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Right. So I decide to go to Google to look up something on Princess A-Rod for the thrice-damned sequel, while grumbling to myself, "I hate Googling A-Rod. It makes me feel like such a schmuck."
My subconscious hears and obeys, and somehow I end up here instead. I am beyond amused.
In other news: No one told me that the Flaming Moron Convention was coming to Portland, or that they would all be shopping at my store today. Go away, Flaming Morons. Go back under your rock.
(That goes for my Jeter muse too. Please do not collar me at work and make me spool out receipt tape to write on. I know you're there. I am writing for you. Leave me alone.)
Oh, and when you start blathering at me about your new DJ business when I am trying to do paperwork, a brightly sarcastic, "That's truly fascinating!" does not mean that I am truly fascinated, nor is it your cue to keep right on a-going. You lose. Go away.
Okay, I'm gonna go Google A-Rod for real now. That sounds kind of dirty. Ew. *showers*
My subconscious hears and obeys, and somehow I end up here instead. I am beyond amused.
In other news: No one told me that the Flaming Moron Convention was coming to Portland, or that they would all be shopping at my store today. Go away, Flaming Morons. Go back under your rock.
(That goes for my Jeter muse too. Please do not collar me at work and make me spool out receipt tape to write on. I know you're there. I am writing for you. Leave me alone.)
Oh, and when you start blathering at me about your new DJ business when I am trying to do paperwork, a brightly sarcastic, "That's truly fascinating!" does not mean that I am truly fascinated, nor is it your cue to keep right on a-going. You lose. Go away.
Okay, I'm gonna go Google A-Rod for real now. That sounds kind of dirty. Ew. *showers*
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