Thursday, September 23, 2010

The Best Day Ever.

The next morning...

Monday, September 13, 2010

Don't Make Eye Contact.

You sit on the toilet, enjoying yourself.
You can feel your cat staring at you.

You know you shouldn't, but you make eye contact anyway.

She takes this as an invitation to come and sit on you.

And you know what's about to happen.
But there is nothing you can do to stop this.

"Hey, Mom!"

And she will always miss...

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

You Just Ruined My Whole Day.

Every guy that tries to hit on me always asks me what kind of music I like.

I'll be having a wonderful time when they approach.

I can see the thought quivering through their brain as they approach me.
I know the question is coming.

"Huhhh...I'm going to ask you about music because I have nothing going for me..."

I despise this question, because I honestly don't have a favorite, and I listen to such a wide variety of music.

So, they usually just tell me what kind of music they like.
And it's always horrible music.
It makes them so mad because I don't like their shitty music.

For example, I hate what "alternative rock" has become.
It's like 500 bands with the same members playing under different names.

I don't like death metal either.
I imagine that they are really tender hearted on the inside.

And it just makes them seem whiny.

Now, I will admit that I do like some rap music.
But only a very small variety of rap.

What I really hate, is when gangstas leave their running vehicles unattended with rap music blaring.
And the bass is so high that it sounds like their car is taking a really intense dump.

Now, one band that I really, really hate is Metallica.

They were wrong for complaining about not making money because of the whole Napster ordeal.
No one was buying their music in the first place.

See, I hate them so much I didn't even feel like actually drawing a picture of them.

Another band I do not like is The Grateful Dead.

I love psychedelic music. I love most music from that era.
But no one wants to listen to twenty minutes of hippies trippin' balls and poking around at their instruments.