was trying to find out via google how big the gas tank was on this bad boy, because I have a sneaking suspicion that the gas gauge shows 3/4 of a tank when really it should read FREAKING EMPTY.
As I was looking for a PDF of an old owners manual, I discovered that people actually DO make hot rods out of yes, the exact same make and model Mazda truck that I drive. This phenomenon can be attributed to the rising popularity of restoring "mini trucks."
Hot rodders basically turn these little automotive pipsqueaks into itty bitty low riders.