(no subject)

I would really appreciate it if someone could tell me where that blue folder full of page proof that I just fucking had has run off to. Like preferably before the author shows up to pick it up.

(no subject)

These are horseapples. Or that's what we called 'em in Mississippi, anyway. Other folks call 'em hedgeapples or osage oranges. They grow from some kind of tree and they're weird as hell. They're fun to throw, but they're dangerous to pick up because they leak this milky crap that gets all over your hands.

I have no idea what made me think of horseapples yesterday, but for a few seconds it was a big deal. Fucking HORSEAPPLES!

(no subject)

Oh, I forgot to mention that Crate and Barrel makes plastic horseapples for those of you who'd like to decorate your house with them. For real.

OK, I'm done. I promise.

(no subject)

I'll bet you can't call up your mom and tell her, "Listen here, y'all better keep them goddamn dawgs outta my fuckin' yard, y'hear?!!" without being disowned. But I can. We're cool like that. She did recognize my voice today, unlike the time I called her up with a heartfelt pitch for a delicious cheese log and she very quickly, calmly, and coldly informed me that she was not interested in my cheese log. And hung up on me!