May 2012
thursday morning coffee.
I wrote what might possibly be the final rent check of my life this morning, which could only mean one thing: I’ve become a full-fledged, home-owning grown-up.
oh and that I still write checks for things.
good morning.
friday morning coffee.
wherein yours truly heads to the mitten for more family activities than a Sunday morning on a polygamist compound.
oh, and some J-E-T-S JETS JETS JETS.
good morning. and happy fucking Friday, y’allz.
thursday morning sex juice.
T/F: I’ve spent the better part of the last 24 hours listening to D’Angelo.
gooooood morning, playaz.
tuesday morning coffee.
forever the one-percenter loyalist, yours truly and my very pretty, very rich and very better-than-you friends and spouse are celebrating the end of the NATO summit by spending the evening on a privately chartered sailboat wherein we’ll discuss the trailer for The Master, expensive cheeses (specifically, Caciocavallo Podolico), and last week’s Mad Men.
why? because fuck you,...
monday morning coffee
my day today can best be described as “playing Kiss covers, beautiful and stoned.”
good morning, loverz.
saturday afternoon sodaz
it’s a beautiful fucking day in Chicago and the Tigers are about to come on and I still know all of the words from the last verse of “Slam” by Onyx and life is just simply too beautiful for words.
except my own.
LUV U ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
friday morning coffee.
I went to the dentist the other day for my 6 month scoldfest checkup. and since I have become an avid flosser in my old age, they’ve needed to find something new to bitch about upon each visit.
this time around I was criticized for “brushing too hard.” their proposed solution? start brushing with your non-dominent hand. needless to say, I couldn’t help but think of this...
thursday morning coffee.
that feeling you get when you leave for the office (or anywhere, really) convinced you forgot something. that was yours truly this morning.
luckily I do some of my best work sans underwear.
good morning.
seriously
you guys need to stop listening to so much Hoobastank.
as you were.
it's future rust
and it’s future dust.
ron
he was a friend of a friend, another warm body needed to fill the male quota. he was also the only dude on our team with less athletic skill than myself, so I liked him from the start. the fact that he was a genuinely nice guy didn’t hurt his cause.
our first season - freshman year - he managed to fuck up zero times while not making any significant contribution to the team. this is no...
all I care about is Jeremy Sisto's hobo clown...
spaceman
when my ashes are spread across Empire Polo Fields in the year 20**, I want Spiritualized’s “So Long You Pretty Thing” playing on an endless loop.
related: I wept like a fucking baby during their rendition of said song at last week’s Metro performance.
I’m such a beautiful cliché.
may the overdone nerd jokes be with you
