Come Hither.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Setting up Sunday.
Severe overcrowding, people. The severity so immense I've to grab a cuppa, only to go. Indeed, my heartfelt condolences to, of course, myself, and myself all over. Whoever the hell buys Starbucks home, only to sit in front of their laptop screen, and mule over the miseries of the world?
Well, if that's you, call me.
Rumor has it that consuming Starbucks on the go is different from really just sitting in their premises. They play with your senses, with the aromatic coffee essence in literal sense, bringing you into another dimension of ... I don't know, unworldly-ness?
My attempt to boycott Starbucks failed the very day I took an oath to turn my hate-filled back on it. Lack of self-control only saw me caving in to temptation. You just had to go because they were have some freak promos man! Underhand measures, totally uncalled for.
Anyway, I've been having these extreme cases of fantasy-meat attacks. And by meat, I don't mean those whole honey-grilled chicken (without the head) floating aimlessly inside my head. What I meant is, I could basically stay home all day and eat baby cheese sausages right out the oven. I love meat, like how bees love honey, like how geeks love maths. Is that how you use them?
Attempt to drive out for breakfast Saturday morning failed mid-way. My contacts got stuck in my socket. Had to pull over for Expert Dad to take the wheel. So disappointing of me, having to give in to patriarchy. I should have let my mom drive, but being a rational creature of existence, I contemplated it would take us hours to get to our destination, perhaps putting countless lives in danger and starvation, therefore, with great reluctance of course, I made mysacrificing decision to submit under the patriarchal system - of letting The Father drive.
Oh, look at the time. I guess I should head to bed. Sigh, why is my room always in a fire-hazard condition? Such torment.
Oh, the agony!
Good Morning, Sunshine.
Severe overcrowding, people. The severity so immense I've to grab a cuppa, only to go. Indeed, my heartfelt condolences to, of course, myself, and myself all over. Whoever the hell buys Starbucks home, only to sit in front of their laptop screen, and mule over the miseries of the world?
Well, if that's you, call me.
Rumor has it that consuming Starbucks on the go is different from really just sitting in their premises. They play with your senses, with the aromatic coffee essence in literal sense, bringing you into another dimension of ... I don't know, unworldly-ness?
My attempt to boycott Starbucks failed the very day I took an oath to turn my hate-filled back on it. Lack of self-control only saw me caving in to temptation. You just had to go because they were have some freak promos man! Underhand measures, totally uncalled for.
Anyway, I've been having these extreme cases of fantasy-meat attacks. And by meat, I don't mean those whole honey-grilled chicken (without the head) floating aimlessly inside my head. What I meant is, I could basically stay home all day and eat baby cheese sausages right out the oven. I love meat, like how bees love honey, like how geeks love maths. Is that how you use them?
Attempt to drive out for breakfast Saturday morning failed mid-way. My contacts got stuck in my socket. Had to pull over for Expert Dad to take the wheel. So disappointing of me, having to give in to patriarchy. I should have let my mom drive, but being a rational creature of existence, I contemplated it would take us hours to get to our destination, perhaps putting countless lives in danger and starvation, therefore, with great reluctance of course, I made my
Oh, look at the time. I guess I should head to bed. Sigh, why is my room always in a fire-hazard condition? Such torment.
Oh, the agony!
Good Morning, Sunshine.
posted by Lynette # 11:40:00 PM 
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