The Richmond sister chapter

It's a sad, sad, drunken curse upon the Mets

Boring dream

Sooo, last night I had this dream.  I know how that sounds, but listen for one second (i guess).

I was sprinting down a grass hill as fast as I could possibly muster.  But, everytime someone pushed themselves in my way.... I could magically sidestep my way out of hitting them.  It was... ugh... awesome!  I woke up with a headache.  When I say "headache" I'm describing the feeling of wearing a crown of kebabs.  Turning the hot water on in my shower almost made me throw up.  All I could think (and it was ridiculous to even try to think ) was fuck Barry Sanders!  Honestly, fuck him!  Every boy as a child wants to fly, but just think about running as fast as you can (and I mean as fast as you possibly can!) and having the inhuman ability to instantly shift your weight to the side instinctually.  My dream (every little fucker's dream: flying) seemed, sorta boring.   Honestly, flying seems kind of crappy.  Just fluttering your fat arms in the air trying to make you float faster.  So if you are somehow a part of the small segment of the population that wakes up with super-human running speed, I envy you.  You possess the most human of all super-human powers.  Run fucker, run!!!  I wish I could and I cannot reiterate this enough... eat more tacos!  It only bolsters your god given abilities.

By the way, I'm pretty sure God is a fake person, but if it helps your sprinting...  BELIEVE!!!

Love,

Andrew

P.S. You are pure and cock facing fast!

I'm upset

I watch hockey.  I'm from Virginia.  I like the Washington Capitals.  They lost.  I'm upset.  I made a design for a t-shirt supporting them.  The image above is it, slightly off center.. but whatever.  I hate Philadelphia and their Flyers.

On an unrelated side note, I've lived in New York for a few years now and just recently had my first good slice of pizza.  However, this slice of pie was made in the least likely of places... West Orange, New Jersey.  I'm not sure what that really means, but I think that it means that New Yorkers make crappy pizza.  Please prove me wrong.

Follow up

God bless New Jersey and their transit!!  What's better than getting home from work at nine at night?

Answer: Everything

Here lies a really tiny picture of a train.  Yeah!

 

Butter!!!

Friday hate

The weekend is here, I'm free to ignore emails, the weather is coming around, the Mets won. Simply, I'm as happy as I could be.  I just wanted to express a pet peeve of mine (that anyone that knows me is sick of hearing about).  Sooooo, here it is.  

Do you live off of the Lorimer stop on the L?

If so, how do you get to the street level once you exit the train?

If you answered "through the emergency doors"... I really hate you and want to trip you on your way up to your apartment, that is probably fancier than mine.

(I had a stupid little illustration to post that doesn't much help my cause, but I can't figure out how to make it viewable).

At any rate, do you ever get off of the subway.. walk up the stairs.. push the emergency door... and hear a loud alarm?

Oh yeah!  That alarm marks the beginning of your lazy, shitty life!

Is it really an emergency that you get home and decide where you would like to eat goat cheese for the night?  Please take the time to walk three steps to your left.

A general rule would be the following:

 If you push  a door open and an alarm rings out... you went the wrong way.  I've seriously seen people wait in front of the emergency door for someone else to make the first step.  You people chew away at my soul.  As a child my mom always warned me that "people that take the two second short-cut getting out of the subway" are giant pieces of shit.  She was right... really right.

Everyone has had an awful job in their life, and every single one of those jobs was accompanied by a single act by selfish people that made you want to burn down a village.  That act is you trudging up the stairs in your cowboy boots, shoving open the alarm door with your fingerless gloves, and emerging into the sunlight only to realize that your cell phone still needs a couple of minutes to establish a connection.  Please take the time to push your way through those turny things before you go home to your little paradise.  And, grab a tinga taco on your way home.

Love, 

Andrew

Happy Hour Wednesday #1 March 2008!!!

First legitimate post.

I have been drinking, and the following is a summary of my current feelings towards different.. stuff?

( side note -- every little thing in the world becomes smaller and more/less? despicable, the more it is referred to as "stuff" or "things".   So, my current favorite "things" are the following:

 -approachable metal

 -tacos

 -bad netflix

 -online spending

But don't get upset if your nerd hobbies were ignored... this is "stuff" that I hate and kinda wanna stab:

 - SNY

 - Disguised club music

 - Cotton

 - Variant covers

 - Schools for gifted youngsters

Most importantly, this post is an advertisement for one thing, and one thing alone..  Happy Hour Wednesdays!

All questions are easily answered with three words -- happy, hour, wednesday 

It's the middle of the week, go to Bushwick and enjoy the stinky fruit of America's labor. 

Now, I find an image that bears little resemblance to my actual state of mind and post it: