Arachnid Java?

So I went to make coffee this morning and find a spider in the coffee basket. I am terrified of spiders...like paralyze my muscles and liquefies my innards, but I love coffee. So in order to function, I had to reach in and grab the spider out or have this:

Speaking of liquefying, I went down in the basement to change the laundry over, tried to squeak out a silent fart and shit in my thong...pardon, not in but on. How ironic.  At least I had another load to do.

In my absence I also got a funky, festering, itchy, seeping and oozing case of poison ivy.  Like I had to go to the Dr. and get a prescript. for oral steroids.  I got it looking for gold with the 'Dude'. Seriously, we are gold prospectors. Well not like our day jobs or anything but for a hobby. More on that later. So instead of finding riches, I had to pay out the ass for the Dr. visit, prescription, and the other various creams I had to buy.

The good note is the Audi-Doucher seems to be finally fixed, after the sixth time at the garage. The bad note is the garage owner lent us his Audi A8 so I could drive to work. The second day, the Audi-Douche Part Deux, runs out of gas in my mothertrucking parking lot!!!! Soooooooooooo, long story short, I didn't make it into work that day because O' Jerko, didn't answer his phone and was in another city so he couldn't bring me gas.

I would write more about what has went wrong since I've last posted, but it's depressing me and I think I may have shat my pants again.....

needing panties made out of t.p.,

t.WeeZy!

I'm baaaaaaaaaaack....for a few at least

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ZZZzzzzzzzz......

For reals....this is why I've been away. Going back to the 830-5 grind buhlows bloated whale wang. I feel like I shuffle out in the wee morn and shuffle back at almost dark. Ugh

Anyone have any tips to make it? Pleaze, I'm dying ya'll.

History Dumbed Down - Sir Isaac Newton

So there was this dude, this ancient dude from way back who was just chillaxin' in Woolsthorpe garden underneath a tree in the shade mindin' his own biz. Reading April's issue of 'Bushy Beavers circa 1666'. Suddenly...boink!

Black&White cuz they didn't have color photos back then, duh

After the apple bopped him on the head, Newton thought, 'Hmmm...some force inside the earth is pulling them down' but Ol' Sir Isaac wasn't the first person to have this thought, nor the second, or the third. However, he was the first to think the moon might fall too, if not for the centrifugal force of it's movement around Earth. Basically the moon would become a huge ass rock ball hurtling to kill mankind.

Thank the Milky Way for centrifugal force



Newton was smart, like big ass brain smart but so were a lot of other people. Have no fear, Sir Newton had shit on lock.

See above. He was the shiznit of smarts. Prolly not so good w/ the chicks though.

Then he went wild and started figuring out all kinds of motion laws. Well at least like 3 of them. Did a lot of speculating and invented Calculus (yes we can all hate Sir Douche for that). Bagged refracting telescopes and made instead reflecting ones. He proved that Earth was not a sphere but an oblate spheroid with flattened ends. He was a pussy though and didn't like to argue his position, reasoning that he was always right. Because of this, he never wanted to get his brain thoughts scribed.

Finally this other guy who you may have heard of, Edward Halley of thee 'Halley's Comet' persuaded him to write it down and after a year it was finally published in 1687. Sir Isaac Newton was knighted at the ripe old age of sixty-two and lived to be eight hundred and fifty years old. Actually he was only eighty-five. You didn't really believe that did you? Shame on you.

Looks like a stuck-up doucher to me and possibly just smelled a fart

In May 2010 a piece of the apple tree that inspired his thoughts was taken into orbit and quote '"I'm pretty sure that Sir Isaac would have loved to see this, assuming he wasn't space sick, as it would have proved his first law of motion to be correct." - Astronaut Peter Sellers.

In the end he died and became worm food. The End.

How do you like dem apples?

Not falling on my head, that's how
-t.WeeZy

 

Lake Lochness in my basement

Children of the Corn, anyone? Srsly, in my backyard.

So I realized as I was looking out my back window that where I live could pretty much be a kick-ass setting for a horror movie. I'm thinking Amish Zombies with Sickles or Mennonite Mafia with Machetes. Either way it'd be pretty damn frightening.

Yes, I'm bored. Yes, I need stimulation.  It's been raining for 24 hours gimme a break. I'm seriously lacking motivation for anything. Help!

Things I've done today:

Fed the kitty a bitchload of catnip

Had the coffee poops

Looked out the door a million times, hoping for the work clothes I ordered to be delivered. Most likely by horse and buggy

Dusted, vacuumed, unloaded/loaded the dishwasher and did the mirrors

Almost showered

Goofed around online (A lot)

Made a partial menu and grocery list for next week

Talked to the 'dude' a few times

Thought about exercising

Cut my bangs (hate 'em)

Worked on writing this post (failing)

Thought about exercising some more

Wet-Vac'ed the flooding basement a bajillion times

I finally got my clothes or at least some of them and I'm sure you can guess that none of the chinos fit. None. Not one fucking pair. I swear to christ on a cracker I have midget legs. They are an illusion, kind of like funhouse mirrors. They don't look short but god forbid I try to buy a regular pant...I'm sportin' bells. If I buy a short...almost high waters. It's a fine line people.

