Archive for June, 2004

Pseudointellectual one-night stands

Shit dammit. I think I just became some girl’s intellectual tampon. (I’d google ya up a link, but it looks like I just invented this term. Similar concept to the emotional tampon, though.) Reminds me of that Fight Club quote about single-serving friends. Anyway, the entrails if y’all nerdy types wish to dissect them.

Ya, the bitch blocked me like a day-old plopup ad!

QOTD: Did I tell you about last Friday? [Bunch of people] and me were hanging out in Auburn at the coffee shop. * and * went off and I was ALONE (birds chirping) with * (the sun is now 12% more luminescent) and we played chess. Don’t stop me if I already told you this one…

Shaw’s: A little hilarity along the way

Yeah, so I was in Shaw’s today (or Shah’s, as these New Englanders call it) picking up the usual assortment of random bachelor-chow, and had just deterministically selected the fastest checkout line (pick the line full of fellow bachelors with their purchases pre-staged for loading, cash and credit cards already in hand; not the one full of check-writing old ladies fumbling for Triple Coupons in their oversized pursecases), when I hear a mix of “Come ‘ere you SON OF A BITCH” and “Sir, you need to CALM DOWN” accompanied by a streak streaking down the Frozen Stuff isle followed by another guy streaking after it, and a loud *CRASH* as they smash into a display and cans and shit fly everywhere. Oh great, I thought, another rage-a-holic going to smack his kid around in the supermarket. That’s when an older woman explained to calm-down guy that Streak #1 was a man who just stole her pocketbook…Streak #2 apparently caught him (unfortunately, I was still in line and couldn’t see down the aisle, and wouldn’t have been able to see much anyway through the huge gaper’s block that was forming) and kept him pinned long enough for a couple of the burlier Shaw’s employees to grab each of his arms and eventually haul him out the front door, where some cops had just appeared. What do you know? A 15-yr-old fat, white male saggy-pantsed gang banger wannabe. Wearing a hankerchief over his hair. (What is it with fat people wearing hankerchiefs over their hair? Not like a babushka or something, I mean an actual fucking nose-honking hankerchief.) This just made my day.

All I could think was….snickersnickersnickersnickersnicker…

QOTD: (Possibly-inexact translation of a South African saying) : With force, you can break your finger off in your ass. With patience, you can get it out again.