69’d by Stumbleupon; Also, There Are Two Banana-Yellow VW Bugs in the Parking Lot, and I’m Pretty Sure That is a Sign of the Apocalypse

I’ve recently gotten a bunch of hits from Stumbleupon (69, to be exact, and I’m sorry, but yeah, I’m that immature, and also, the implication isn’t even really true, because Stumbleupon’s doing it for me, but I have yet to reciprocate, so it’s more like I’m just doing Stumbleupon and not calling it back the next day). (Also, my autospellcheck wants to change Stumbleupon to Tumbleweed, and I think that’s hilarious, because besides the fact that I’m inexplicably tickled pink by a dry, dead bush blowing through the desert, it’s kind of appropriate, because I’m sure tumbleweeds stumbleupon all sorts of interesting things in their travels, right?) (And also, am I the only one that hears like eight jokes about sex in that sentence about being tickled pink by a tumbleweed? Blowing? Bush? Yeah?) (Why, I am turning 28 this year, thanks for asking.) So, does this mean that somebody found me so entertaining that they submitted me to Stumbleupon? If so, I’m thoroughly flattered. And also a little insulted. You think I’m here just to entertain you? Am I your little dancing clown? NO. Not that I know anything about Stumbleupon since it’s blocked by the stupid webfilter at work. Wait, it’s not a porn site, is it? How do I look?

OH, so I thought that I was doing okay karmic-pointwise because I got the flu, but then Saturday the power went out, and now my computer will not come back on. I am a little devastated because until I replace the power supply (if that works – if not, I’ll be diggin’ deep in my pockets for that Macbook I’m not quite ready to buy yet) I will not be able to drunk blog.

I will let that sink in for a moment.

This is bad, because I can’t drink at work anymore, and frankly, people, I’m much funnier when I’m incoherent and telling everyone I love them. So, I think what I’m going to have to do is either handwrite my drunk blogs for the time being, or leave them on L’s voicemail so she can type them up for me.

This conversation happened sober:

My Ex: “Let’s go get matching tattoos.”

Me: “What? Okay, sure.”

My Ex: “What should we get? You pick.”

Me: “You pick this time, I picked the last one.”



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Filed under Blowing Dead Bush in the Desert is Totally a Euphemism, My Computer is in a Coma, Stumbleupon, Tumbleweed

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