Don't be hatin' on my hair now

Anyways besides getting leg lengthening surgery looks like I'll be shipping those bitches back on my dime.  Hopefully they'll be returned to me before I start work. Otherwise I'll be wearing trash bags.  Why, you might ask? Because I've lost a lot of weight since my last gig. While I'm not complaining, it sucks when you still try and buy clothes online in your 'fat frame of mind.'

Job Lady called and left a message stating she wants me to start earlier than planned.  Good news: I'll get paid sooner. It'll get me out of the house, I'm tired of staring at farmland. I'll get to make 'real' life friends and have something to talk about with the 'dude' other than how many craps I took that day. Bad news: Clothes situation. I was kind of going to enjoy having a few weeks til I go back to the grind.

I guess I'll just suck it up, like the water in the basement and carry on.

Building an Arc

-t.WeeZy



How not to wake me up on Mondays

Pardon me for not writing more today but I was busy googling 'How to get rid of DNA.'

*innocent cough*

The post too boring to name but where I get a job

I'm going to blow off all the stuff I'm supposed to be doing and write this instead. The following post will be all over the place and long, but pay no mind it'll go somewhere, I hope.

First thing on my brain is that the Kashi post seems to be the most popular. Really people, Kashi? Either they are super curious about Kashi or avid haters of the butt-flavored paste marketed as healthy scrotemeal like me. Take your pick.

Also, am I the only one who, when a new person leaves a comment, has to immediately check their blog, read their posts, and then check who they follow, and read their posts, then it becomes a hurricane spiraling into the abyss? Then twenty some odd hours later, when my eyeballs are about to spontaneously combust I remember that I had something to blog about, but by then I'm too tired to even think about it? Curse you funny people! (srsly. I do love the comments though and it gives me more reading material, so thx.)

(A commercial for ChristianMingle.Com just came on and I'm pretty sure that God isn't telling you it's your time to sign up for a dating website. It's probably more like the Devil.)

The major thing I wanted to spout was remember this?  Well if not, go read real quick. I promise it's short AND it contains two pics. The full story:

Interview at 9:30. I show up at 9, have to pee like whoah. Go inside, no bathrooms. Frick! Sit and wait for lady to come and get me. Tickle forms in my throat. You know that tickle, the one that starts in the middle of your throat and works its way up? Yeah that. No water fountains either. So I try and clear my throat, no good. A little cough and then a louder cough. Attracting attention now. Hmmm, thinking. Aha. A stick of gum, genius! Pop it in and begin to chew.

't.Weezy?'

Shit.  I get up and start trying to stick the gum underneath my tongue. The sticky barely chewed gum I might add. I extend my hand and follow her to her office. Exchanging pleasantries ensues. Yada Yada. Read the duties (yes I said duties) and give her my id. 

'I'm not going to be the one interviewing you. I don't know if you've ever applied for a job like this before but you are going to go in front of a panel of 3 people who are going to ask you questions and write down everything you say. They won't be making eye contact with you, it can be intimidating.'

What I heard was: 'You are going to be judged by 3 people who are going to drill you and make you sound like an ass and mimic everything you say. They won't even be paying you any attention, it is extremely asshole clenching intimidating.' I smile wearily. I think okay, at least she warned me so when I come back in for the second interview I know what to expect.

'Let me go see if they're ready for you.'

What. Thee. Fuck. Now?! I still have the gum in my mouth!!! I go to reach for something in my purse to put it in. Fail.

She peeks her head in. 'They're ready.'

Oh joy. I can hardly contain my happiness. I stand up and follow her to my parole hearing interview panel room and see the ladies. Three older ladies. They seem friendly enough. They explain what they will be doing and that I have the questions in front of me, paper, and a pencil if I want to write stuff down. Write stuff down?! Like what? Is there long division? Measurements? I'm doomed. Righty-o.

The Inbetween: I'm not crossing my legs to be lady like, I'm doing it so I don't piss in my tights. Keeping the gum under my tongue while nervously talking takes talent.  Pits dripping rivers in my sweater dress.

The End: I totally shit bombed it. Like flaming napalm shit bomb. They told me it could take up to 4 weeks to hear back.

She called, offered me the job, I took it.

Editor Thought Bubble: I bet the other candidates, like Atom shit bombed it.  Thank the scarecrows for that.