Drawn 6/7/2005
Go all in
1
Monthly Archives: August 2006
Living is overrated
Seriously, what’s the point? You eat, sleep, work and die. You work to eat, sleep to work, take some craps in between, and BOOM just like that it could all be over. So, why not just speed up the end result? All you’d have to do is fiddle with a few settings and you get what you want: sweet sweet bliss. That’s all I’m saying.
When I die, someone will have to carry this site on and continue being sad whilst sighing. But, promise me that when I’m all over, you take down my MySpace page. Because there’s no way in hell I want to be floating around in cyberspace and immortalized on MyDeathSpace.com.
Decrepit as fuck
Okay so here are two signs that prove I’m way too old for my own good:
1) This past weekend I went to a house party with an astro jump and got cramps whilst jumping, felt completely winded, and my legs were all weak and felt like they were getting shin splints. The keg of flowing beer did not help.
2) The only way to establish yourself as a dot com is to a) build up a collection of amateur porn and b) acquire a foosball table. We have both and therefore we are legit. Having said that, I’m ashamed to admit that I now have a bum elbow from an “intense” game of swinging armless men on poles. Seriously, how pathetic is it to get injured in a simulated game of soccer? It actually really hurts too. I must commend myself for playing injured, though I may have ruined my chances of going pro.
Beware ebay
My mother has recently discovered the joy of ebaying. Each day I come home expecting there to be a ginormous box of something my mother purchased from the online auction site. Usually, the boxes contain statues or dolls from various European designers/companies, and I am continuously berated and deemed an ignoramus for not knowing what a Hummel/Goebel doll is. So sue me.
 The other day my sister came over, and I went through the house showing her the numerous new editions to my mom’s collection. We stopped by the fireplace, and I noticed something that I hadn’t seen before. It was a porcelain container on a small stand with with a lid. The handles of the lid were anchored by small porcelain angels.Â
My sister prompty screamed in horror and said, “Oh my god, it’s an urn!”
What came first: the chicken or the depression?
An exerpt from an AIM conversation with my mother:
W: crissey next door said she would buy the refrig from me
l: who the hell is crissy
W: the piano teacher next door
l: oh she has a name?
l: i dont even know if i’ve ever seen her face
W: haha, sad*
Whoa whoa whoa. Now wait just one minute. When did my mom start saying “sad”? I started writing this entry while we were still chatting – and minutes later, she struck again!
W: that’s sad about today’s neighbors. You don’t have time to social
l: well you also dont really have an excuse to
l: b/c i used to play with the other neighbors
l: and so you kinda have to know the people who your child is going home with
W: sigh*, too late now
Sad! Sigh! I wanted to yell out, “Who taught you! Who taught you how to use this stuff?!” just so she could yell back, “I learned it from watching you!”
Oh, what parents pick up from their sad kids…or vice versa?
*bolded for emphasis.