Every time I get sick, I make soup. And every time I make soup, I watch it congeal in the fridge for several days because I don’t like soup.
March 2010
21 posts
Breakfast? Mac & cheese and a mocha. I’m self-diagnosing lactose insistence.
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The level of dust in the air today suggests that they’re building a whole new Shanghai on the rubble of the old one. The cat is wheezing.
I think it’s fair to assume that I would have a larger web presence if I didn’t hang out so much with @gperez.
D. W. Washburn
The Monkees
To anyone who’s been startled by the change in mood from “Nine Times Blue” to “Tear the Top Right off of My Head” in the Monkees’ _Listen to the Band_ compilation disk 3: I totally feel you, dog.
Here’s another completely ridiculous song. Cover your ears, it’s “D.W. Washburn” (I heard a sweet voice say-eh).
Lady, you are not doing yourself any favors by wearing a better looking chick across your chest.
I like when I’m mistaken for being French. It’s like trying on clothes in a skinny mirror.
My CTBS tests 30 years ago did not prepare me for coming in fucking fifth on trivia night.
Watching _The Song Remains the Same_ leaves me ROFL at DJ’s.
I can’t be the only one who thinks Avatar is a glorified black light poster.
My phone corrected “tru nuff” to “try muff.” It’s a total lez.
