Ha. I'm funny.

My roommate: [chiding me for driving to the gym, which is a mere three blocks away, based on the excuse that it was starting to rain] Months from now, you'll look at this decision and realize it was stupid.

Me: Months from now, I'll look at your face and realize it's still stupid.

Ooh! Wicked burn.

I Read About This In US Weekly, But It Didn't Sink In

Ryan, to Co-worker: That's a pretty high-tech water bottle you're drinking from.
Co-worker: Yeah. I have four.
Ryan: Four?
Co-worker: One for the drive to work. One for before lunch. One for the afternoon. One for the drive home.
Ryan: It looks expensive.
Co-worker: What do you use?
Ryan: I just keep refilling the same plastic bottle.
Co-worker: You're going to die. I'm surprised you're not dead already.

Coinage

Modest though I be, I'd like to take credit for a new expression, designed to end mild disagreements and disputes:

Let's just let bygones be fuck-yous.

It's all yours. Have at it.

Update: As suggested by mandy in comments, I've modified the expression to include the word "just". A most excellent suggestion, mandy.

Happy Birthday, Me!

As usual, LC and I celebrated "8 Days of [Ryan]," with all its strange math, and I got the following:
1 T-shirt
2 box's of Cheeze-Its
3 chocolate bars
4 (3 canvases + 1 jar of cherry jam) things
5 massages
6 wine glasses
7-5=2 decanters
8-7=1 Wii!

I encourage you all to come over and play Wii with me. We can drink wine, eat Cheeze-Its, paint, wear my T-shirt, give each other massages. Or you can watch as I spend all my friday nights from here to eternity playing Zelda.

Occasion

I have just been informed, at this late hour, that it was my cob-logger's birthday yesterday. I suck at remembering birthdays. I even signed up for some birthday-remember site, and look at what that got me. No follow-up from me. Sorry, homes.

In lieu of a phone call, let's just imagine that I just called. I care that much, dog. Happy day-after-your-birthday day, amigo.

(And, you know, you could blog around here a bit. Place is getting musty.)

Cutest War Ever

Not to make light of the Chaco War in which 100,000 people died, which is, of course, really bad. But this blurb struck me as oddly adorable:

Also, Paraguayans were able to send trained native guinea pigs carrying messages as a sort of messenger pigeon back and forth between lines of military operation, thus helping the war effort.

Gregor, Grete, and The Rocking Electric Piano

I want this song to follow me everywhere, always, for the rest of forever.

Misattributed

I discovered over the weekend that an old friend in Richmond has been spreading the rumor that this guy is really an act by yours truly. I find this information simultaneously hilarious, baffling, and worrisome. I hereby confirm that I am not now, nor have I ever been, drunker than satan.