|
|
|
|
I just want a pony, damnit.
|
|
I was thinking back on some of the funnier blogs I've seen on the front page here, and how even something that had the potential to be dull was rescued, in part, by the presence of a camera.
Yeah, I have this tiny, ancient, crappy digital camera -- not sure if it works with my laptop yet, but that's neither here nor there. Point of the matter is ... putting together my weedwhacker would actually be a lot more interesting if I had pictures. Come to think, the aftermath of my using a chainsaw would be much better -- you could all have shots of my left thigh, severed and gushing blood. I could photograph the EMTs' blood-splattered faces. I guess photographing the process of cleaning my saddle would amuse few, save MstrG (leeeaaather).
I could have photographed the amazing amount of stuff that my friends crammed into their tiny, one-bedroom apartment, and which we somehow managed to help them move (it took 3 days, total, to get everything down the stairs). I could have photographed our pro-wrestler-wannabe friend balancing their kitchen table on top of his head ("I have a really flat head," he said.).
You could have received before-and-after shots of my office during the annual chuck-and-clean event (I can see the floor now, and my dog no longer hops about all over my work.). That's not really fun, though, unless you count the fact that I did the initial cleaning while naked, to avoid having more laundry to deal with. Together, we could spy on the neighborhood kids (yay for Goatboy?) who try to set fire to things (petty arsonist shits). I could show you the look of terror on strangers' faces when I open the front door, and my dog tries to eat them. I only let her scare the evangelical types. Sometimes, they wander the neighborhoods, playing shit music on their guitars, while some of their buddies knock on doors to try to save our souls. I could have taken a picture of the weird-ass shit I took the other day.
Together, we could experience the joys of midgets with mullets who try to hitch rides. One looks like Richard Simmons, and also wears rainbow suspenders. I could show you just how poorly people drive here (stopping in INTERSECTIONS to check maps, deciding to suddenly turn in front of lanes of speeding traffic, etc.). We could all laugh at the ugly people who work in some of the offices on campus (i.e., the man/woman whose voice does not even help you determine what sex it is -- it has tits and stubble, and its voice alternates between male and female. It has a mullet as well.).
We could watch hummingbirds get drunk on my patio flowers. We could see who gets drunk enough to strip at the next party. We could catch bank robbers and other naughty people. We could become spies!
But, alas, these words will have to suffice.
|
|
|
|
|
