Okay, she's just a regular chihuahua, but I really want a monkey.
Okay, she's just a regular chihuahua, but I really want a monkey.
"Anyone who grew up in the suburbs knows that the mall parking lot is the perfect place to meet your dealer and pick up a dime bag (maybe we're revealing too much). But you never think that the weed may actually be coming from the mall.
Things are a bit different in Miami, though, now that cops have discovered a hydroponic marijuana nursery hidden in a Mall of the Americas' storeroom. By tapping into the building's power supply, growers were able to hook up enough grow lights to cultivate over 200 budding plants. Authorities say the crude wiring could have caused a fire, but they haven't made any arrests and aren't revealing how they discovered the doobage.
"That's bad. I don't want my kids around that. Bro, that's a first," said eloquent shopper Fonsy Martinez. We're with you, Fonz.
While police are presumably investigating mall employees and maintenance workers, we've got our eye on the owner of the food court Chick-fil-A. He clearly reaps the benefits when there's a mall-wide outbreak of the munchies."
Thank you, Miami. Thank you for continuing to make me smile...in shame.
I don't even really drink Coca-Cola without rum or Johnny Walker, but it still makes me happy. Just thinking about those polar bears, come on, when I was a kid I wanted to move the arctic (my mom said no). Although my sister is always careful to remind me that "they originally made it with cocaine, that's why it's called Coke." I know, I know...they definitely should have stuck with the first recipe. At any rate, go design your own bottle at http://www.coca-cola.com/.
Amazing what a flat iron and orthodontics can do. Chelsea Clinton, I know I'm a little late, but congratulations on making it through puberty, becoming quasi-hot, and getting some hot European ass. I commend you, as well as Bill Clinton's genepool.
Last but not least, although the thought of actually consuming these (without being on drugs) makes me physically ill, I can't help but appreciate the idea.
The Krispy Kreme Bacon Cheeseburger
Served exclusively at the Google NYC cafeteria.
Burger King's The Burger
Three-quarters of what comes out of my mouth is sarcasm, and purely in fun. Write that down. I try not to make time to be angry about trivialities. Ignorance is not synonymous with stupidity (or hostility), more often it refers to being uninformed, uneducated, or unaware. Frankly, I don't see a rhyme or reason for wasting the energy of a negative emotional response on someone who just doesn't know what they're talking about. If you want to fight ignorance, write an essay, teach a class, recommend a helpful textbook, but try stepping down off the high horse for a second and smelling the freaking roses. I don't need an introduction to some facet of anyone's inner angst on a continuous basis.
Fighting should be completely reserved for people with whom you will have just as much passion finding a resolution.
That being said, there are a few things that I refuse to talk about with people whom I know have or may have differing opinions. Politics. Religion. Race. These are hot button issues and the fact is that people do not simply discuss these issues, they debate them. They debate, they assert, they argue, and eventually someone gets offended and/or says something unnecessary. The last thing I want is love lost on what in the greater scheme of things, doesn't really matter. Make love not war, people. Please, please don't make me bring that slogan back. I have enough trouble not being a complete idiot, thanks.
The next time I sense an argument being intiated, I will stand up, clear my throat, and smile. I'm sure at this juncture, my companions will begin wondering why I'm standing, at which point I will say:
"Ahh, forget about it, let's go get some ice cream!"
You see how that works? Ice cream is the ultimate trump card. Besides, being angry gives you wrinkles, frowning tires out your face, and shouting strains your vocal cords. Not to mention you might get slapped. I choose agree to disagree, let's shake hands and pat eachother on the butt. Nice call, friend. Nice call.
Everyone loves a happy ending, and I love Javachip. So remember, If I tease you, yell at you, point at you and laugh... it's only love...just call me a bitch and eat your ice cream.
PhotoSuite is awesome. I'm sure it's originally intended for cropping, eliminating red-eye, that sort of thing. You know, normal editing. I, however, have chosen to spend hours doing stupid things like this:
I know what you're thinking. And yes, if you don't have PhotoSuite already, you should get it now. For no other reason than to send your friends and family ridiculous pictures and/or waste time amusing yourself (again, in a non-sexual way).
On a side note, when I googled insomnia, I got this:
Thank you world wide web. When I typed "insomnia", I most surely meant "interracial cookie."
Giving up alcohol is always a good thing. Especially when we're talking about health concerns (i.e. my poor, spiteful liver), maintaining control of inhibitions, and preventing inebriated hazards including but not limited to: destitution, imprisonment, unexplained injuries, IHOP, waking up in strange places, slurring, Taco Bell, accidental fires, beverage spills, unintentional violence, bad karaoke, betting on parlor games, stealing street signs, McDonald's, breaking things, losing personal belongings, getting ejected from nightclubs, making ridiculous toasts, getting lost in parking lots, being excessively obnoxious, Burger King, confessing secrets that have no need to be confessed, Denny's, dancing to the music in your head, yelling for no apparent reason, crying over spilt milk, cooking terrible eggs (or other 5am food), hugging strangers, vomiting in public places, falling, overall loss of dignity, and generally making an ass out of oneself.
Not to mention hangovers. And sleeping through morning alarms.
However, after approximately 1:00am on any given night, there is absolutely no reason for a sober person to be awake. None. But I am. Always. Thank you insomnia, thank you so much for shunning the evils of liquor and becoming a part of my life. Because of you I am able to partake in late-night television, be home early on Saturday nights, research useless information on Wikipedia, and aspire to one day have bloodshot eyes and pretty purple bags beneath them. I can't wait, I'm almost peeing with anticipation.
But until then, I will continue to spread my useless knowledge and opinions to the masses.
Dipsomania is a term which describes an uncontrollable craving for alcohol. The term breaks down as "compulsive thirst" but when used, is primarily related to the excessive consumption of alcohol. As a result, a Dipsomaniac (commonly called an alcoholic, but that's such a harsh word) is a person with the constant physical and psychological urge for ethyl alcohol, especially liquor.
By the way, ethyl alcohol, (also ethanol, grain alcohol, or drinking alcohol), is a volatile, flammable, colorless liquid. It is a psychoactive drug consumed since ancient times. After the cavemen discovered fire, they found alcohol (and we wonder why the Flintstones seemed so dumb). Interestingly enough, ethyl alcohol is also found in: thermometers, by-products of petroleum refining, solvents, scents, flavorings, colorings, medicines, fuel for heat and light, and also fuel for internal combustion engines (so that's why whiskey burns my throat). I always knew my stomach was a combustion engine! The good news is that if you're ever broke and out of booze, you can just crack open a thermometer. I'd recommend it on the rocks.
Now that's how to think like a true Dipsomaniac.
Luckily, most Dipsomanics tend to be very amiable, fun, and outgoing social butterflies; they just happen to fall off the wagon every so often, blackout, and make fools of themselves. But I've found that using big words can often get you out of sticky situations. So if you tell your peers that you are a Dipsomaniac, (after scratching their heads in confusion) they won't think you have a problem, they'll just think that you're really smart. They might even think that you're a snob, that's how intelligent you'll sound. You will then be free to sip your martini once more, without the hassle or distraction. Just don't say it when you're actually drunk, because then you'll just sound retarded.
Bong Spirit Vodka
(Real) Scorpion Vodka
Oh the memories...all the Dipso's out there, forget your homies, drink one for me!
If you're looking for the next diet craze...