I have stopped typing three times to blow my nose.
I'm not sick, it's just my stupid allergies and I forgot to take my drugs before bed.
Then I got distracted by an article. Today I am not good with staying on task.
I left my USB plug for Slagathor in the rental car in LA so I have been listening to my Lincoln Durham CD the last two days. Hipster mustache aside, that motherfucker is a bad man, yo.
It's Thanksgiving.
Mom did that Ancestry.com shit and learned what I told her a long time ago: we beaners are mostly Native American. America being part of the entirety of the continent rather than this particular country.
Well, how was I supposed to know?
Have you ever looked in a mirror, mom? We aren't brown and flat headed because of our hint of Eurotrash genes.
Well, I have Italian and Spanish genes, too.
Yep, single digit percentage. Great-great-great-great-great-great-gramma got thrown down onto a hard, flat surface and forced to carry a Castilian baby and syphillis against her will.
You don't know that!
Right, she's related to you so she probably was all, 'aye, poppy chulo...'
You're not right!
But am I wrong?
Maybe now she'll finally stop hating her brown side.
I'm not a wetback, I'm Pocahontas!
You do know she was kind of a whore, right?
Titty sprinkles!
Seriously, bad motherfucker
