I am still in the midst of ACN-wrangling, so this is another drive-by posting. Plus, I have the flu.
Peter with the flu is no good for anyone. I quickly turn from a nice guy who’ll help old ladies across the street, into a vile creature full of nothing but hate and organic corn flakes. If I ever get some kind of terminal disease, my family would be well advised to set me adrift on an ice flow someplace.
They’ve probably already considered it.
Before I sat down, I had like a half dozen fun things to mention. Now I can’t think of a single one. Bastards.
I’m totally still hooked on “Rockstar: Supernova.” Mostly because I have a Canadian to cheer for.
You know, I like Tommy Lee. He seems like he’d be a cool guy to hang with. Granted, I’ve never seen his sex videos, so I haven’t seen him steer a boat with his penis. I really don’t think there is any coming back from that.
In other news, I am half-convinced that the Anglican church near my house is playing “Three Blind Mice” each evening at 6 pm on it’s bells.
In the past few months I’ve said each of the following:
“There is nothing sexier than a woman who gets a satellite dish just to watch sports.”
“There is nothing sexier than a woman who plays fantasy football.”
“There is nothing sexier than a cute chick with glasses.”
“There is nothing sexier than a woman who drives a half-ton (truck.)” (Quoting my father.)
“There is nothing sexier than a woman climbing in through the window of a car.” (I had just watched DUKES OF HAZZARD.)
“There is nothing sexier than Eva Avila… except for her wearing glasses.”
“There is nothing sexier than mother-fucking snakes on a plane.”
I may decided to go another way with that.