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Due to lukewarm demand, I've finally added commenting back to this sorry excuse for a website. No, no, no need thank me. I really did it for all the robots that are loading their spam cannons and firing up their thrusters in my direction. My enthusiasm for commenting is palapable, I know. It's downright contagious and expect y'all to catch the fever.
In other news, my site looks different. Again. I'm stuck on this color combination of black and orange because I must secretly long for Halloween. It's true, I hate dressing up in costume, children give me the hives and I don't believe in fun size candy bars (nothing fun about that size), but I LUV Halloween.
That's a horrible lie. I hate Halloween. I do like myself a lot, though, because all that stuff down there is me all over the interwebs. What I'm reading, what I'm photographing, what I'm spewing out on Twitter... It's all genius and I thought I should share it in one great place (that's this site!). So I guess you can thank me for that. Yes, you're welcome.
But the commenting feature... bleh.
Maybe it's just me, but having a cookout at an abandoned gas station doesn't sound like a good time. I don't have a broad sense of fun, though. I'm difficult, I know.
For real, though, why would anyone picnic in a parking lot, much less one that might have gasoline fumes and remnants laying about? And there's not just one grill, but two, plus coolers and other trays of food. This was a major shindig about to happen, but we didn't stick around for the impending explosion.
While waiting for the salmonella food poisoning to kick into my system today, the following happening to me (personally, even):
I couldn't park in my lot at work because of a FIRE! I saw the smoke as I was approaching the deck, but I pulled in anyway because I lack a brain sometimes. A woman waved her arms and told me to go away and to tell everybody I knew.
I reflected on the genius that is Eddie Izzard after having seen him last night. He's ridiculously funny and I think his various British accents help a lot. Some of his hijinks wouldn't sound the same. I ate some tomatoes at a restaurant before the show, but they were cooked so I think I'll be a-ok. If not, I'll be in the bathroom. And then the hospital.
I internally celebrated a major milestone in my countdown to ParisFest 2008! Just 50 more days until France has to deal with me again. Oh France... I apologize in advance.
I got an employee incentive (meaning: bonus) for being me! I also may have done some work. I'm not sure, but it's odd since I don't work in the private sector where bonuses are given out like candy on Halloween. Or so I've heard.
I've been wanting to try absinthe now that it's legal in the US again and I got my chance yesterday evening. I don't know what I was expecting, but after Cylinda turned into a leprechaun and my cup sang the Star Spangled Banner and blah, blah, blah. You know, after all the normal stuff, I found myself actually liking the taste. It smelled like licorice and it tasted like licorice but it felt like jet fuel. It was awesome.
I didn't get to louche it myself because the waitress said someone stole the slotted spoon, but I'm getting myself a bottle of Lucid very soon so I can get louched up whenever I want.
I like seeing Atlanta in the news, but not like this... I can't imagine what my office building looks like, but I'll see on Monday if my windows have been shattered like the Omni Hotel's.
When it comes to hot wings, lots of people think theirs is the best. I'm not here to argue; I don't have your taste buds and frankly, I don't want them. Really, keep your tongue to yourself. My point is...oh yeah, my favorite wings are the ones I make. Duh. Of course.
Well, I made a whole bunch last weekend in preparation for all the football game watching. And today, they're all still uneaten, sitting in the fridge. Why? An emergency room visit, clear liquid diet, bland (flavorless) food diet, a doctor's visit and medication kinda all got in the way.
Why? (you ask again because you care, don't you?) Because I tried to be good and eat some damn tofu on Saturday night. Stupid tofu, that's why. I hate tofu. I've resisted it all my life. I've never willingly chose it before and after this, I never will again. One chance you had there, tofu, and you royally f'ed it up.
Nice. You send me to the ER and you keep my from my beloved wings. You're on the list now. You know the list; the one that includes...water chestnuts. Oh yes, THAT list.
