Hi friends. It's been a
while. I'm not good at commitment; you should know that by now.
Let's just suppress our true feelings and act like nothing's happened.
That seems healthy.
To jump right in, there are a few
things I feel the need to cover from the past few months. Namely, how
much I hate the Geico pig. I get it, all company mascots have a shelf
life, but I feel like we're really going downhill with this one, and that's not
a pun about the zip-lining commercial. The cavemen were entertaining, and
it was a witty catchphrase scenario. The lizard was cute, and who doesn't
love a British accent? The pig though? This talking swine might be
the most obnoxious thing on television since Snooki. (Is she still
alive?) The pig is basically just a play on the American kid: fat, ugly,
smug, and annoying as hell. And he doesn't even talk about insurance in
the commercials either. What the shit Geico? And like I'm going to
take financial advice from a freaking farm animal anyway? Old MacDonald
never said shit about having any insurance reps on his farm as far as I
remember. Honestly, if that pig wanted to be useful he would voluntarily
turn himself in to be bacon, and even if he did, I'd probably just throw him
away.*
*No I wouldn't. I don't
waste bacon, I'm not a monster.
For those of you that don't know,
I spent early May and the better part of June traveling across Europe because
I'm better and more cultured than you. Also, because I have no concept of
money or the repercussions of crippling debt. Anyway, this trip went
about as smoothly as you would assume. To cover the big details: I
went completely and totally broke just before halfway through the trip, I was
nearly drugged at 3am at a train station in Italy in an attempt to steal my
luggage and female friends, and I totally missed my flight back to America.
Successful venture, I'd say. I won't go into the gory details
because I'm sure there's at least one person with a soul that reads this thing,
but it was an entertaining trip. And to clarify, I absolutely DID do all
the sightseeing stuff and tours and culturally necessary stuff, so I'd
appreciate if you wouldn't assume I'm just another trashy American. How
many concentration camps have YOU been to in the last three months? How
many Roman Colosseums? Buckingham Palaces? Yea. That's what I
thought.
So in January I moved to Phoenix
as I may have mentioned, and currently in July, I am regretting more than
anything I have ever done in my entire life. Don't get me wrong, I have a
great job, amazing friends, and a roof over my head. The problem is that
the job is basically a sweatshop, all my wonderful friends are dying of heat
exhaustion, and I'm pretty sure the roof started melting last week. IT'S
HOT AS F*&K, if you get my drift. I did not think this move through in
the least bit. Everything was fine when I got here in January, and was
even bearable all the way through May. Then I went across the pond.
When I came back it was like I had gotten on the wrong flight and
accidentally landed on the surface of the sun. The heat that we deal with
daily is the kind usually reserved for the third or fourth ring of hell.
Screw frying an egg in the shade, I'm pretty damn sure you could grill
shrimp kabobs, asparagus, and a 16oz steak. At 9am. And it doesn't
help that all the delusional locals that for some insane reason have decided to
stay here despite the sweltering heat terrorizing them at all times are
constantly reminding me that "they remember their first summer here."
No you don't. If you truly remembered your first summer here, you
wouldn't still live here you ignorant jerk.
That's it for the day. I've
got a lot more, but I've been told to shorten these things up. Apparently
either I'm only manageable in small doses, or you people have just as short of
an attention span as I do.
Fact of the Day: Romans
used to wear wreaths of celery to protect themselves from hangovers.
Shout out to Mitzi Lea.
