'i mock you with my monkey pants'
Oh, Internet, how you charm me with your constant reminders of how I must be fat and depressed (not necessarily in that order) when I turn you on and find every web page I visit bordered with ads for Weight Watchers and anti-depressants (not necessarily in that order)! You make me happy, Internet. So, so happy. It's like having an electronic version of my mother inside my laptop, subtly shaking her head and wondering where it was she went wrong. Yeah, Internet!
Here's a suggestion - just turn down the volume and enjoy.
Or mock me. That's what I figure you're going to do anyway. You're just like the Internet!
You know what I just realized after watching that video clip (four times)(OK, really it was only two times)(I'm lying. It really was four)? My Tool Man has the exact same haircut as David Boreanaz. Now, if the Internet and I could just get him to lay off the birthday cake, and I surprised him by tossing a bucket of water on him when he came through the front door so his shirt perhaps flapped open and clung to his cake-deprived pectorals and abs, every day would be like a birthday around here, and by that, I don't mean the kind where the two of us sit around and do nothing but watch television all day
Speaking of birthdays, I suppose it's time for me to get off this thing and go give Tool Man his present. Or presents. We'll see how the night goes. I guess what you could say is we've got some slaying to do, and by that I mean slaying with one fewer letters.
Get it? Heh. Heh, heh, heh.
Oh, Internet, who says I'm depressed?
(apparently you really think I am because I just clicked back in Blogger to edit this post and right there on the edit page was a big old ad asking "Do you think you're depressed?" and you know what irritated me about it, Internet? No, it wasn't that I have never, ever had an advertisement on that page before. It was that the question was accompanied by a photo of a smiling, clearly non-depressed woman. If you're going to sell it, sell it hard and with the truth)
(we'll talk about that fat thing later this week if someone doesn't get this leftover birthday cake out of here, though)
Labels: Seth says "Hey."