Sunday, May 25, 2003
Beds before shotguns |12:08 PM| I'm still mostly offline, and in fact I'm posting this from work. While that seems intensely dorky, I'm not here to update a damn journal. I'm waiting for a phonecall from a guy who is taking that cat nicknamed "bandit" off of my family's hands.
I lost my damned boomerrang. I was showing some folks how to throw it in what turned out to be a bit too-strong of a headwind. I'll have to ask the maintenance guy for a ladder and get on the roof. Since I had spare time on my hands at that point, I took my roommate and her friends shopping, before going on my own shopping adventure with Portalstar. What a romantic saturday night.
I picked up the supplies for making a bunch of cookies, so that should be amusing.
Portal and I continued our search for potten Basil, and we finally gave up last night. Too late in the season, and apparently every human being in Austin wanted Basil on thursday and friday. Curses. While browsing I did see a really pretty house plant called a caladium, which of course turned out to be poisonous. Figures. Good thing I found out about that before my cat did.
As for the title of this post, I was hearing some creepy ex-boyfriends-turned-demonic-asshole stories from my roommate and friends. This made me reconsider the purchase of a firearm. (Notice I said "Firearm" and not "gun". If you're a guy and have a female friend handy, have her say in the most nuetral tone of voice "You're buying a gun." and it will STILL make it sound like a stupid idea. It's like magic). They had a decent (cheap) Mossberg there, and when Portal noticed me shopping for death tools, she politely reminded me "Don't you have to buy a new bed first?". Beds before shotguns, people. It's the only way we can have peace.
Hmmm, still no phone call. And of course I left the USB cable for this camera back at home, so I can't show you the goofy images I have. They're funny, seriously. Guess they'll just have to wait.
I wonder if there's such thing as pill bottle recycling?
Beds before shotguns |12:08 PM| I'm still mostly offline, and in fact I'm posting this from work. While that seems intensely dorky, I'm not here to update a damn journal. I'm waiting for a phonecall from a guy who is taking that cat nicknamed "bandit" off of my family's hands.
I lost my damned boomerrang. I was showing some folks how to throw it in what turned out to be a bit too-strong of a headwind. I'll have to ask the maintenance guy for a ladder and get on the roof. Since I had spare time on my hands at that point, I took my roommate and her friends shopping, before going on my own shopping adventure with Portalstar. What a romantic saturday night.
I picked up the supplies for making a bunch of cookies, so that should be amusing.
Portal and I continued our search for potten Basil, and we finally gave up last night. Too late in the season, and apparently every human being in Austin wanted Basil on thursday and friday. Curses. While browsing I did see a really pretty house plant called a caladium, which of course turned out to be poisonous. Figures. Good thing I found out about that before my cat did.
As for the title of this post, I was hearing some creepy ex-boyfriends-turned-demonic-asshole stories from my roommate and friends. This made me reconsider the purchase of a firearm. (Notice I said "Firearm" and not "gun". If you're a guy and have a female friend handy, have her say in the most nuetral tone of voice "You're buying a gun." and it will STILL make it sound like a stupid idea. It's like magic). They had a decent (cheap) Mossberg there, and when Portal noticed me shopping for death tools, she politely reminded me "Don't you have to buy a new bed first?". Beds before shotguns, people. It's the only way we can have peace.
Hmmm, still no phone call. And of course I left the USB cable for this camera back at home, so I can't show you the goofy images I have. They're funny, seriously. Guess they'll just have to wait.
I wonder if there's such thing as pill bottle recycling?
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