Blogospherical Cipher

I think that maybe it is time to do a little freestyle blogging. I’ve just been thinking about certain situations that happened in the past few weeks that aren’t really connected, but they are funny, if not just because they are absurd. So, without further ado, it’s my turn to step up in this blogospherical cipher.

I had to wear a suite the other day. Why do they put two buttons on those things if you are only supposed to button one of them? But I digress. I walked by a window where I could see myself. I’m not one who cares about appearance, but I like wearing suits from time to time. People treat you like a grownup, like you matter, like you are important. I must say that I was mighty pimped out. All I needed was Gold Fish shoes, and I would have been Flyguy from I'm Gonna Git You Sucka. All I can say is, “My bitch better have my money.”

I went and got a cup of coffee one day. I noticed that the smallest size is “tall”. The smallest size is tall? What kind of small penis marketing is this? So I picked up a medium, which is “grande”, and I put the change, along with a little more change in that nice little tip jar. What is up with this? If I pay 2 fucking bucks for colored water with caffeine in it, then can’t the good folks at these coffee shops afford to pay their Baristas Well? When it comes to tipping, the worst is the bathroom attendants. It’s like, dude, I can pick up my own paper towel. It would be one thing if I had a choice, but the paper towels are right in front of you, and I have to let you pick it up and give it to me. I have no choice in this matter. That just pissed me off, because I’m not being furnished with a service, and I have no choice in the matter. If you wipe my ass, then maybe we can talk about tips.

I was over my friend’s house for lunch the other day. We were passing around the food, and when it was his turn, he was just chatting on and on about something or the other, but not getting any food. I couldn’t help but think that he is like those people who hog the joint. Every circle has at least one. They aren’t going crazy smoking it or anything, but they are just sitting there, Bogarting it, messing up the rotation.

I love it when girls with nice breasts carry a bag where the strap goes right in between their cleavage. I can’t think of anything profound to say about this though, which sucks, cause now I just feel like a pig.

I love riding down Kelly Drive, especially when the sun sets. Seeing the sun shining off the sewage ridden water with the crew teams in full swing is definitely a site to see. If it weren’t for all those people on the path, the unsupervised kids who ride their bikes like assholes on purpose, or who are way to far away from their parents, who let them wonder aimlessly, the friends who walk together rite in the middle of the path in such a way that you can’t get between them or around them, or my favorite, those groups that see you coming at full speed and don’t even make an effort to get the fuck out the way. That and the gnats is enough to make you want to scream. If you want a scary experience, then go at night time. See all the people who sleep in their cars along the river. Anticipate getting jumped at key moments along the path. I guess this a day in the life.