This post is about human waste, and as such, there’s a page break for the squeamish. I also don’t want it smeared all over my front page. Awww! I did it anyway.

God, this post is awful, don’t read it.

(more…)

That’d be a good name for a band. But now for what I really wanted to write about.

Someone was talking about renting DVDs, and I misheard something most important. I heard it as BVD rental.

Gross!

With this eczema, I think I might know how The Incredible Hulk feels when he hulks out and grows in size – or at least his shirt. I want to say pants because it’s funnier, but his pants never seem to burst.

My eczema is mostly on the knuckles of my right hand, and when it flares up badly, I can feel my skin stretch tight over them. And by feel, I mean pain. I feel like if I grip a pen too tightly, my hand will explode right out of its skin.

A funnier take on this whole pain thing though, my hands can look somethin’ awful bad with splits and cuts, and a general redness on the affected area. It’s as if I could start some shit with some toughs and they’d take one look at my hands and back off. “No way man, you’re a bare-knuckle boxer. No pussy’s hands look like that, and I’m not risking getting my ass kicked over this. We out. Peace.”

This story highlights what a dork I am and the way I think tough guys talk. Also I called them toughs.

Late.

Turkish: Well, do you want to do it?
Mickey: That depends.
Turkish: On what?
Mickey: On you buying this caravan. Not the rouge one, the rose.
Turkish: It’s not the same caravan.
Mickey: It’s not the same fight.
Turkish: It’s twice the fucking size of the last one.
Mickey: Turkish, the fight is twice the size. And me ma still needs a caravan. I like to look after me ma. It’s a fair deal. Take it.

I’d never eaten at a Grandy’s before until Monday morning. I had dropped Ame off at work and taken the car to the shop for an oil change. I know how to do it myself, but it can be messy and the price is right to have someone else do it for me while I stay at home watching TV or playing video games… which is what I did, ha!

Anyway, before the short quarter-mile walk home, I stepped into the Grandy’s right there. I had always seen their advertising marquee with different specials for lunch and breakfast, so I figured I’d check it out.  Honestly, I was expecting more of a sit-down setting than what I was presented with. The front area was a lot like McDonald’s and a bit to the side was the breakfast buffet. I stood in line for 15 minutes and ordered that up with an orange juice.

The bacon was good, the sausage patty was okay I guess. I don’t think that’s a fault of Grandy’s though. I’ve never really, really enjoyed sausage patties ever. It must be just me, so I won’t fault them there. The scrambled eggs were runny though. Gross. And the orange juice was awful. I had mistakenly ordered a large. I mean, orange juice is not hard, and I really like orange juice!

I won’t be going back for breakfast stuffs, but I did notice they have a chicken fried steak meal platter, which, if you don’t know me, I love chicken fried steak. I’m sure you Texans know exactly what I’m talking about, and it’s really weird when you think about what makes a chicken fried steak good. Basically, you take a pressed steak of questionable quality, and then deep fry it like you would a piece of chicken from KFC. Make sure you deep fry it fairly poorly, but you still want the batter to stick to the meat. Serve with mashed potatoes and white gravy. Bonus points for Texas Toast (hobo garlic bread) and corn on the cob.

mmmm…

Gahh! No time for any real content. Two tests next week, the game design bug has bitten me hard, now I have work, and oh my god oh my god oh my god.

In semi-real news, celebreality on VH1 blows donkey balls. “Real Chance of Love?” Gross.

In REAL news, I’m an early voter. McCain? Obama? Nope! Libertarian party, suckas!

LATE