two dolla

a list and 2 sidenotes

Things I saw after I turned my computer off at work and headed down the elevator until just right now:

1. A co-worker leaning into the back window of his VW Passat while cleaning safety glass out. Someone was ballsy enough to punch in the window in the middle of the afternoon while it was parked in an open parking lot right smack dab in the middle of Minneapolis.
2. Two cop cars and a bomb squad truck parked in front of the downtown Minneapolis library.
3. The stoners three blocks down playing hackey sack in their front yard and attempting to involve their wheelchair-bound friend, but instead it looked like they were just beaning her in the head over and over.
4. Myself cutting up raw chicken, which ended up in the most delicious stir fry I think I’ve ever eaten, made ever so lovingly by The General™.
5. A total drug deal going down at 34th and Emerson. The guy in the car that was handing of said drugs asked if Riley was a pit bull. NO, JACKHOLE, HE’S A DRUG SNIFFING DOG, SO WATCH OUT.
6. A seriously crazy lady meeting us head on our post-dinner 2.25 mile walk, who asked Riley to sit (which he did) and then lay down (and instead he tried shaking her hand). Then she handed The General and I an apartment rental magazine.
7. And now it’s pretty much just my computer screen, my fat, tired, white dog sleeping on the couch, and the glow of The General’s laptop.

SIDENOTE: I quit drinking caffeine last Thursday. I just kept forgetting to bring change into work to get pop out of the vending machine, and figured why the hell not just quit worrying about it. As a result, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost eight pounds. I’m currently trying to break my juice habit, too, but holy Christ on a cracker, I could live on nothing but juice and Little Debbie snacks.

SIDENOTE.2: The General quit smoking last Thursday. The quitting of our vices on the exact same day was not at all planned, but it worked out that way. We now own stock in Tootsie Roll pops, but I’d rather find sucker sticks laying all around then make out with an ashtray. Sorry, baby. ;)

gas followed by mass

The General™ and I just returned home from a lovely Saturday night date that included a trip to the dog park, followed by a romantical (in the words of Flavor Flav) dinner at Denny’s on Lake Street in Minneapolis. We know how to live it up with the rest of them.

After we left, we were strolling down the street and I farted. Loudly. And I apparently looked at The General™ and made a face as if I were grunting, which was completely unintentional. It’s possible it was a very loud fart, but hi – it’s been almost two months, so it was bound to happen. Plus, The General™ has not only farted on my living room floor, but also ON MY LEG WHILE WE WERE SITTING ON THE COUCH (and was allegedly sick at the time). So, we’re kind of even.

This led to a discussion about how sometimes it’s possible to accidentally let out a little dookie while you’re passing gas. Or, as the awesome Urban Dictionary says, gas followed by mass.

It’s possible this may have happened to me while walking back to work from lunch in the not so distant past. Luckily, I hadn’t unpacked my camping gear, so I had an extra pair of drawers in the back of my car. I swapped out the sharty bloomers for the nice clean ones and all was well.

But I know I’m not the only one that’s had that happen. Right? RIGHT?

spaced on that again

I just got hit with the hosting bill for my secondary hosting account yesterday – just about an entire month after I wrote about my need to move everything over. Clearly I’m good at procrastinating… and for once not giving a ballsack about the internet for a whole month. That’s kinda bonus.

Sometimes I feel like I want to be a professional in the whole web hosting reviews field, mainly because I think it’s really important if someone knows how crappy a particular web host’s customer service might be before signing up. Neither my current host or the one I’m trying to finish moving away from ranks in the top 10. I hope that’s not a sign of things to come… Next time, I’ll absolutely do some more investigating.

pre-independence day list

This is the first 4th of July weekend I’ve remained in the Twin Cities since moving here. I’m usually in Milwaukee whooping it up at Summerfest. I was just talking to The General™, explaining how the first time we went to Summerfest must have been 2002. If my external hard drive was up and running, I’d absolutely post the picture that I have stuck in my head right now, where Rick was carrying Brooke down the streets of downtown Milwaukee while Derek and I laughed our asses off. And since then, there’s been two babies and a third one on the way, Derek’s gotten married, and holy crap, all of a sudden we’re complete grownups.

And speaking of complete grownups, I had fruit for lunch today, along with my peanut butter and strawberry preserves sandwich and Oatmeal Creme Pie. And by fruit, I mean an entire pint of watermelon. One of my job duties includes interviewing. Interviewing someone isn’t really something you should do after consuming that much fruit when your body hasn’t seen that much fruit in a very, very, very long time. I, honest to God, had to excuse myself mid-way through the interview so I could poop. I AM NOT KIDDING. I didn’t really say, “Excuse me, but I have to poop”, but it was still embarassing.

We have absolutely no plans this weekend at all. Like none. There’s a possible boxer meet up on Saturday (shut up! It’s nerdy, but awesome!) and a drag show later that evening that we’ve been talking about since we’re both in the midst of a BROMANCE with Johnny Lightning. And I have to go into work on Sunday for a couple of hours, but you know what makes up for that? The fact that I get to leave next Friday at least an hour early. Working until 6 p.m. usually isn’t that big of a deal. Except on Fridays. And then it sucks donkey balls.

I was just reminded that the Spam Jamboree is going on this weekend. I can’t explain it, but I have an unhealthy need to go. The idea of going to The General’s™ hometown is slightly daunting, but the idea of a 5K HOG JOG kinda makes up for it.

nearly failed on day 2

This evening I accidentally found a bunch of people (okay one) person that I work with on a somewhat regular basis at my job on the internet. And you know what that means? I had to obsessively stalk this partciular person in every single way possible: Twitter, Flickr, oh you name it and I stalked it. I feel dirty, but also I feel like I totally want to be BFF with said person!

And that’s why this is all of the post you get tonight. I have more stalking to do.

And The General™ is getting buck ass naked right next to me. So, yeah.

i ain’t pushin’ nothing up!

When I got home from the Lynx game tonight (courtesy of Erica), I had a vision. Not necessarily a Vision of Love (yes, that is a Mariah Carey reference), but more of a vision of me actually updating this God-fearin’ thing I call a blog every day this month. I figure since my Dear Ol’ ‘Cuz is doing it, I should do it too.

But then I got home, made dinner, and had no desire to move from the couch where The General™ (self-appointed nickname, which is short for General BabyArm) took up one end working on a job hunt from the Mac laptop that I am jealous of and I managed to lay across the whole thing while I digested the carrots we bought last night and watched last night’s episode of American Gladiators.

I kept falling asleep during Hang Tough and didn’t feel like I’d be giving Hulk Hogan and Laila Ali all that much respect by sleeping during the ELIMINATOR. I whined about not having anything to post about, but wouldn’t you know I’ve managed to ramble on for three whole paragraphs, which I fully believe constitutes a post.

Now it’s a quarter after 11 and The General™ is trying to get me to do a push up. I think it’s bed time.