Archive | 9:31 pm

Matricide

29 Jul

I just spent a fucking hour and a fucking half with my mother on the fucking phone planning our fucking vacation.  She is so fucking infuriating sometimes.  She has a fucking computer at her fucking house but can’t fucking figure out how to fucking use it.  It’s really fucking annoying.

She was looking for information on conferences and she literally does this?

  • Mom: Did you look for “psychiatry travel seminars”?
  • Me: Yes, and 700 zillion things pop up, but only two are relevant.
  • Mom:  How about “travel seminars psychiatry”?
  • Me: Mom, changing the order of the words doesn’t change that most of the 7 zillion results are irrelevant.
  • Mom:  Just try it.
  • Me: Fine. Would you look at that?  Only 2 web pages are relevant.
  • Mom: How about “travel psychiatry seminars”?
  • Me: Are you kidding me?

I used every derivation of “travel”, “seminar” and “psychiatry” I could come up with.  Endless and pointless combinations. We went back and forth for 90 minutes only to go back to the first two fucking web pages I gave her at the beginning of the god damn conversation.  That’s 90 minutes I will never ever fucking get back.

Even Better than “Who’s on First”

29 Jul

I’m sitting here with Depeche Mode as we’re both “working” from home today.  The discussion turns to names and we begin discussing how much we both hate the name Bob.  Hate.  A lot.  Then we move on to the following:

  • Depeche Mode: I don’t like the name Bobby for a grown man.
  • Me: It’s kind of cute, not so bad.
  • Depeche Mode: Where do you stand on Robby?
  • Me: Ugh, hate that for an adult.
  • Depeche Mode: What about Robb with 2 b’s?
  • Me: That’s just stupid.
  • Depeche Mode: Yeah, I don’t get it.
  • Me: So where do you stand?  Are you 2 b’s or not 2 b’s.

That’s when I proceeded to laugh and laugh because I love stupid puns.  I was then promptly told by Depeche Mode not to do that at his table.

Shakespeare is rolling over in his grave right now.

God, I seriously crack myself up sometimes.

My Spicy Man Meat

29 Jul

I mentioned several weeks ago that my friends and I have decided that we are all too freaking fat and that exposing our bodies to tourists in Mexico would be unlawful and we’d immediately get sent to the States.  Operation Mexi Melt is in full swing, and everyone has been doing well.  Boom Boom and I have become dedicated to fitness.  Several times a week we drag our plump butts to the gym and work up a sweat.  Typically, the thought of this would make me feel like killing myself 12 times, however, I have found my inspiration: spicy man meat.

There is this dude that works at the gym that is seriously one of the hottest guys I have ever seen.  Ever.  In my life.  Ever.  Ever. Ever.

Ever.

Hottest dude ever.

In the world.

Ever.

This guy’s body is sick.  He’s tall, has just the right muscle tone, broad shoulders, great hair and  a tight ass.  Me want him. Unfortunately, his stupid tiny blond girlfriend is usually in tow.  I don’t know the girl, but I fucking hate her.  She is a whore. The luckiest whore in the world.  You can imagine my delight on Tuesday when I was sitting on the stationary bike, cursing my, when he suddenly appeared – without his girlfriend. I literally sat there for an hour and just gawked at him. I watched him run around the track, lift weights, sweat, and totally avoid eye contact.

I ended up moving to an elliptical that faces the track, and that’s when the magic happened: he started doing wunges (walking lunges, which are usually lamer than shit) right in front of me.  He was lunging so deep that his ball sack was practically hitting the floor.  It was so hot I almost fell off my elliptical.  I swear I had to go home and change out of my workout pants afterwards, creamy good times.

Hottest guy ever.