I had a dream last night that I took The Wife, El Niño, and my mom to Disney World (on a golf cart, no less- just go with it), but when we got there, we found out that Disney World had changed their admission procedures. Instead of spending 9 million dollars on admission tickets, you instead had to enter a waiting area that was the size of a large casino. But instead of slot machines, it was filled completely with amusement park and arcade games where you try to win as many tickets as you can- like skee ball and the basketball game and such where you ended up winning a bazillion tickets hoping to get that mini-TV and ended up only being able to trade it for 5 pieces of old and crusty bazooka joe. Anyway, Disney had it set up to where you had to pay your way into the park by collecting a certain number of tickets. They apparently did this to help slow down the traffic into the park and keep lines down, while at the same time providing a fun diversion for people trying to get into the park. Even in my dream, I'm thinking that this is fucking nuts. But I play the basketball game (at $5 a pop) anyway because I want my family to go to Disney World. I find that I am tall enough to just dunk each ball, which I start doing, so I'm friggin' racking up some easy tickets. The large security guards that work there didn't agree with my strategy, however, saying that I was cheating ("NOBODY cheats GODDAMN Fuckin' DISNEY, MO' FUCKA!") and trying to kick me out. That was bullshit, so I grabbed the family, bulled my way through the guards, traded all of my tickets for admission (and a chinese finger trap... and a Pluto whistle) and then golf-carted my way into the park. But when I got about halfway into the entrance, I had another guard tell me that strollers weren't allowed. This was apparently more severe to me than the bodyguards and threats of physical violence from before, so I sadly had to turn around and go home. ... Why can't I dream about normal shit, like that I was a citizen of that future city in "Demolition Man", and that I got to follow around Sylvester Stallone and ask him "What's your boggle, good sir?" all the time? 'Cause that'd be awesome. Long story short, I dream like a dickhead, and Disney are a bunch of jerks. On another note, in the past two weeks, I have bought more refrigerators that I would have ever thought I would buy over the course of my entire life. And I don't own a dolly, so EVERY ONE OF 'EM was a pain in the ass to get to their respective destination. I'd rather kiss my dad than have to move another refrigerator. Refrigerators are a bunch of jerks. I hate 'em all. 'Cept the one I got at my house. Her name is Nellybelle. She's awesome. Hi people!
Let it begin. I need a fierce amount of alcohol to get through the level of sheer moronic retardation that is the one day a week I have to be on the support desk. In other news Bewbs: Spoiler
If you do, let me know how the seashells work. Fuck yeah WDT, I forgot it was Friday. Can't wait for the weekend.
Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa. I didn't think anyone else knew about Van Damme Fridays! Chinese New Years eve on Sunday. Damn my superstitious mother, I really did not want to spend the weekend "creaning o'd ruck out of house, ah-raoh new ruck in".
I skipped that part and it took me a while to realize that you were talking about a dream. I don't think that disney could do anything that would surprise me.
Can we talk about that for a second? What the fuck is with Chuck Norris complaining about all the swearing and making Sly bring the movie down to a PG-13 rating? I guess killing and butchering guys is cool, but not swearing. Fucking sanctimonious dickhead.
My daughter (who turns 4 on Wednesday) scrounged up and old copy of The Owl and The Pussycat for me to read to her last night. I had never read it and it was short, so I was excited. Until I get about halfway through and had to read the following song the Owl sings to The Pussycat: O lovely Pussy, O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are! I need therapy for being subjected to that.
Nah, don't sweat it. Now the next time you're in bed with your woman, you've already got some dirty talk prepared.
BOOM, motherfuckers! I'd love to have a drink now. Seven hours of Lab Goodness stand between me and a Stars game/drinking my face off. I can't wait.
What the hell is the original of that clip from? I have the one where it's that guy and a shirtless ripped Asian guy flailing away on a drumset in the ring. big WTF there.
Finally the weekend. Grades come out today at 3:00 for my 1L class. After I receive my grade I plan on drinking hard. Either out of utter shock that I did better on my final exams than I expected or because I did exactly as I expected and will be drowning my sorrows. Tomorrow I'm going to a hockey game then to a friend's back to school party. The bitch of the weekend is the looming trial brief I have due in a week. Fuck.
Bloodsport. Turn in your man card for not knowing that. Van Damme Friday means I have to watch Time Cop, Double Impact, and... Breakin'?
Part of it looks like Bloodsport. My girlfriend is visiting me for the weekend and arrived last night (thankfully before the snow today). I've got seven hours of sales calls ahead of me, but days like today suck a lot less when my girlfriend wakes me up by sucking on me. That's the best alarm clock.