ummmmmmm....oh yea.

what the fuck is with all this "if i were a (insert dumbassinine retro/pop-culture garbage thing here) i would be a (insert specific dumbassinine retro/pop-culture garbage thing here)" bullshit? every single page i've been on within the last couple weeks has this shit. i don't get it and i never will. not for all the hotpockets in the world.

i would like to give myself props for accidently inventing the word "dumbassinine" a couple seconds ago. so, citizens of the world, next time you think something is displaying qualities that are both dumb-ass and asinine, i encourage you to say "that is some straight up dumbassinine shit...now i know you think i'm totally cool and i rock all kinds of parcel for saying that word but i gotta give all present kudos to my cyber-mentor toast for it was he who on that fateful day, a day that will live in infamy, opened his mouth much like moses parted the red sea, and spewed forth unto this mortal realm the dialect of mount olympus so that we too can begin to feel but an ounce of the awesome godly power of his personage. hail toast, mothers and fuckers." or something to that effect.

all folie de grandeur aside, i'm not a big fan of my art appreciation class. it's taught by this woman named mrs. peacock who coincientally, has the facial structure, mannerisms, and not to mention intelligence of the bird from whom she recieves her namesake. i kid you not, holmes. we were reading through the book and doing vocabulary words and such and finding examples that related to the aformentioned vocabulary words and we turned to this page and she was like "see? this is an example of a good pastels work. who did this one? does it say?" and i was like "what in the fuck kinda double-thin trailor 372 miles beneath the surface of the earth did you live the last 40 years of your life huffing gold spray paint in?! that is muthafukkin vincent van gogh's starry night you fucking whack-ass slut. and it's not pastels it's fucking paint so what needs to happen right now, is you need to suck the shit out of my ass with a straw, wash it down with bug spray, eat a chunk of bleu cheese, move to alabama and die a slow painful agonizing humiliating cherry flavored death." and then out loud i said "it's that van gogh guy." and she said "oh yea." i mean, it is only a community college, but still...what in the name of april-showers-bringing-may-flowers? fuck a 6-pack of that.

rock the parcel.

uh huh.

word.