Monica: God, I hate Creed. "Arms Wide Open" my ass. I would like to jam something down Scott Stapp's wide open throat.
Me: Ha! Excellent. Take your "I love my baby slash I worship Jesus" rock somewhere else, Scott. Somewhere like the bottom of the ocean.
Monica: Totally.
Me: Just a poor man's Stryper if you ask me.
Monica: Honestly.
Me: Well played.

Labels: im convos, mons, music, pop culture

Mike Tyson eats babies and now he wishes to rape babies mommas. Mike should no longer be allowed to participate in society anymore.

Labels: pop culture, sports

I am currently embroiled in severe relationship and emotional strife. She Who Will Not Be Named and I have hit the proverbial wall. I am hoping we will pull out of this tailspin get back to happily watching G-String Divas and eating ice cream out of the carton once again. One can only hope. If things do not work out, I will probably be spending my free time trembling, naked and curled up in the fetal position on the kitchen floor with an empty bottle of whiskey in my hands. I may be having some problems, but at least my relationship is nothing like this.

Labels: feelings, l-i-v-i-n, she who

It is late and Mark and I have been communicating since 9 o'clock post meridian via instant messenger about this silly blog. After tonight I realize that my coding abilities are as horrific as Michael Jackson's face. Regardless of my technical ignorance this site is now blogging like a motherfucker. Please notice that commenting is now also available. This welcomes you to open your cry hole and interject some worthless opinion that only nine people will eventually read. Props to Mark and Jake for helping this graphic designer stumble into the future. You boys are the gravy on my mashed potatoes.

Labels: /mark, jake, technology