Of course, this brought on a mighty interwebs shit storm because NOW WHO DO I TELL THAT I JUST PAINTED MY TOE NAILS A WONDERFUL SHADE OF KISS ME PINK? And ZOMG JUST TOTES WINKED AT THE CUTE DELIVERY BOY LOLZZZZ.
But I missed all of this because I was, oh I dunno, WORKING MY ASS OFF. I haven't even had time to loot the office supply closet or use the office printer to print out pictures of Jeff Goldblum or prank call my CEO during office hours. Nosiree. I'm crankin' out some pretty solid work like it's my job or something.
Which is all well in good, and actually I prefer it, but I feel a little disappointed that I missed the Twitter riots. I always keep my pitchfork ready to go in the hall closet, and I can stuff a dummy to burn in effigy in seven minutes flat. HEY HEY HO HO (insert cause here) HAS GOT TO GO.
To vent my pent up aggression that could have been more productively aimed at Twitter or hackers or burnt grilled cheese sandwiches, I'll instead be waging war on the B's dirty socks that he leaves all over the apartment. And I'm not just talking dirty, I'm talking so gnarly and soaked with sweat and the stench of year-old camel cheese you'd need a hazmat suit to pick them up without feeling like you need to take a shower afterwards. Therefore, instead of asking him NOT to leave them all over the apartment and then picking them up when he does anyway, I'm just going to blow torch them until he a) stops leaving his socks all over the place b) runs out of socks or c) I burn the apartment down.
Either way, mission accomplished. Suck on THAT, Twitter.
Tweet
Which is all well in good, and actually I prefer it, but I feel a little disappointed that I missed the Twitter riots. I always keep my pitchfork ready to go in the hall closet, and I can stuff a dummy to burn in effigy in seven minutes flat. HEY HEY HO HO (insert cause here) HAS GOT TO GO.
To vent my pent up aggression that could have been more productively aimed at Twitter or hackers or burnt grilled cheese sandwiches, I'll instead be waging war on the B's dirty socks that he leaves all over the apartment. And I'm not just talking dirty, I'm talking so gnarly and soaked with sweat and the stench of year-old camel cheese you'd need a hazmat suit to pick them up without feeling like you need to take a shower afterwards. Therefore, instead of asking him NOT to leave them all over the apartment and then picking them up when he does anyway, I'm just going to blow torch them until he a) stops leaving his socks all over the place b) runs out of socks or c) I burn the apartment down.Either way, mission accomplished. Suck on THAT, Twitter.
7 comments:
what is it with men and leaving clothing all over the house? and it doesn't seem to bother them either...weird
If you figure out how to get men to pick up dirty socks, PLEASE SHARE.
I totally missed the whole Twitter thing, too. I have no attention span when it comes to that site.
And boys are gross. Sometimes I feel like my apt is a frat house :)
Have I mentioned lately how much I love you? Shit, Bridget. You crack me up.
i'm guilty of leaving my undies all over the apartment. my fiance will [lovingly] complain about picking up my laundry, but i'm all, "HELLO! they're panties! you should be psyched! they're a gift, really."
Is this supposed to be ironic because you update your twitter all day at work?
You could try the bloggess methed? educational post it notes.
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