Tuesday, 12 March 2013

Do you have any Grey Poupon?

Snacks are the best. I like anything in small portions that I will then eat a meal's worth of but while playing pretend (I'm a moderate!) with yourself. I've eaten wheels of brie this way. I was in denial for a while (poet!) but sometimes you have to take the blinders off. I hope for the weight cheese has helped me to host I am, in fact, enjoying bones that are like titanium. I did sing that to myself David Guetta style. Only off key as myself and junk yard dogs shre the same musicality. I'm cool with it. Different gifts for different people.

Not to say I wouldn't love to crack off a tune like Queen Bey but alas, such is life.

I have been staring at pictures of the Maldvies. Stunning. I want to go. I WILL go. With as little environmental impact as possible. I drank a coffee mixed with whtie hot chocolate from a machine (I know) and I am JACKED! JACKED!, I tell you. Zing! says my brain. Which is shortly to be followed by splat. Thus starts the caffeine cycle. Which tells me I need water.

You know what is crazy behaviour? I read everyday tips and tricks for doing exercises (planking, I need to fall in love with that) and I might as well be reading up on brain surgery for all that it gets put into action. I should be Hulkamania if the reading translated into action. I need to put up pictures of myself in a bikini and then someone from the Olympic volleyball or rugby team and say anything they can do, you can do better. You can do anything better than them. Yes you can! Ditties. I love'em.
Or gifs of Tom Hardy blowing me kisses. Thanks Tom Hardy. You mancandy, you. I love mancandy.

I need to take a knife skills class. Partially I hope this opens up an opportunity for me to take down the terrorists Steven Seagal style but mostly I hope I remain a 10 digit-ed individual. I like my digits. I also need something sharper than Canadian Tire knives. No offense, C-Tire, you do good work. Thanks for the raspberry gingerale.

I wish I could take my cat everywhere, she's a charmer. (YOU'RE a charmer) and I like singing to her. Non-Beyoncé style. Moubebe would cast Bey shade, she's a mistrustful wench. The cat, not Beyoncé - although, that could have changed now that she and Hova have been hacked according to our friends at TMZ.com

You know when you discover you have sat in chocolate andhave been unwittingly walking around looking like you have a real bathroom maintenance problem. Poo stain! on my dress! In an office! Quel horreur! Now I am scraping frantically at it which is making it WORSE!! See Jerry Seinfeld for the Dry Cleaning joke I would insert here. He's not wrong.

I never got into Seinfeld - maybe I'll Netflix that shiz up. I did see his special 'I'm telling you for the last time," funny as hell. Also, his 'Comedians in Cars getting Coffee' - gold, Jerry, gold. I wish I could sit around - fly on the wall styles - and listen to comedians tell each other jokes. That'd be amazeballs.

I'm going to find a way to be paid for just being fun to hang out with. That's my skill, I make people happy. Sussing out to be done immediately.

a haiku:

I'm so dynamite
I love eating pork cracklin
while doing planking

xo

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