Took a photo for my passport renewal yesterday and I pretty much look like a serial killer. And my hair…I have no idea what it was trying to do yesterday other than make me look like a vagrant.
It’s just my luck that I had to take this photo on (1) a hot, humid day (YUCK), and (2) a day on which suffered from food poisoning. This is the second bad passport photo I’ve taken in a decade. Could this be some kind of karmic retribution for past indiscretions? Better luck in 10 years, I guess.
Cracked open my journal this morning. Saw what I wrote last night. It’s interesting, to say the least…
I’d like to preface the following by stating what will become very obvious: I was inebriated.
August 22, 2011
It’s 9:30 p.m. Monday. Feeling really good.
My head feels heavy & light at the same time.
Frankly, I am delighted that I can even write or that I even thought of the word “delight.”
I really am awesome.
Today was a good day.
…the hell? It’s just so…I don’t know. What the hell is going on? I don’t think I can ever listen to this song again without thinking of an older lady using power tools and swaying her ass back and forth as she seductively licks her lips. At least the video is highlighting an important issue: the Equal PayDay movement, a campaign to bring attention to the unequal wage differences between men and woman. I can definitely root for that. I’m just not sure anyone who watches this video actually pays attention to the supporting copy. Frankly, I was flabbergasted at the sight of shaking booties and boobies.
However, despite the initial reaction, this needs to be said: I do love that most of these ladies look pretty damn awesome for their age. Botox and plastic surgery be damned. I’d love to look like some of them when I’m in my 60s. I’m talking to you, Nancy and Clara.
I do enjoy sashimis, ceviches and tartares on occasion, but there’s a limit to what I’ll try. This is my limit, I think. When food flails on a plate, then I know I’ve gone way beyond the line of what I can stomach. (Or in this case, what I *can’t* stomach.) I don’t want my food to dance, I just want it to just lay there on a plate, like a college kid who’s passed out after a night of hard partying. Just lay there, and don’t move.
Here’s a link to the original article, via Huffington Post:
When I watched the video below I knew one thing was for sure: the very sweet-looking lady is definitely passionate about what she likes.
Quoted straight from the video:
“Three sizes, because I just can’t stand just one size.”
“I squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed, and squeezed.”
“If you DO get it on your hands, gloves are incredible.”
“Oops, a virgin edge!”
“I love to wiggle the whole thing.”
“Of course you can go straight.”
“Is this fun or what?”
“This was one night that I did not sleep. It is SO hard to stop.”
Arts and crafts are taken to a whole other level, people. Get your minds out of the gutter.
A guest of Greek and German descent was checking out of the hotel this morning.
“I hope everything was good with your stay. Did you enjoy your time in the area?,” I asked him.
He replied: “Yes, it was great, but this heat is just so oppressive. Everyone always says the Greeks are lazy, but with this heat you can’t really do much, can you? It drains you.”
Gee, I’m *SO* glad that our purported laziness correlates directly to the thermometer. I was going to be really butt-hurt if you thought we were lazy all year round, you know…
Here’s my theory: a woman who wears a (what-can-barely-be-classified-as-a) bikini, secretly hates herself and is thus trying to attract all of our attention to give herself value – even if it’s just for her T&A.
Side note: Are asses like this even possible in nature?
The only question that comes to mind is: Whatchu gonna do with all that junk inside your trunk?