good news, bad news, news(?), and stupid shit i say when i drink whiskey.
"Always start with the good news."
Isn't that what they say? Who cares. I'm starting with the good news because i want to get it out of the way before it ruins my bad mood.
The good news is that -- ah fuck it. I was just going to make something up so that this wasn't just a bunch of me pissing and moaning, but I really don't care. If you need good news go somewhere else (i warn you that straightforeward good news may be neither as informative or entertaining as my bitter fag ranting).
Onto the "so good it must be fattening" stuff:
As if waiting for the first ninety minutes of my day in a [180 degree farenheit] City Hall office to kiss ass in the name of good politics wasn't humiliating enough, on the ride back to my office I was met by the news that Governor Terminator has vowed to protect the rights of heteros in California (read: continue to bend over for the big rich cock that is the right wing). Way to go Mr. Schriver! If only you had that kind of power in Canada and Spain you could have saved them from a societal crumble. I will stop there. I'm sure you can see where this is going.
Item number two: Jesse Bradford may be a straight!? Now, I plan to do my American duty of turning my head in opposition of this rumor. >>raises right hand<<
Three: what will bush do now that a good portion of the nation's poverty stricken will not be registering for the army due to other issues (read: loss of life and everything associated with it to a chick named Katrina)? Is it too early to be having ideas like this? Isn't it fact that the majority of boys and girls targeted for military recruiting are below the poverty level? I think I have read that somewhere, or maybe I'm just drawing from observation. The probable loss of future warriors of "democracy" should be enough to motivate George et al. Maybe not. That would require a certain amount of inductive thought. (i've also had the budding theory that our fearless leader isn't actually on the gulf coast at all: could all of this footage simple be a soundstage? There has to be a reason why rescue helicopters are being shot at while Bush can just waltz through without so much as a bad word thrown his way.)
And now the whiskey part:
Okay ... when was the last time that you, after drinking five [or ten] Jack & Cokes, professed to a former flame that you would like to get back together? (Man, I hope that at least one person is shaking their head in agreement with that statement.)
It's easy to believe that you can keep up this charade the morning after, but, my friends, you can't. Trust me. I have been avoiding said flame's phone calls for the past four days. I do intend to call and appologize for the Jack Daniels incident, the subsequent making out in the parking lot, and the irreparable damages caused by the alcohol induced promises of fidelity, but I think I may need a few shots first.
He should just stop calling and resolve to hate me (like I have resolved to never go to another Black Party in this town). That would save us both the $3.50 on coffee that we will inevitably have this conversation over. Problem solved (crosses fingers and hopes he reads this.)
whew! ok. back to work.
Isn't that what they say? Who cares. I'm starting with the good news because i want to get it out of the way before it ruins my bad mood.
The good news is that -- ah fuck it. I was just going to make something up so that this wasn't just a bunch of me pissing and moaning, but I really don't care. If you need good news go somewhere else (i warn you that straightforeward good news may be neither as informative or entertaining as my bitter fag ranting).
Onto the "so good it must be fattening" stuff:
As if waiting for the first ninety minutes of my day in a [180 degree farenheit] City Hall office to kiss ass in the name of good politics wasn't humiliating enough, on the ride back to my office I was met by the news that Governor Terminator has vowed to protect the rights of heteros in California (read: continue to bend over for the big rich cock that is the right wing). Way to go Mr. Schriver! If only you had that kind of power in Canada and Spain you could have saved them from a societal crumble. I will stop there. I'm sure you can see where this is going.
Item number two: Jesse Bradford may be a straight!? Now, I plan to do my American duty of turning my head in opposition of this rumor. >>raises right hand<<
I vow to watch swimfan until i run out of tissues with the hopes that if there is a god, she will not allow my DNA to be wasted on yet another straight man.(Amen.)
Three: what will bush do now that a good portion of the nation's poverty stricken will not be registering for the army due to other issues (read: loss of life and everything associated with it to a chick named Katrina)? Is it too early to be having ideas like this? Isn't it fact that the majority of boys and girls targeted for military recruiting are below the poverty level? I think I have read that somewhere, or maybe I'm just drawing from observation. The probable loss of future warriors of "democracy" should be enough to motivate George et al. Maybe not. That would require a certain amount of inductive thought. (i've also had the budding theory that our fearless leader isn't actually on the gulf coast at all: could all of this footage simple be a soundstage? There has to be a reason why rescue helicopters are being shot at while Bush can just waltz through without so much as a bad word thrown his way.)
And now the whiskey part:
Okay ... when was the last time that you, after drinking five [or ten] Jack & Cokes, professed to a former flame that you would like to get back together? (Man, I hope that at least one person is shaking their head in agreement with that statement.)
It's easy to believe that you can keep up this charade the morning after, but, my friends, you can't. Trust me. I have been avoiding said flame's phone calls for the past four days. I do intend to call and appologize for the Jack Daniels incident, the subsequent making out in the parking lot, and the irreparable damages caused by the alcohol induced promises of fidelity, but I think I may need a few shots first.
He should just stop calling and resolve to hate me (like I have resolved to never go to another Black Party in this town). That would save us both the $3.50 on coffee that we will inevitably have this conversation over. Problem solved (crosses fingers and hopes he reads this.)
whew! ok. back to work.
posted by brian. at 1:06 PM
