Welcome to ChaosMonkey's journal, where we ask the musical question: "Do You Like Horny Bunnies?"
I've got this class on spreadsheets now... just a little five-week thing, of which I missed the first week due to snow... It's called "spreadsheets," but it's really on Excel. My high school had extremely out-of-date computers until right before I graduated, so I learned Lotus 1 2 3 on an 8088. That's a fucking spreadsheet, man. I could figure out Excel in my sleep. But I can't sleep, 'cause the guy teaching it has about the loudest, most piercing voice I've ever heard. Remember when people had seizures from hearing Mary Hart on Entertainment Tonight? I feel kind of like that, only instead of a seizure this guy's voice makes me want to vomit. It's terrible. I'm sure he's an okay guy, but... he sounds like a more serious Hank Hill. So I've got three more weeks of this nauseating Mike Judge voice blaring at me. Wait, no. Eight weeks. I get to learn Microsoft Access, too. Fucking required classes...
17 days till Amelie gets here. I'm very excited, to put it mildly. All my friends are looking forward to finally meeting her. They're sure to like her; if they'll put up with me, she should be no problem. Unless dealing with two people like me just pushes them right over the fucking edge... which would be cool. It'll be more than good to see her. We're each pretty useless without the other, and it's getting no easier.
My mom bought a Popeil Kitchen Magician from the early 1970s in a second-hand store today, and I have to admit that it kicks much ass. She let me be the first to use it. We sacrificed an old potato. Nice, thin slices. I bet those fuckers will cook up nice and crispy. mmm, old kitchen wares.
I've got this class on spreadsheets now... just a little five-week thing, of which I missed the first week due to snow... It's called "spreadsheets," but it's really on Excel. My high school had extremely out-of-date computers until right before I graduated, so I learned Lotus 1 2 3 on an 8088. That's a fucking spreadsheet, man. I could figure out Excel in my sleep. But I can't sleep, 'cause the guy teaching it has about the loudest, most piercing voice I've ever heard. Remember when people had seizures from hearing Mary Hart on Entertainment Tonight? I feel kind of like that, only instead of a seizure this guy's voice makes me want to vomit. It's terrible. I'm sure he's an okay guy, but... he sounds like a more serious Hank Hill. So I've got three more weeks of this nauseating Mike Judge voice blaring at me. Wait, no. Eight weeks. I get to learn Microsoft Access, too. Fucking required classes...
17 days till Amelie gets here. I'm very excited, to put it mildly. All my friends are looking forward to finally meeting her. They're sure to like her; if they'll put up with me, she should be no problem. Unless dealing with two people like me just pushes them right over the fucking edge... which would be cool. It'll be more than good to see her. We're each pretty useless without the other, and it's getting no easier.
My mom bought a Popeil Kitchen Magician from the early 1970s in a second-hand store today, and I have to admit that it kicks much ass. She let me be the first to use it. We sacrificed an old potato. Nice, thin slices. I bet those fuckers will cook up nice and crispy. mmm, old kitchen wares.
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... may I see it?