I was going to let the previous (more thought provoking and touchy-feely) post marinate for awhile and get a comment or two, but I just have to get this shit off my chest. I have some good news and some bad news:
Good - I just assembled an 8'x10' shed for one of the ladies I work with. Her husband isn't quite sure which end of the screwdriver to hit the nail with. Of course, I agree with the promise of payment. Previously, I've gone to her place and assembled two armoirs for her. (no, it's not that kind of visit. Yes, she's pretty, but happily married) Long story short, I her husband gave me $100, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a bag of home grown roma tomatoes.
Bad - I got pulled over for turning at a "no right turn on red" intersection.
Good - I can now pay off the outstanding balance of my citation for crashing The Mirthmobile.
Bad - My court date is Oct. 11 for the improper turn.
Good - He didn't smell the bottle of beer on my breath.
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I dropped off my pictures from last night at Wal-Mart. Naturally, when I take photos of benign crap, they turn into photographic gold. When I make an effort to take a decent picture, it turns out nine kinds of fucked up... and so turned out most of my pictures of Stephanie Westfall and the Danny Voris Project.
This is me in the parking lot at Wal-Mart in the Mirthmobile with one exposure left on the roll, and no good idea what to do with it.
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This is The Danny Voris Project playing at Oktoberfest.
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Texas Gurl tagged me with the following email:
Well, my 23rd post is only two sentences, so I opted for the fifth line of my 24th post: I once read a bumper sticker, though, that said "All acts of love and kindness are my religion." But, variety being the spice of life, I will give you the second and final line of my 23rd post as well:
"Someone from your past has returned to steal your heart." I'm cool like that.
Good - I just assembled an 8'x10' shed for one of the ladies I work with. Her husband isn't quite sure which end of the screwdriver to hit the nail with. Of course, I agree with the promise of payment. Previously, I've gone to her place and assembled two armoirs for her. (no, it's not that kind of visit. Yes, she's pretty, but happily married) Long story short, I her husband gave me $100, a bottle of Jack Daniels, and a bag of home grown roma tomatoes.
Bad - I got pulled over for turning at a "no right turn on red" intersection.
Good - I can now pay off the outstanding balance of my citation for crashing The Mirthmobile.
Bad - My court date is Oct. 11 for the improper turn.
Good - He didn't smell the bottle of beer on my breath.
---
I dropped off my pictures from last night at Wal-Mart. Naturally, when I take photos of benign crap, they turn into photographic gold. When I make an effort to take a decent picture, it turns out nine kinds of fucked up... and so turned out most of my pictures of Stephanie Westfall and the Danny Voris Project.
This is me in the parking lot at Wal-Mart in the Mirthmobile with one exposure left on the roll, and no good idea what to do with it.
---
This is The Danny Voris Project playing at Oktoberfest.
---
Texas Gurl tagged me with the following email:
1. Go into your blog's archive.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
Well, my 23rd post is only two sentences, so I opted for the fifth line of my 24th post: I once read a bumper sticker, though, that said "All acts of love and kindness are my religion." But, variety being the spice of life, I will give you the second and final line of my 23rd post as well:
"Someone from your past has returned to steal your heart." I'm cool like that.
2 Comments:
Yes, that is one huge (and painful) honking zit on my upper lip.
I go away for 4 days and have so much to catch up on. First of all happy 1st birthday on your blog,mine is coming up around the middle of Oct. Secondly, you are a snuggle slut but there is nothing wrong with that and thirdly, good luck with your court day. I think I'm all caught up now.
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