Wednesday, June 24, 2009
A&M and check out that chick!
My wife’s obsession with donuts has reached an all time high. You ever meet someone who gets an idea in his or her mind and just can’t let it go? That’s what my wife is like, but only when the subject of donuts is brought up. I’m serious. At the slightest mention of a donut the negotiations begin. “Let’s go for a walk” or “I heard about this one place that has the old fashion frosting” or “I’ll suck your dick for a thousand dollars.” Just kidding. That was from The Big Lebowski. I just felt like quoting Tara Reid in her greatest ever performance.
We saw Food, Inc last night. For you redneck fuckers in the middle of our country Food, Inc is a movie about the production of food in the U.S. It’s eye opening to say the least. But I don’t want to preach. Though it’s hard for me to keep quiet after seeing what I saw. My biggest advice is to go see it yourself and make your own opinions. Don’t worry; it’s not about limp dicked vegans. Let me say, I will continue to eat meat. I just want to be certain where my meat came from, why the Bananas are from Ecuador and what exactly a GoGurt is. Still not sure. I’ll see you at the Farmer’s Market.
Last night Tim Lincecum went nine complete innings, struck out 12 and gave up only one run. So naturally I stayed up to watch SportsCenter so I could see the Giants and Timmy get their due respect. I waited 55 minutes. They covered a WNBA game before they covered the Giants. If I’ve said it once I’ve said it a thousand times. Fuck the East Coast Media. Fuck Bristol, Connecticut. And fuck you Chris Berman. Thank you.
I’m addicted to my phone. And it’s reached unprecedented heights. You see, I have an iPhone. It’s made by Apple. You may have heard of them. I have a routine bordering on autistic. I check my email, my Facebook, my text messages, hell even the weather non-stop. (I’ve already sent and received 12 texts while writing this post alone. I’m like a 13-year old girl!) It’s started to hinder my everyday activities. I have to consciously leave my phone in the bedroom so it doesn’t travel with me through the rest of the house. Or else I’ll check it. And then I’ll check it again. Hell, even when I take Patch to ‘drop it like it’s hot’ in the morning I am checking my email. Surprisingly I am still no better at returning phone calls. Sorry Joshy.
On a scale of one to who gives a fuck my excitement for the NBA draft tomorrow is at about a 2. Who gives a fuck? The Warriors will draft a lanky, athletic, 6-10 guy with a ton of ‘upside’ and someone with big ears and a goofy face out of UCLA will get drafted way too early. There are some things that never change.
Who the fuck decided which words replace others in the autocorrect function on iPhones? The iPhone automatically corrects your words while you type. One of my friends sent me a text this past weekend about the pants Ricky Barnes was wearing on Day 3 of the U.S. Open. I attempted to respond with ‘Those pants are straight gangster.’ But the fucking phone corrected it to say ‘Those pants are straight hamster.’ Amazing. There has to be a thousand stories out there like that. I’m going to start saving my auto corrects. Good post fodder.
I’m happy to report both of my fantasy football league draft days are set. My college league will draft Friday, August 28 and my high school league will draft on Saturday, August 29th. Both leagues are now accepting applications for a cocktail waitress during the event. Requirements: must be able to make simple cocktails, must be able to serve drinks to guys even when they are way past their limit and must be willing to suck a cock for a thousand dollars. I’m just kidding! There I go again. That was The Big Lebowski. Not me. I would never…how dare you!