Lost Love Lust

Tuesday.

- I’ve never really understood the concept of being able to go out in public in a bathing suit, but if you walk out in a bra and underwear, it is frowned upon.

- You know that moment when somebody is talking to you, but you just feel like saying:
“Yeah, honestly, I don’t give a fuck about what you’re telling me.”
I refrain from those moments 90% of the time.

- Cake has never tasted better at 1:02 in the morning.
I hope my trainer gets clogged arteries.

- Humans are attention seeking whores. The mere existence of bumper stickers is inexplicable proof of my indignation.

- Waffles. Waffles are good. I eat them every 8-10 months.

- When asked about how Didi from Dexter’s Laboratory managed to be Dexter’s sister although they were not alike, I answered:
“Didi was a crack whore at the age of 5 and was taken in by crazy yellow gloves lady, otherwise known as Dexter’s mother, afterwards realizing that crack whores could be reformed, she disciplined her son dexter into contemplating a solution to world famine. The end.”

- Today, I saw a crustaceous shrimp in an aquarium. I automatically  imagined him in a tuxedo and thought his name should be Francois. The things creativity can do to a person.

- A typical declaration made by me in conversations will now commence:
“So anyway, this Charles Manson man brainwashed his women by giving them LCD.”
LCD? You mean LSD, Diana.
Uh Yes.
LSD, I mean. 

- In a mine field, I would like to play hide and seek. Go out with a boom, aye?

- Whatever happened to A/S/L? Did a twitter bird come to its home and murder it profusely with an axe of mass proportions?

- So if two people meet on Myspace, is their offspring stamped with a
“Made In Myspace” emblem?
I cannot help but wonder.

- Dust settles on an object, right after you wipe it off.
Does that mean that during the course of our sleep cycle we too collect dust?
Is that not a bit eery to imagine?
Our sleeping selves covered in dust as if ages passed and time ceased to exist.
Good lord, I need a yogurt. 

- Till another time, my petunia poppies.