I’ve reached a strange and somewhat disturbing point in my life.
Yesterday, I knowingly went to a gas station whose gas was priced higher than the competitor across the road. Why? Because their pumps were closer to the door and it was something like 6 degrees out. That’s why. I made a mental decision that the extra seven cents a gallon was worth not having to walk an extra forty feet to go inside and pay, since I had forgotten my credit card.
Apparently, laziness is worth $2 in gas to me now.
I have this horrible feeling that when civilization collapses and aliens try to figure out what happened, they’ll use things like that to support their arguments.
Dear Sarah Jessica Parker
You might think that I am still having residual bitterness over the fact that you married my boyfriend Ferris Bueller, but I still must tell you that I think you look like a praying mantis. Seriously. Eat a cheeseburger or something. You’re scaring me.
Yours truly,
Weetabix
Dear Sugar Ray,
I will not spread my love on fly. I will not put my arms around you. And I think you have an unhealthy relationship with your mother.
Yours truly,
Weetabix
Dear Weekend,
I want to get naked with you right now. I mean it. I want you so bad. I want to lie in bed with you, in my adorable pink flowered boxer shorts and ignore all of the stuff I need to do around the house. I want to paint my toenails with you. I never want to let you go.
MMMmmm’ Damn.
Weetabix
