microsoft = evil conglomeration of money and power!
if you translate the words "product activation key" into swahili and rearrange the letters of the result, it reads: "bill gates likes to wrap himself naked in cellophane while laughing his way to the bank with your hard-earned mean green." I SWEAR.
so, uhm. poopy.
went to the curiosa festival on friday. expectations are a bitch. i have a feeling that a 3/4 empty seated pavillion in columbia, maryland in daylight was just not the proper setting for a mogwai sandwich. nor was it the right bill. i wanted to pimp slap the muhfugga that screamed "mogwai sucks" two rows back. at least it was during "like herod", so perhaps the aural assault deafened the bastige. muse was incredible and fun. i fell in love. in more ways than one.
in many ways i am still that awkward and painfully shy little boy in middle school. sigh. so i've been justifying to myself all weekend long that she was either too young, too *insert lame condition*, or just not interested. i mean, that whole locking eyes for 10 seconds thing is a myth, right? she probably wasn't interested, i was (and am still) living in a delusion. but damn. it's all in the eyes for me.
i can think of quite a few things that i'd like to make available to her.
the cure was exactly what i expected. tragic, whiny, and well, kinda boring. "bob" smith (as i heard adoring and drooling fans refer to him as) is getting old and fat. and sheesh-ush, man, ain't you over her yet, bob? is it really that bad, buddy? how old are you now? i can honestly say that bobby boy has notta thing that i want. i'm beginning to feel that the cure should really be named the placebo.
irony runs deep:
muse ( P ) Pronunciation Key (myz)
v. mused, musing, muses
v. intr.
To be absorbed in one's thoughts; engage in meditation.
she was beautifully distracting. sigh. i guess i need to follow directions and change the subject.
if you translate the words "product activation key" into swahili and rearrange the letters of the result, it reads: "bill gates likes to wrap himself naked in cellophane while laughing his way to the bank with your hard-earned mean green." I SWEAR.
so, uhm. poopy.
went to the curiosa festival on friday. expectations are a bitch. i have a feeling that a 3/4 empty seated pavillion in columbia, maryland in daylight was just not the proper setting for a mogwai sandwich. nor was it the right bill. i wanted to pimp slap the muhfugga that screamed "mogwai sucks" two rows back. at least it was during "like herod", so perhaps the aural assault deafened the bastige. muse was incredible and fun. i fell in love. in more ways than one.
in many ways i am still that awkward and painfully shy little boy in middle school. sigh. so i've been justifying to myself all weekend long that she was either too young, too *insert lame condition*, or just not interested. i mean, that whole locking eyes for 10 seconds thing is a myth, right? she probably wasn't interested, i was (and am still) living in a delusion. but damn. it's all in the eyes for me.
i can think of quite a few things that i'd like to make available to her.
the cure was exactly what i expected. tragic, whiny, and well, kinda boring. "bob" smith (as i heard adoring and drooling fans refer to him as) is getting old and fat. and sheesh-ush, man, ain't you over her yet, bob? is it really that bad, buddy? how old are you now? i can honestly say that bobby boy has notta thing that i want. i'm beginning to feel that the cure should really be named the placebo.
irony runs deep:
muse ( P ) Pronunciation Key (myz)
v. mused, musing, muses
v. intr.
To be absorbed in one's thoughts; engage in meditation.
she was beautifully distracting. sigh. i guess i need to follow directions and change the subject.
...you and the girl at the concession stand must have really connected! It's funny how when they say "One $13 soft pretzel, comin' right up"... I hear: "I want you to fuck me RIGHT now on this counter covered in mustard and ketchup!!"