Pooping in Memphis
I think that'd be a good Facebook status message.
But only if it was (were?) true.
Which it's not, for me, at the moment, sadly.
Someday.
I think that'd be a good Facebook status message.
But only if it was (were?) true.
Which it's not, for me, at the moment, sadly.
Someday.
While I'm posting screenshots of other people's profanity...
Shouldn't that be Hurray, Hurray? For the rhyme?
Kik was probably more interested in message than well-worn poetry tricks.
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Word from my Facebook wall is that I am Mr. Blue Sky.
Not sure I've ever been called a character in a song before. Flattering for sure. I mean I am now one step closer to becoming a rockstar.
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Just learned that there exists an Arvydas Sabonis Facebook Fan Page.
This is important news to me, because possibly my favorite ever SportsCenter moment was watching Chris Berman narrate highlights of a Blazers game and reveal one of the greatest nicknames of all time.
A nickname similar to but a level above classics like:
Amani It's Not A Toomer
Scott Supercalifragilisticexpiala Brosius
Carlos Daylight Come And Delgado Go Home
A nickname for the ages...
He's Not My Vydas; He's Not Your Vydas; He's Arvydas Sabonis
I actually don't know if that was Berman or not. If it wasn't, he inspired it, so I'll give him credit anyway.
Now I decide whether to join the Arvydas Fan Club...
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I don't know anything about this new Michael Phelps scandal except...
(A) I saw a headline that read:
If Barack Obama Can Admit to Smoking Pot, Why Can't Michael Phelps?
And (B) I was invited to join a Facebook group called:
Michael Phelps smokes POT which makes him cool. Fuck the British Tabloids.
So I clearly have no real reason to comment, but, since blogging is blogging, I will:
If Michael Phelps has, at any time during his high stakes swimming career, won a big race while stoned, then I have a whole new level of respect for his swimming skillz.
Note: One sentence post? One sentence post. Not the most traditional (grammatically legal) capitalization or spacing scheme, but I think it works. Party.
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The Carrot Project has me too excited to sleep much at night, and I'm starting to feel that ominous scratchy in the back of my throat, so I decided I needed a nap.
As I was settling into the couch, I remembered a Facebook status message from a couple of weeks ago:
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It's a good day when your 16 year old cousin leaves this message on your Facebook wall:
what up my man give me your number i have sensitive information we must discuss
I sent him the number, and I am through the roof excited for the phone call.
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