Meh. Today, I see Slipknot, Death By Stereo, and Fear Factory at the Fillmore in denver. It is my intention that this activity not suck. Thanks to good ole expedia, we got some bitchin’ rooms that we shouldn’t be able to afford, the tickets were cheap, I got the days off, and I’m sober enough to dress myself and make my way over to my buddy’s house . . . . it’s almost too quiet.
In other news, I found out today that if you turn my BBQ all the way up, thinking to let it burn off like an oven, it gets hot enough to start to melt itself, and if I hadn’t been uncharacteristically reading on the front porch, it would have managed said activity unchecked, until the hose on the tank melted and open flame met lots of propane (and propane accesories) . . . which, I admit, would have caused a large, cool explosion, but there would have been a downside: It would have knocked down all the neighborhood zombies.
Also, my favorite cup, a green 48oz tumbler I stole from a local restaurant, has gone AWOL. I’ve looked all over my house, but the thing is nowhere to be found. What kind of person would spirit off a single, plain, green cup? All I can imagine is that somone simply broke it while I was in the bathroom, and then threw the pieces away.
WHOEVER DID THIS: I DON’T WANT TO GET YOU IN TROUBLE. I JUST WANT YOU TO COME FORWARD SO I CAN STOP LOOKING FOR MY BELOVED CUP AND GET SOME CLOSURE.
Also, the people that make the Splinter Cell games are either total tools, or far, far better then me at “stealh-espionage action,” because those babies are tough.
I shit in your cup because you wouldn’t come out of the bathroom. You’ll find it behind your house.
And thanks for not inviting me, assmaster.
Hahahaha. Have fun off on your little trip eh?
Awww. Sad. Mourning the cup.
Almost makes you wish you had blown up the neighborhood in a freaky grill explosion, huh?
Who. Took. My. Cup.
Meh, one of my housemates broke the lid to one of my casserole dishes right in front of me the other night. Now, it might just be the way I was brought up but I was taught to apologise and offer to replace. She did neither. I’m narked. If she doesn’t replace it automatically I shall be leaving her a Note.
I’m giggling like an idiot at the image of those poor neighbourhood zombies.. but yeesh, that’s a scary kinda BBQ trick.
Damn. I’m jealous. I wish I had no housemates