|Be, all that you can be, do the laundry|
on 2001-08-23, at 4:10 p.m.
|dizboy's disturbing daily diet...
1 Bag Tostitos
1 Jar Salsa
It's not a lot, but hey, it's early yet.
Every time I eat salsa, I remind myself that I'm allergic to onions, so to not eat too much.
Which is why I now have an rash forming on my chest.
This city is actively condusive to ill mental health.
No, really, it is.
Orlando seems to have been planned by M.C. Escher.
It looks nice at first, but when you stare long enough, nothing seems to come together properly.
I saw two accidents on my way to school this morning...one on the side of the road, and one right behind me.
The car directly behind mine got hit, and pushed it THIS (creates miniscule space between thumb and index finger as to show proportional relation) close to wacking me, as well. But instead, she missed, and I drove away wondering who was worse off. She, for having an accident during rush hour on I-4, or me, for having to face the clusterfuck that is known as parking at my school.
Something disturbing is happening in my apartment.
The clothes are taking over.
You see, I still haven't really unpacked yet, so they took it upon themselves to exit the suitcase, and make themselves comfortable on any surface they saw fit.
That's not even the worst part.
Once they were settled, they rang my clean clothes to come round. So they came out of the closet (in the same way I did years ago, but without all the crying), and took the remaining floor space, creating a heartwarming vision of laundered and un-laundered clothes coexisting in peace and harmony.
Nevermind the fact that said vision is on my papisan.
My place has truly reached an all-time low where clothes are concerned. The whole place is like an army camp.
An army camp of vicious cotton blends.
And I'm now Forrest Gump, as every time I try to sit down in my living room, there's a pair of jeans, or a shirt eyeing me dubiously and saying, "Seat's taken".
So I'm banished to my bedroom, which is a tad unnerving, because the closet door remains open, and the clothes that I do manage to return to their rightful hangers give me this look of "We shall wait till you sleep, and then, the day is ours!!".
I should probably lay off the salsa.
Ok, a little P.S.- This is "wet-yourself-funny", well, to me at least. You need to do this before 10pm, Eastern Standard Time.
Ok...Get to a phone, and dial this number...
Listen till you hear option #7.
Then, press "7".
You have to do it during their business hours, but it's well worth it. -J
Prodigal Son - 11:03 pm , 11.20.06 So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish - 6:41 pm , 05.29.05 The Beginning of the End - 1:15 pm , 11.22.04 Brand Positioning - 2:13 am , 09.20.04 A Pop Culture Case Study - 9:24 pm , 08.26.04
Prodigal Son - 11:03 pm , 11.20.06
So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish - 6:41 pm , 05.29.05
The Beginning of the End - 1:15 pm , 11.22.04
Brand Positioning - 2:13 am , 09.20.04
A Pop Culture Case Study - 9:24 pm , 08.26.04
Tired of waiting for me to
to know when I do?
Far / Near