Pointless Announcements

bastards pull me off a job that's 20 mins from my place.......and wanna send me to North fucking Vancouver for the next 4 or 5 days..........almost 2 hours away........

fuck me.

 

My heels have been hurting all year, so far. Maybe they're trying to tell me something about weighing so much.

 

I looked up glazed donut in the urban dictionary.

You don't want to know.

 

Logging on to deal with passive-aggressive stupidity is not my idea of a good start. It makes my banning finger all twitchy.

 

Just wear that purple suit you wore for your wedding and they will feel better.

 

Don't ban me, bro.



American Psychological Association accepted our proposal for a poster presentation in Division 46 -- Media Psych. Orlando, August 2 - 5, I think.

 

*makes note to self to not post that picture with the_jazz wearing that tutu and Shirley Temple wig grooming his 14 chihuahuas*

 

(suddenly imagines you as the wet blob with the face in Minority Report)

 

I came so close to quitting today, but I realized I love paychecks and health insurance.

 

This is why you make other people quit before they come to the same realization.

 

But the bastards just won't quit!

 

Regardless of your overblown opinions of yourself, your Photoshop-fu is no match for MeltedMetalGlob, and I'll be that I can coerce him into turning you into an Illinois Nazi that I can chase into the river.

You've met me IRL. You know I'm sensitive about my facial moisture. Why do you have to be so mean?!

 

I took a walk around campus and feel much better. I also talked to my supervisor and she made me feel better too.

 

Just mention those pictures from that Iceland trip involving penguins, power tools, and that oddly shaped....oh wait already said too much. Or you can threaten him with zombie squirrels - of course that might backfire as your brain might be her first choice of a light snack then.

 

Out of all the muscles I expected to be sore from swimming... glutes were not considered. Sheesh.

 

That's what I'm sayin'. A certain boyfriend of mine (*cough Lordeden cough*) doesn't like to give massages, though. The Y has an in-house masseuse, but you gotta pay for that. (also, to be fair, I like deeeeep massages...almost to the point of pain. I think that makes him nervous. And tires out his fingers )

 

One of these days you've got to explain to me why you're dating a guy that doesn't want to get his hands on your ass. Seriously. It's stupifying.
--- merged: Feb 7, 2012 9:59 PM ---
And at the risk of making ZombieSquirrel hate me even more - assuming that's even mathmatically possible - I hereby volunteer for ass-massaging duties. Let me know when you want me to show up. I'll even promise to keep the creepiness level to only what I'm contractually obligated to do.

 

Jazz, you're my hero.

 

I'll tell you what I tell Lordeden all the time... CinnamonGirl is mine!

I think I hate you about the same though because you pose no threat really.