patrickmdunn:

Fuck, smoking does look cool.

I love drinkyourjuice.  She is able to articulate my innermost.

drinkyourjuice:

Ryan Dunn’s death has hit me weirdly hard, and I’m gonna try to unpack it.

Reasons Ryan Dunn being dead is sad:

1. He was attractive.
2. He seemed like the kindest, best-natured of the Jackass bros — the one who would come over and help you put together your new Ikea futon — and the planet cannot have enough of those.
3. He put a car up his butt and then pretended to not know how it got there.
4. He fucked around with his friends and made people laugh for a living, and not in a conventional way, either. There was no Jackass before there was Jackass. It wasn’t some suburban Pennsylvania career path that was available to these dudes. They made it. Just group of guys who had fun and were hilarious and creative together, and they were able to make lives for themselves doing it. There’s nothing more American than that, ya know? We’re all invested in that narrative, whether you liked the show or not. We all love a story about childhood friends with different but complimentary personalities growing up together and becoming adults who function just as much as they don’t function, but know each other in that quiet, bone marrow way you can only have with someone who’s been there for the whole thing. And these dudes were more than just each other’s friends, too, which is maybe what I’m getting at. They spoke to and informed the senses of humor of a whole generation of kids who might not have lived in a place where people thought the same shit was funny. Might not have listened to the same music or seen the appeal in stupid for stupid’s sake, and they made those kids feel connected to some bigger network of assholes. Some underground system of humans out there who were somehow the best and the fucking worst all at once. And facing the reality that that’s destructible — that even the most base-level joys we allow ourselves in this culture are completely fallible and subject to instantaneous pain and heartbreak — is kind of a jarring reality for a Monday morning. 

It knocked the wind out of me, is what I’m getting at. It’s weird that just knowing another person is no longer on the planet can do that.

This guy has a nice body.  haha

Oh my god.  Cats on the internet are one of my favorite things, probably because cats in real life cause my esophagus to swell and my breathing to cease.

No reason..

I woke up with a wedgie this morning…an uncommon circumstance, I realized upon reflection.  I’ve been told I snore, and drool, and on rare occasions even talk in my sleep, but I wonder if I was doing jumping jacks or something?  You’d think that this would make me wake up “on the wrong side of the bed”, so to speak, since most humans don’t find the wedgie sensation particularly pleasant, and some may be reminded of trying childhood events.  

I didn’t wake up on the wrong side of the bed though.  Looking on the bright side of things, I realized that I’ve been in stickier situations, and I harbor no traumatic memories of childhood wedgie experiences.  Only fond ones, in fact (“MAAA, what’s a melvin?!”).  It’s raining in LA, and I find that rare pitter-patter against my ancient, leaky, rented window panes to be extremely soothing.  Furthermore, it was 6:45AM, and it was time to get ready for work.  What could make me happier than that?  

As the day wears on, I can only continue to be thankful that I combatted the wedgie situation with a smile on my face.  It’s all downhill from here.

iceland

I’ve decided to treat this as my Diary of Alicia Keys.  Because even though I work in what you would think is the most creative environment possible, I have absolutely no creative outlet of my own.  I am stunted and frustrated and need to do something with my life.  It helps that no one is reading this.  Is my identity available?

Anyways, onward and upward or whatever.  No matter how hard I try to stay positive, and look on the bright side, and appreciate what I’ve got, driving to work in Los Angeles just eliminates the possibility of any sort of tranquility in my life.  I really do try to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt and all that shit, but there’s no denying that the cunts along my commute are stupid and inconsiderate people.  I know it’s not everyone, but it’s these that stand out.  Stoops, as my friend Ashley would call them.  

Moving right along, on Halloween night in a drunken fuzz, I lost my beloved iPhone to an Independent Taxi cab.  Taxi cab: redundant?  As a form of punishment to myself for being such a fuck, and because I had been considering the possibility anyway, I decided to switch to Sprint and purchased the Palm Pre.  Several people in my life had recommended it, including a former iPhone user, so while I did expect a bit of a downgrade, I thought I would be perfectly content.  Just like that time I decided to run from the cops, I made a bad decision.  

I think this phone is just a lemon, but Palm’s customer service SUUUUUCKS.  Each call takes at least 30 minutes, and I haven’t figured out what exactly it is, but I can’t help but suspect that Palm makes it a policy to hire those of a Forrest Gump-level IQ.  For example, the last time I called, the fellow on the other end paused for a solid 10 seconds before issuing any replies to me.  After allowing remote access to my laptop, erasing my phone’s data, and spending way too much time on the phone with these dips, I learned that even though all of my troubleshooting was in vain, they basically don’t give a fuck.  

My cro-magnon representative informed me of my options: send them my phone and be without for at least 7 days and they’ll try to fix it, or pay them $30 to send me a new one.  Trying to explain the lack of logic here to the automaton on the other end was useless, but I’ll state it here because I must be heard!!  Why should I pay them another $30 when I already purchased this piece of shit?  I already paid you, Palm.  If I buy something, it should work.   If it doesn’t, you should be embarrassed and make it right to keep your customer happy.  Send me a new phone, and try to make sure it works, please.

Furthermore, who in this day and age can go without a cell phone for a week?  Inconceivable.  Who are they kidding?  Anyways, cro-magnon told me that Sprint would lend me a phone while Palm was repairing my Pre, which I absolutely knew to be a lie.  He wanted me off the phone, and I was just as sick of his shit, so I told him I’d call Sprint to prove his ass wrong.  Which I promptly did.  But to my surprise, Cheryl certainly understood my frustrations and offered to sign me up for the insurance even though it was past my alloted 30 days (with Sprint you have 30 days to sign up for the useless insurance-after that you’re on your own).  She said she would order me a new Pre through the Sprint insurance and it would arrive Wednesday.  Today is Thursday, and I plan to go in on my lunch break.  I don’t have high hopes, but despite my morning commute, I will try to stay positive..

Ryan Reynolds=Sexiest Man Alive?  MeeeeeHhHhhhHHHhhhhhh