Damn son, I just got a friend request from a gal on Facebook, immediately followed by an apology message (from the same broad) saying “Whoops! Never mind. I thought you were someone else.”
Except I sure-as-deoderized-armpits know this lassie!
Where do I even proceed from here?
(I mean besides writing about it on the Internet.)
Also another failure on the life front. I have targeted one of the baristas at my sometimes-frequented coffee establishment as a consistent maker of subpar beverage concoctions. So whenever he’s on deck for making my dairy doozy, I make a mental note to taste it for tastiness (or lack thereof) before I leave the premises.
Today, he was onboard. I tried the proffered elixir, and it tasted like brown water with old pepper in it.
So what did I do?!? One would’ve hoped I asked for an immediate rematch, no questions asked.
Instead, I just walked away. Because I hate getting people in trouble.
Worst story ever. For everyone involved. Except maybe Mr. Barista. He also kept yelling “I’ll get it!” for everyone’s orders as if he were saving the day. Emphasis on “as if”.
It ain’t right. The coffee, I mean.
photo courtesy of Flickr and terin.
In conclusion, Facebook live status updates are bordering on wretched. As much as I’d love to hear what everyone is doing at every moment of the day, no, I actually don’t.
In fact, the worst happened recently to a friend of mine. She met someone at a party, and was immediately friended on Facebook at the very same party (because this person had one of those devious devices known as a Crackberry/iPhony), but then she and him ended up having a somewhat heated argument/discussion at the very same party, and she realized she didn’t even like this person very much. So now she has to read about what he’s doing all day because he wants to make sure people stay updated, and the circle of festering annoyance, as yet, remains unbroken.
(Moral: Make new friends, but not on Facebook. Not right away anyway. This is advice everyone will never take.)
She’s the only one who doesn’t seem to mind the status updates.
photo courtesy of Flickr and Sorosh
Literally, funny money.
[thanks for the tip, bro-Ham!]
update my mom!
i got my car back as good as new-ish (sort of, not really). my little starburetor and all! and guess what? apparently, the car’s transmission went ‘adios and peace be unto you, my bipedal mother’ because of rough-handling.
yes! you heard right.
i was, in no uncertain terms, accused of abuse! me! the concerned parent figure! waiting at home biting off my nails and wondering where i went wrong!
now i know how parents feel when something happens to their children, and they are suddenly accused of bad parenting. this is the media’s fault. as if i could even imagine hurting my little motoroller.
granted, i treat potholes like an excuse to fly and sometimes i forget i’m driving mere metal and scrap, and i consider the possibility of bonnie and clyde-ing it into some grand sunset. BUT CAMMAN. take all the joy out of joyride while you’re at it, auto mechanic!
i’m not a driver, i just play one occasionally.
photo courtesy of Flickr and dao hodac
so now social services (i.e., parents) is monitoring my drivage for signs of physical and emotional scarring to car. and i cringe every single time i hit a rough spot on the road, of which there are many, urban developers!
in brighter but scarier news, hello-ween!
i’m dressed down because i’m protesting dressing “up” but also i’m dressed as someone unemployed. a big ironic slap on the back to this whole JOB thing. i’m in full PJs and bedhead, and i’m carrying one remote control, one set of circled job ads (i tried to circle complete opposites like senior account manager…auto mechanic…dancer…though i know my subtlety will go lost on a holiday that gets most excited over wigs) and a xeroxed copy of my bachelor’s degree. costume contest at 2pm. i predict an unfair loss again. no chance of winning when there are group costumes on the loose. however, i’m also acting the part! so that should count for something. mad props at least.
here’s my favorite costume i’ve seen this year: a replica of Magritte’s “The Son of Man”
presenting my friend chris:
in finality, i saw this tiny tot being strolled around this morning by his mom, and he was waving at these construction workers like they were his future prospects (mainly a food, a nap, coddling). “HIiiiiiiiiiiiiii” and “Hellllllllo” and smiley eyes and rosy cheeks and welcoming demeanor and all kinds of social skills that i’m still developing.