Six easy steps

Emily tagged me, so I’m supposed to list six interesting things about myself. Except I don’t want to and, frankly, don’t think I could. So instead, I give you another stupid sixsome…

How to sing like Fergie, in six easy steps:

Hungry for food

1: Is that bad? Does that make me a bad person?
2: Nope. You’ll just go to hell. But I’ll be there too, so we can hang out.
1: Oh, okay, cool. I’ll bring Cheez-Its.
2: I’ll bring the polenta!
1: Mmmmm. Now I’m hungry for food. That was… redundant.
2: You could be hungry for love!!
1: Don’t remind me.

1 = me
2 = my polenta-lovin’ pal, Emily

Overweight hooker

The following instant message conversation is absurd. Enjoy.

1: So, how’s work going for you today?
2: full
1: Better full than empty, maybe?
2: better bobblehead snifter box
1: Um… was that just a random string of words?
2: marshall hibernate ovary snooze
1: I think you need a break.
2: garble ice cream overweight hooker!
1: I wish I could frame this conversation.
2: now you can
1: with iFrame
2: Is that real, or are you still crazy?
1: probably both

1 = me
2 = my good friend Michael

I just don’t know

I found this, partially written, in my inbox, sent from myself. I finished writing it, because it came back into play this weekend.

I think I’ve finally gotten to the heart of something. My dad and I have never quite seen eye to eye on a few issues, but one of them is certainly the path my life has taken and will from this point take. It seems like we always have the same argument — not to mean it’s a shouting match, but it’s definitely an uneasy disagreement — in which inevitably, I’ll get annoyed by his constant pressure (nagging) and he’ll get annoyed by my constant stalling (laziness). It wasn’t just nagging/laziness, though, and I think we both knew that. There was something more deeply rooted in each of us that was inherently contrary to the other. Then, when we were talking once, we hit the nail on the head.