August 17, 2013
Last night I went to my first bike party. Also spent the most time on a bike since I was one of those accursed freshmen in high school without a license. The bike party itself was fun, but I am currently finding the day after more amusing.
1)The hangover. I am a lightweight, so I spent this morning sitting on the couch with my dog, watching National Geographic and eating toast. But the more un-delightful day-after effect of the bike party is that my crotch is broken. I should have worn like 10 pairs of underwear and 3 maxi pads to this thing. Next time I will know to protect the jewels. Or whatever the vagina-equivalent is. My current crippled state begs the question, people do this professionally? My sympathies.
2)My parents’ commentary. They drove me to the starting location, and this morning they shared with me their thoughts on the gathered crowd.
Mom: “There was this really hoodie-looking guy.”
Hoodie-looking? Not from da hood or a hoodlum. Hoodie-looking.
Dad: “They looked like a bunch of gang-bangers. All they were missing were some teardrop tattoos to show how many people they had killed. Killed by running over them with their bikes and jumping up and down on them.”
So this is how the older generations sees us youths…
August 15, 2013
People of the world, I am unemployed. If you ever are in a similar situation, I suggest you take my advice and avoid the Craiglist “All Gigs” section. It will not make you feel too excited about your prospects.
So far what I am qualified for:
It’s in the back of his car, so it’s perfectly safe. This ad sparked the debate between me and L as to whether you had to caress your own feet, or if he wanted to be the one caressing. I’m not really sure which would be worse. On one hand, I think it would be difficult to think of 15 minutes worth of foot caressing activities. I’m not sure I have the imagination for all that. On the other hand, if he was doing the caressing you could pretty much just sit back and chill out for 15 minutes of psychological trauma. Worth 50 bucks? I’m not quite there. Yet.
Just kidding. Once again I am held back by not possessing a penis. Damn glass ceiling.
Not sure what this would entail. But I do have a driver’s license.
The only time I’ve ever wanted to look old enough to be someone’s mother. This smacks a bit too much of the plot of one of those “be careful what you wish for” movies. Im slightly concerned I’d have to get a magical chinese fortune cookie or pee in a fountain or whatever to turn back to my glamourous* youthful self.
*said with sarcasm. observe title of post.
Is this a real thing? I would think this was just a wife publicly taunting her husband, except that the ad has appeared several days in a row. I believe an adult Baby Huey does exist. Sweet, shy, docile, very feminine, in diapers, and impudent. Sounds like a bit of a complex personality.
Well that’s it. The job hunt continues. When did good old fashioned prostitution go out of style?
This is a cruel world.