okay, so it’s half way through, but whatever … yes, I am this bored.
Will? Nominate!
What’s with the fear of Diane? Is she like, Queen Bitch?
The men are here to stay. Coming out of the women. Ugly pink bed.
Boogie? WTF kind of a name is “Boogie”?
Charissa is IMing me: HATE WILL. Okay. I HATE WILL. (Who is Will?)
what’s with the whispering? is this preschool? Guys: PUT ON SOME SHIRTS
Maybe it’s me, but Jaenelle looks like a deer in the headlights, and apparently, she’s causing mutiny. Apparently, if this were being related to WWII, she’s France, hoping everyone else will come to her rescue.
I completely do not for any possible reason understand the attraction of this show. What is will all the guys sans shirt running around? Why can’t Janelle take off her shirt? I bet she’s hot shirtless. The shirtless dude is totally deep (hah), apparently he’s won big brother before. I think he wants in Janelle’s pants. ME TOO!
This commercial is teaching me more about Zelnorm & GI tracts than I could possibly wish to know. Jesus.
“…what speed do you get?” “Yes!” Huh?
This house is fucking gaudy. It’s like, a bad dream from the 1970’s, “modernized.” They’ve been here for a month? How is it they haven’t all committed suicide? Y’know it’s bad if they’re happy about a diversion to go see The Ballad of Ricky Bobby, the only good thing about that film being the guy who played Sheriff Buck is in it. They’re clapping? OMG. Food restriction? What the hell kind of torture chamber is this?
I like George. I can sympathize with him.
GARY COLE! how’d i forget his name?
NASCAR? Sorry Rusty, but UHGH.
This live blogging just isn’t working, at least not for a show I can’t get into. I’ll give it a try with something I like.
The last fifteen minutes have taught me that I really, truly, have no fucking idea the appeal of reality television. on that note, I actually really enjoyed The Real World BOSTON, but that was more for, y’know, BOSTON.
From Ridgeway, facing Warren Road in Cockeysville.
I really wonder what the story is behind this string of messages — there’s another just before the Merryman’s Mill Bridge, about a mile to the east — an automobile love story? An attempt to alleviate the ragin’ of certain pizza guys?
I love you too, mysterious note writer!
Southbound on Old York Road.
After much hand-wrangling and worrying, I finally decided on a fixed schedule for the fall semester. Really, the big question was, “Monday or Wednesday off?” So, I’ll be working afternoons at the Indy Wednesday and Friday, and closing shifts at the Franchise Wednesday, Thursday, dinner rush Friday, and days Saturday and Sunday. All this in addition to twelve credits — believe it or not, a marked departure from my last semester at Towson, fall ‘03, where I worked three jobs, sixty hours a week, and fifteen credits.
Compared to that, this semester is going to feel like a vacation.
It’s a good start for a Lego Happy Hour …
… an incredible detailed vignette lacking only in lots of people that are the trademark of happy hours.
(MOC by Deborah Higdon).
My grandmother’s cousin, Donnie, lives in Manhattan, near Grand Central Station. I’ve only met him once, at Thanksgiving ‘04, but I remember him telling us all how parking spaces in the great New York City were routinely sold for outrageous sums — it wasn’t unheard of to spend a quarter of a million smackers to purchase your own space.
Thankfully, parking permits for the ‘06-’07 school year at Towson aren’t that expensive, but they are close to three times what I paid only a few years ago — $220! Ouch. They go on sale at 8am today, but I’m not working, and I’m sleeping in. Thank goodness for online sales.
(I hope the prices at the Union book store didn’t go up at quite such a steep hike!)
UPDATE:
I think it is very ridiculous that you are forced to buy a hang-tag if you don’t have a convertible, under threat of fines if a non-convertible displays a window stickers. I prefer window stickers. Double-you-tee-eff!
