Short reviews of pretty much whatever. Finally, you can discover if Frosted Flakes Gold has more social worth than Illmatic or Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare.
A Beer For Every State #5 - Mississippi
What, you want me to use iambs and rhymes and shit? This is poetry, man, it's not supposed to be work. Here's a description of a bird I once saw getting eaten by a smaller bird instead. Also, I don't even like using line breaks so now it's a prose poem.
You know spaghetti. It doesn't taste bad, but it doesn't taste especially good. Whenever Sarah and I can't come up with anything else to eat, or we want to make something that requires very little effort and is cheap, we make spaghetti with a jarred red sauce and ground turkey. With just a tiny bit more creativity (let's swap spaghetti noodles for gnocchi! how about adding spinach?) it wouldn't be quite so boring. But it also wouldn't be quite as easy. You know, like your mother.
As far as I'm concerned, the birth of Jesus, the pagan Solstice and the New Year are all celebrated the same way: by eating 5 meals a day and getting frequently and thoroughly drunk so I can stand--*cough* I mean, enjoy--the company of my extended family and in-laws. I tend to get into the festive mood around mid-December, and become serious again after January 17th (my birthday), which gives me just enough time to make a habit of living like a fucking pig. This year, I put the brakes on a little earlier due to the practical necessity of being able to fit into my clothes, but it's still gonna be a long, sweaty spring.
La-Z-Boy chairs are amazing. I don't find them all that good to sleep in because they hurt my back, and the gap between the footrest and the ass-pillow (what you Americans call a "seat") allows a draught to blow up under my blankie. I own 2 La-z-Boy chairs, one in Canada and one in Texas, both of which tend to make me so drowsy that I don't get any studying done at all. I intend to die in a La-z-Boy some day, hopefully of plain old age and not cancer or an asteroid collision, heroin overdose, or bear mauling. Getting mauled by a heroin addicted bear with cancer would be pretty awful too, although I guess I could take some solace in the fact that he wouldn't feel a thing.
Sleeping all day immediately after sleeping all night totally rocks. Sleeping all day and remembering to get up for lunch is just decadent. Shame? I don't know the meaning of the word.
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