1000's of words

A wise man once said, "A picture is worth a thousand words." Kim reiterated this wise statement and requested pictures. As it were, I would rather just write 1000 words, I think, namely due to my timely ability to consistently forget my camera. So you get what I give you.

food tinman matches concentric rings kitchen bill clinton

After some time at the gym today, I returned home to realize I was quite tired, and would soon be hungry. You know when you're hungry but lazy, and all you want to do is sit there and eat, but ideally skipping all the active steps in the middle that comprise the preparing of your food? So I just sat there, doing nothing but watching basketball highlights online. Here's where things went south. First, I discovered that in my area, I will be unable to purchase NBA League Pass Broadband. It's broadband! My region shouldn't matter! I am willing to pay money for a service that is already set up, yet they don't want my money (maybe they found out I was going to be using Australian currency, which for the cost of league pass [$150 American] is roughly equal to placing a reasonable 2:1 odds bet on Mama Medallion, the champion kangaroo boxer, in her match this afternoon at the local TAB). NBA.com, you will incur my wrath. Just because I am not actually a basketball player does not mean I won't file a grievance with the players' union. Mark my words.
So no live streaming bball games, I lamented. At this point, eating eggs would make me relatively happy, but only so long as zero mis-steps crept into the actual procedure of formulating those eggs on a plate. Mis-step no. 1: I go downstairs, forgetting the new $4.50 frying pan I bought from IKEA. I scowl and trudge back upstairs to retrieve it. Mis-step no. 2: The drawer containing spatulas, etc, has a faulty handle, which comes loose in my hand as I try to pull the draw open, like shaking the wooden hand of a shark attack victim to watch in horror as it detaches from his foreharm, still clawing your palm. Now frustration is setting in. Three minutes of trying to re-fit satan's bastard of assorted knobs back into its screw-hole until I realize I can just pull the drawer open from its sides. Hopkins engineering. A defunct piece of hardware in the kitchen, get out! You mean the maintenance of this place is a little suspect? I'm as surprised as Bill Clinton must have been that chubby Monica bragged to her chubbier friend that she, a lowly intern (at least she wasn't a he who was a scribe) was fortunate enough to felate the first fallus. At this point I am annoyed with the shoddy cabinet, but I'm about to cook my eggs, which will put a smile on my otherwise steely countenance. Mis-step no. 3: I can't get the stove to light, neither lighters work, and the pilot light must have forgotten his wings, or be on auto-pilot, I don't know. Finally I find a box of matches whose use must be for this very occurance. Here comes the single dumbest thing I've seen since getting here. There are used matches in the matchbox. I'll let that settle in. People have been using matches, then instead of simply throwing them away, putting them back in the box. I would rather my floor be covered in spent matches than have to sort through this little box with my fat sausage fingers for a fresh match. They're one time use, people! Just throw it away. Christ. The Illogical Express is now entering a new county. Welcome to Moron-ville, population: My housemates (most are gone now for the holidays). Well I'm glad i was able to vent, which is good, because not much of any consequence happened today, other than the phenomenal salmon and eggs with freshly juiced pineapple I had for breakfast. I literally watched the old lady cut up chunks of pineapple from the exoskeleton frame of the tropical fruit, put it through the juicer, and voila, into my glass. No pulp, just pure frothy goodness. Shit I love juice. A continuation of the "food is fresher here" theme, which seems to recur quite often.

Sorry, this was all a very shitty blog post. My heart wasn't really in it, so my timely charisma couldn't really shine through. You vultures will get some better recounts of my travels later.