|Rabid grannies in crash helmets
||[Apr. 13th, 2009|11:33 am]
There are some things that just make my fucking day. One of those things is when a tard runs by my store, wielding a cane and bellowing loudly, his screams echoing through the mall.
Some things do not. Like guys who gel their hair so heavily, that it sticks out in the front in five or six clumpy spikes and the rest is combed flat to the head, leaving grooves in tje gel that a japanese man could grind mountain yam on. Why are some people so interminably stuck in habits that make themselves look like cretins?
Graasaaaaaggghhhh I am so fucking tired today. I ate some mcdicks and now I want to shit. I wish I could just frolic and drink Christmas-in-July passion tea lemonade and play pokémon platinum in the sunshine. I need that intestine-shattering dose of caffeine post-haste.
Holy shit so freshest shit ever last night. Jare and I found a Thai place that delivers fucking bubble tea. I had a frosty taro tea brought to me from halfway across burnaby, accompanied by stellar red curry prawns and salad rolls. What a fucking age we live in.
Om nom nom.
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