i just discovered google earth and looked all over the only two countries i've ever heard of. there weren't any high-resolution views of onyati, but i did find the house i lived in during my training in okaku:
Some fluffy girl i know filled in the favorite quotes portion of her Facebook profile with, "Coincidence is God's way of creating miracles anonymously." I left my own favorite quote as a comment on her page: "War is god's way of teaching Americans about geography." She deleted it:
Douche, pronounced like douche. I wrote back to ask permission to join her circle jerk of church, that god is an exclusively Christian concept. I'm sure the email would've been funny had she or another Christian sent it.
Sorry I had to delete your comment. Maybe it would have been funny if I said it or someone else I know who is actually a Christian and just messing around. Just letting you know
Douche, pronounced like douche. I wrote back to ask permission to join her circle jerk of church, that god is an exclusively Christian concept. I'm sure the email would've been funny had she or another Christian sent it.
Advertising isn’t much in the way of a noble enterprise in that its general intent is to separate you from the money you never have when it’s time to pay rent, the visa bill, or yr pimp. I suppose it’s not all nefarious: there are doctors and other legitimate service providers that must announce their existence to the general public, and I can’t really fault the small-business owner for sticking flyers on the windshields of the cars that line my street, but there’s a line that’s crossed when advertisers begin appealing to our base instincts, when they define artificial necessity by enabling our belief in individuality and the right to own everything. I think of this every time I see one of those adverts pasted to the side of a bus claiming Chicago’s 1-0-something-point-something FM is the soundtrack of our lives. That’s fucking witty, non? Who had that deep thought? I think it was Dick Clark, though I only say so b/c I saw the quote attributed to him in a Michael Moore movie, so it probably isn’t true. But it is written on the wall of his restaurant in some over-sized mall in Michigan, and even if he didn’t say it, he’s a douche for trying to pass it off as his. I don’t mind the plagiarism, but “music is the soundtrack of our lives”? That’s so dull, trite, and exactly the reason 30 million-plus ppl waste however much it costs to phone in a vote to American Idol. Hey, listen, it’s the soundtrack of our lives… If my life was a movie, this would so be on the soundtrack… This song reminds me of summer camp; it’s so like the soundtrack of my life…
The reason I hate the fucking phrase is (1) it’s not creative; (2) it’s fucking stooped; (3) I could shit something more creative, and I’m not very creative aside from making excuses about my unemployment; (4) it’s fooken stupid; (5) ppl who buy into music as the soundtrack of our lives generally listen to music that makes me want to stab myself in the face, or at least the ears, meaning I couldn’t listen to the music on the actual soundtrack of my life; (6) it’s really, really, RILLY, really fooken stoopid; (7) ppl don’t need any more encouragement to think of themselves in some sort of Truman Show; and (8) it doesn’t so much inspire me to buy a radio and listen to 1-0-something-point-something FM as it does to treat the more mundane moments in my day as possible drama: Ooh, I missed my bus and have to wait ten minutes for the next one; I better find some emo song on my iPod to articulate the pain. Oh, and (9) it took a douche to write that platitude and it took a douche to approve its use, and douche + douche = douche team. I hate whatever sport it is they play.
The reason I hate the fucking phrase is (1) it’s not creative; (2) it’s fucking stooped; (3) I could shit something more creative, and I’m not very creative aside from making excuses about my unemployment; (4) it’s fooken stupid; (5) ppl who buy into music as the soundtrack of our lives generally listen to music that makes me want to stab myself in the face, or at least the ears, meaning I couldn’t listen to the music on the actual soundtrack of my life; (6) it’s really, really, RILLY, really fooken stoopid; (7) ppl don’t need any more encouragement to think of themselves in some sort of Truman Show; and (8) it doesn’t so much inspire me to buy a radio and listen to 1-0-something-point-something FM as it does to treat the more mundane moments in my day as possible drama: Ooh, I missed my bus and have to wait ten minutes for the next one; I better find some emo song on my iPod to articulate the pain. Oh, and (9) it took a douche to write that platitude and it took a douche to approve its use, and douche + douche = douche team. I hate whatever sport it is they play.
my neighbors were out on their stoop enjoying a friday-evening glass of wine when i passed by after finising my run, which was the pretense for the chat we had about other forms of exercise. one of them suggested bikram yoga, which i confused with bhakti just before launching into a what the fuck does loving devotion have to do with physical fitness episode. then i remembered who bikram was, and i asked, isn't that the wanker trying to copyright 9000-year-old yoga positions?
-yeah. my husband's his lawyer, and he owns two bikram studios.
-oh, can i join for free?
-yeah. my husband's his lawyer, and he owns two bikram studios.
-oh, can i join for free?
it just occured to me that barack osama's (or is it ba-lack obama?) presidential campaign is my senator. i'm well aware that i live in chicago, but the thought never occured to me, aside from rifling through my sufjan collection, that i'm a resident of illinois. i suppose i should watch more fox news so i don't accidently vote for the half-white guy next year, eh.
my sweet, pretty maggie is quite precocious, so much so that she can feign skepticism about the line of bullshite stephen hawking is feeding her off-camera. i suppose the fact my mum has to carry her around detracts from the claims i make about her intellect, but it's not like stephen hawking can walk, either. touché, pronounced like douche; douche, pronounced like touché.
