Friday, September 10, 2010

Gag me with a spoon

(on a side note, I really hate having to title posts.)

This morning, as I stumbled into my favorite Happy Corner Party Store to pick up my daily dose of Diet Coke,  (my sweet, sweet love of Diet Coke) I grabbed a bag of chips to go with lunch. Walking down the aisle, I searched for the correct color of red bag for Nacho Cheese Doritos. Finding it, I snatched up a bag, paid and left. When lunch timed rolled around, I grabbed my sandwich, carrots and chips. I opened the bag of Nacho Cheese goodness and plopped one into my hungry mouth. Only to gag in repulsion upon realizing that I bought the new "Tailgator BBQ" flavor. I internally start screaming "Fuck! Fuck! I'm going to barf!" I would have said it out loud, only I was too busy spitting the repulsive "Tailgator BBQ" chips of hell into the garbage. Oh Doritos. You done fucked me up. What the hell were you thinking?! "Tailgator BBQ" otherwise known as shit on a chip?!?! That's just wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. At least make the bag brown to represent the shit like taste as not to confuse the easily confused as myself. I will forgive you this once Doritos. Please don't let me down again. I'd hate to have to switch to Cheetos. Thankyoukindly.

Thursday, September 9, 2010

Did ya.....

Did ya ever wonder if we were all stuck in some Giant Ogre's snow globe? And when said Ogre was bored he'd shake the crap out of the globe, sit back and laugh hysterically as everyone's life went to hell in a hand basket? Which, by the way, since it has been brought up, what exactly is "hell in a hand basket"? Is it like a picnic basket filled with wee tiny devils?  A place where all the poor dejected little shoulder devils go when a person chooses to side with the angel sitting on the opposite side? And why for that matter do I usually decide to listen to the devil on my shoulder instead of the angel? Do I even have a meaning to this post? Fuck. I just don't know.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Thought of the day

Just a random thought:

Do you think Dorothy the Fish would flush herself down the toilet if she could?

I mean, wouldn't you rather then spend one more day sitting on top of Elmo's piano singing the jumping song. Or the bug song. Or deal with Mr. Noodle and his brother Mr. Noodle. I for one would. It's worse than Chinese water torture.

Hell, it's worse than Barney.

Clearly, I need to get a life.