I saw something sexy on the beach this morning. A gaggle of young chicks laying out reading actual books. I did not care what they were reading, just that they cared enough to engage in the exercise at all. It gave me hope. Reading is sexy. That's why I married a nerd.
By the way, if you are focused on the fact that I called them chicks instead of women, you are not a feminist, you are an asshat who gets easily tripped up over the inconsequential.
|No Parking signs in the ocean?|
I haven't been watching the news much lately. I don't really want to care about the world anymore, I just want to escape it mostly unscathed.
See, perkier than usual.
Hold please, I have to skip a song. Frank and I have a disconnect when it comes to Bruce Springsteen.
Okay, shitty song averted.
Apparently, my childhood imaginary friend is returning to theaters. Also, my childhood imaginary friend is turning forty. Holy shitballs.
For the five most recent readers who are wondering what the hell I am talking about, my childhood imaginary friend was Jaws. There is 8MM video of me talking to him and asking people to walk around him when I was a wee lad. It's all disgustingly adorable. Also, it's why I have an abnormal comfort whenever I am in the ocean. I have it in my head that the sharks will be all, dude, we have heard so much about you!
Pints of Guinness. I like this song. Nice redemption after that Springsteen debacle, Frank.
|Bonus picture because I am feeling particularly perky. You are welcome.|