I just built a bookshelf, which better count as my exercise for the day. I don’t think a personal trainer could make me hurt any more than I do right now, and besides which, I’m fairly certain the types of injuries I’m currently sporting have been banned as motivational tools by the Geneva Conventions.
On the plus side, hey! New bookshelf! It wasn’t too difficult to put together, but the secondary person the instructions mentioned as a required tool was not included in the box so I did it all myself. It wasn’t the screwing that I really minded – it never is – but the hammering can suck it. I am really bad at hammering. Things that require hammering is why I tend to have men around.
There’s a really dirty remark to be made there, but I’m not your filthy monkey – use your own imagination and figure out the pounding joke on your own.
You know, I’ve been on the internet since the Dawn of Time. I understand spam – I don’t like it, but I understand it. Sure, sometimes I get annoyed with the sheer amount of spam I get and the way my filters sometime decide not to work, flooding my inbox with pleas from horny Russians wanting to show me heaven via webcam. With a resigned sigh and a heaving bosom I wade through mortgage offers, Nigerian princes, accusations of being unable to satisfy my woman with my tiny rod, and easy ways to lose those unsightly pounds that never ever feature decapitation as a viable option and delete/flag/swear as needed – but this time, they’ve gone too far: an email from Restore Our Future, saying that Mitt Romney needs my help and a reminder to vote for him tomorrow.
Just for fun, let’s count all the things that are wrong with this situation:
- I’m not American
- If I were American, I wouldn’t be Republican
- The only possible way I would ever consider helping Mitt Romney would be if he needed someone to explain the merkin or the etiquettes of pegging, or to share my personal theories on the lack of facials in gay porn
I am seriously offended that someone sold one of my rarely used email addresses to a fucking political group; one for a country I’m not even in. Assholes! I am vibrating with righteous ire and the weight of Hobbes purring on my arm!
All rage aside, I do feel sorry for the US. They’re basically being asked to choose between the lesser of three evils (and a running joke) – it’s like asking if they would prefer their town to be destroyed by an enraged Godzilla hellbent on protecting her young, a kittenish Cthulhu who only wants to play, or a krakken-sized El Chupacabra foaming at the mouth and holding the half-open seventh seal (I’ll let you decide which candidate is which). Unfortunately, I think it’s unlikely that Obama will be reelected for a second term .. which means their future is in the hands of either the guy who hates women, the one who only likes them when their legs are spread, the one who wears magic underwear, or Ron Paul.
Then again, we’re stuck with Harper.
Who’s up for moving to Micronesia?