Here I sit, trying to plug in my last two photos for Project 365, when I realize I’m a day off. I’m ending up with 364. Is this right? Then this project is horribly misnamed. So off I go through the archives to see where I screwed up.
I was heading west on Linden at about 11:40, stopped completely to turn left onto Cynthia (yes, my blinker was on) waiting for freaking ever because of the steady stream of traffic coming from downtown (Liberty Bowl and U of M basketball revelry), when some car just fucking plows into me from behind and pushes me into oncoming traffic. Thankfully, the giant SUVs heading straight for my face swerved to miss me and I moved…
[for Friday, Dec. 28] Is there anything more obnoxious than modern toothbrush design? YES. Modern shaving-razor design. It’s too obnoxious to photograph. Women apparently shave with nymph-shaped muse-sticks and men shave with race cars. Bah. Project 365
[for Thursday, Dec. 27] For the record, this is NOT one of my cats. (My cats can’t kill anything except my patience. And silence, sweet silence.) This viciously cute little fluffball is a younger sibling to my cats, still residing with my parents. This is either Johnna, Paula, or Georgie (not sure, I can’t tell them apart, and besides, one of them has been renamed “Connie” because, according to my mother, she has a contemplative…
[for Wednesday, Dec. 26] Not to be confused with this kind of Worleybird, the Savannah eatery owned by Darryl “Have You Forgotten” Worley, country music sortastar. Phunny story about Darryl Worley*: Phil was at the Savannah theater with his brother, watching I Am Legend, when some douchebag’s phone rings. Douchebag: Hello? … [leans over to woman companion] We got any more of my CDs in the truck? Douchebag accomplice: Naw, I don’t thank so. Douchebag:…
Well, my hooptie is thismuchcloser to becoming junkyard scrap. Lately it’s been doing this thing where it will shudder violently if I’m idling in drive or reverse, and it will stutter and stammer and act like a prissy toddler that doesn’t want to do what I’m telling it if I’m driving and trying to accelerate the least little bit. The TRAC OFF and SERVICE ENGINE SOON lights have been blinking in a display of holiday…
My 13-year-old cousin Tyler: Aunt Fran could barely talk last night! She was slurring her words together and dancing around the Christmas tree! Mom: I was not! I was fully coherent. [pause] I was trashed. :::::::::::: Aunt Cindy: Keri bought this birdhouse that, y’all, I swear, the front door to it looks exactly like a vagina. Dad: So you know every time that bird comes home he feels like a pussy. :::::::::::: Mom: I have…
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