first, i have a business proposal, by which i mean, not a business proposal but a rare opportunity to acquire a limited edition chicago maroon “terrorists win!” t-shirt, for obvious reasons. i;ll post a picture of the “terrorists win” fake maroon when i get home but for now, i offer you a ground-floor opportunity for the cost of 1 white t-shirt (which could be as little as $.99) and 1 iron on-transfer rounded up to the nearest dollar (i’m not running a charity here assholes). express your interest using the comments function. if you know what the terrorists win fake maroon is, you probably want a shirt, right. also, speaking fo the proud chicago maroon tradition, everybudy peep on the links for margarets webpage.
don’t nap while watching blue velvet.
i had another dream about the seattle mariners on monday night, wherein the red sox were about to beat the mariners in the ALCS and david ortiz was batting in the 9th inning but then al michaels/seymour hersh disclosed some kind of abu ghraib-ish information regarding the red sox which caused the entire country to turn against them, which i somehow knew even though the game was still going on. so then ortiz got a hit and the red sox won and everyone in boston was excited. also complicating things was that the mariners were all guys who looked like john olerud and one (1) ichiro who may have been playing out of position.
in other news, i have discovered that the secret to managing laundry is to do small loads often instead of very large loads infrequently.
i have also discovered that “wolfman jack” by todd rundgren is the best fucking song ever recorded.
the other day i saw a guy busking dressed in a kilt. because he was playing a bagpipe. i gave him a dollar because that was all the money i had.
the room in the basement of the art institute that’s just a bunch of tiny rooms inside the wall of the larger room: so, this is just pieces of fancy dollhouses?
salonica: i cannot rememebr why i gave you so much of my life. you are a weird dump.
olives: the new grapes.