I blog. About life.

Category: Gif

People I want to falcon punch:

Sorry, bromances about my non existence. I had oral surgery (heh, oral), and basically tried to die in the process. Dr. couldn’t get me to stop bleeding, got 8 stitches went home, still wouldn’t stop bleeding, had to go back in. Took the eight out and put ten more back in. Went back in a week to take the stitches out, started bleeding again, had to put five back in. Went back in a week, got AWL the stitches out…. got an infection. Bah, but, I’m all better and settled now.

In my angst of being spaced out on percocet, I had some time to think about shit that I hate. So, here’s my short, lovely message of things I’d love to falcon punch.

Preface: in case you’re unaware of what exactly a  falcon punch is.

1. That asshole who can’t drive… but who always seems to be in front of you. Seriously dude, I have places to go and shit to do. MOVE!

2. People in the gym who moan their workout into oblivion. This isn’t sex, I’m just trying to get my bod on. Please stop groaning at me.

3. Families who take the entire hoard to the grocery store. Lady, move your fucking cart and control your kids.I want some cheetos.

4. The “I’m drunk” whore at the bar. You’re still not sexy.

5. Close talkers. Your breath is bad.

6. Elevator/airplane farters.

7. Salespeople in retail stores. I don’t want to smell like old lady, desperate douche-bag, or cheap whore. I’m not interested in your discount card, I don’t want to hear about the new sale, and I don’t want to be a member. I want to get out of here with my cheetos.

Gotta Nom!

So I was routing around for some snaffels in the store today and I noticed that there were a lot of “party sized” snack foods sitting around. You know, the super-grando-walrus-endorsed-butter-approved sized portions. Like 2 1/2 pounds bags of candy. The problem at hand?

We all know the vast majority of these “party sized” portions aren’t serving a party…

A little sketch from my blog

But, I’ll be real with you, ‘Murica. We have a problem.

Now, don’t get me wrong I did get me some of those delectable…delicious…bits of joy and happiness wrapped in colorful unicorn paper. Not necessarily the jumbo sized, but noms enough to make me happeh… until they were gone.

My desire for the “party sized” bag of candy, all for myself. AWL MYNE!!11!!one!!    Left me wondering…  what am I becoming?

My apocalyptic dinner.

So, I’m not sure if you’ve ever been asked this question as an icebreaker before, but since I worked as an RA (resident assistant) at the university for three years, I’ve heard it a few times:

“If you were about to die, but you could have dinner with anybody you chose (live or dead), who would you have dinner with? You may only have room at the table for eight people.”

There’s one answer that I think is poorly thought out: religious figures. Aka: Jesus/Vishnu/Mohammad

Like, what if “said religious person” wasn’t the entity that modern religion made them out to be, wouldn’t that be an awkward turtle?

Issue number two: if your religion proves to be the correct one in the afterlife, this entity is the one you’re going to have to spend lunch/dinner with for the rest of your deadness.

But, I get it, some people are religious. I can respect that.

My religion is internet.

not joking

Thusly, here are my (epic) eight:

1. Shocantelle Brown

2. Lorraine

3. Carol Beer

4. Tracy

5. Ken Lee

6. Diana    — this is original Diana for those who don’t know her awesome.

7. Bon qui qui

8. Ms. Swan

Pure win.

Those sitting at the kiddie table (honorable mentions):

1. Blueberry

2. Dog girl

3. Wilfred

Who would be your eight?